A Girl Her Hubs and a Suitcase

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On Friday February 9, 2024 at 815 pm, for one brief moment evil entered all of our world dimmed by nothing short of satanic darkness. Our sweet Audrey left this mortal earth. Taken down by forces so hellish he cowardly left no room to be fought.

But, despite her tragic ending, I would like to focus on the light and goodness that she infused into our lives. In the almost 2 years we worked together, I grew to love this lady. Short, petite but a spitfire of energy she welcomed me with open arms. Foolishly, with cocky pride I deferred her training- opting to stay close and ask questions. And for the next 22 months that is indeed what I did.

Even if I knew the answer, she was a safe space, a mental trampoline to bounce my ideas off of. Sometimes these hare-brained ideas were entertained. But, more often I was redirected to a better idea, a fresh perspective sometimes born from ancient thinking. Her trusty Rolodex unearthing less traditional road less traveled solutions. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it was a defunct medical supply vendor now turned Chinese buffet. But it was worth dusting off that antique data base, if nothing else than to see wonderment and confusion on the Gen Z office counterparts-a seemingly Rolodexless existence.

Audrey knew everyone. There was not a resource she was not familiar with. Her brain worked in a mysterious fashion. Connecting the dots like a pro, following that bouncing ball of discharge needs, always ending in a slam dunk.

There was never a morning that she did not enter the office, without that raspy singsong inquiring salutation. Not an evening ended without a goodbye, safe travels, happy weekend. Never.

She remembered every detail, family member, animal or irrelevant aspect. It was a freaky rain man kind of talent that I envied as my aging mind struggled trying to fill in the gaping Swiss cheese holes of grey matter.

She had history with everyone. A backstory, a first meeting, an entertaining chapter that predated most of us. The common theme was each individual had their own unique importance to her. No enemies existed, no fallouts, no strained words and always positive accolades. There were times, my pessimistic self- born and bred Jersey style and the excuse for all my faults- would go on a rant, not proud of this- but it happened. She listened and then always offered a positive perspective.

In a world where most responses start with a sorrowful “oh Brooke, sigh…” this never occurred. She shared her optimistic offering ensuring that I felt heard and supported.

We definitely had different approaches in our practice, many times arriving at the same place. Mine was not wrong, nor was hers. But, we did both respect each other, our processes and methods.

She loved meetings. One of our last conversations we had was her saying how much she loved and looked forward to a Wednesday get together. It provided an opportunity for us to sit there and be with the whole team. Deep down, I had to agree- she was right. But, how foreign and odd is that notion.

Oh, how the Doctors loved her. she garnered me unearned street cred just by sharing a unit and office space.

We had fun, we laughed, she put up with my antics, my foul mouth ( working on this) my Jersey drawl, my ridiculous stories and my incessant questions. I got shushed on a daily basis.

Oh and we had parties! The best. Themed and coordinated. Always on board she was, whipping out her yummies and always the reliable side kick.

I never saw her outside the walls of the hospital. Our friendship and love was born in the hallowed sterile halls curated by problem solving and creative miracle making.

And now, my time with my friend, coworker, sister and teacher has ended. Her desk a shrine of aging flowers, a colorful mirage of photos of a life loved now gone.

I can torture my mind ruminating the anguished terrorizing final moments. Believe me it haunts me, sliding into my unsettled foggy dreams. But, I will choose instead to think of the gifts she unknowingly bestowed to me.

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

Do what you can when you can.

Hug and love on your patients.

Go the extra mile.

So many little lives and souls impacted and benefited by her long hours, her unhurried pace, her loving touch , her tender heart.

For a long time after my hiring, I questioned my place within the organization-with a one toe in, one toe out philosophy. I was operating in a glass half full mentality and had a bad case of “I don’t belong- itis.”

But I now understand why I am where I am. In the last few days of Audrey’s life ending the team came together in a way that only true family does. A sense of genuine sisterhood grew in the depths of despair. In her very notable and painful absence she left with me a curious amount of tranquility, a clear understanding of my place within this team and a gratitude that may have remained buried under my unsubstantiated resentments.

I miss her knowledge, strength, unwavering and unrelenting hope and laugh. Her humble nonchalance and unknowing humility towards her brilliance only made her more lovable.

And so now it is all on me… where I chose to go with this gaping loss in my life. I can see- saw in the hellish limbo of misery and madness or… just maybe I can live every day, every moment, every second to the fullest- trying to never allow the cunning destruction of evil to darken my light.

I love you Audrey. Thank you for your grace, your humor, showing us your momma bear love of your girls, your adoration of your precious dogs, your unwavering dedication to your patients, your loyalty and deepest respect to the Doctors and team- and just being authentically and unapologetically magnificent and marvelous you.

“When I die, I shall soar with angels, and when I die to the angels, what I shall become you cannot imagine”. Rumi

Day 1 Glasgow

Welcome to the Scottish edition of A Girl, Her Hubs, and a Suitcase. We are finally returning to the world of international travel sadly abandoned since the 2020 plague when we all but abolished global travels. During that break we instead transitioned our interest on domestic and local destinations satisfying our insatiable travel fix. After a 3-year hiatus we are making our triumphant debut starting with Glasgow, Scotland and beyond.

It has been a year of frustrating health afflictions, demanding my full attention and nearly jeopardizing future excursions. However, like a true Scottish tale-the underdog fought hard in true Braveheart spirit fortunately for me-resulting in a much happier conclusion than the ill-fated Mel Gibson.

After a 2-hour delay in London due to an ailing pilot a patient driver from saltireprivatehire.co.uk was waiting for us ready to transport our drained, tired bones to 15 Glasgow-our respite for the next 3 days. The lively banter was welcoming and helpful providing a dinner suggestion that we would later utilize.

We arrived at 15 Glasgow, a 3 story 5 room B&B-a picturesque grand Georgian, 19^th century home on a charming residential street in the trendy West End steps from Kelvingrove Park.

We were promptly greeted by Lorrain, the owner. She runs a tight ship with an organized system structured in efficiency and precision. Within seconds of our arrival, we were requisitioned politely to remove our shoes and supplied with slippers. Breakfast options and times determined; a map appeared instantaneously pointing out spots and landmarks, the information seeping quickly from our memory. We were ushered to our room, up the steps, protruding pixie size Popeye muscles emerged from our host hoisting my bloated baggage effortless to the second landing. We passed a stained-glass oversized window as the fading minutes of sunlight cascaded in creating a jewel of sunbeam sensation.

She escorted us to the Thistle room. Of note, the *Thistle is the symbol of Scotland and carries a great deal of pride and history with it, see below for details. Now back to the tour….

The room was exquisite accommodations, clean, palatial with elegant simplicity. Fatigued from 24 hours of restless travel, we gazed dreamily at the luxurious bed, yearning for deep sedation as Lorrain recited the house rules. We were politely advised to remain awake. The nap would surely set us on a course of destruction, rendering it impossible to recover from. Surprised by her authoritative delivery and insistence, exhaustion vanished, replaced by an overwhelming need to please and an internal understanding that she was indeed spot on in this theory.  

The sun dappled in through the floor to ceiling windows while Hubs folded like a fragile origami on the bed, eyes fluttered like a stirring butterfly, the beginnings of a serene siesta. My Jersey nasal staccato disrupted his sleeping attempts every couple minutes secretly wanting to join him in snooze-town. But, with Lorrain’s friendly warning echoing in a circuitous cerebral loop on repeat, I was able to push through the relenting draw of some well-earned Zzzzz’s. Propelling myself to the hot shower, airplane funk expunged and exchanged with a rejuvenating and revitalizing second wind.

In the dark and chilly night, we ventured out getting to know the area. With several colleges all close by, the overall feel was an academic hip and young element. Music streamed out of nightclubs; snippets of conversations drowned out by acoustic riffs as the pungent savory aromas comingled creating an enticing fragrant tease.   

The main street we would end up spending most of our time would be Sauchiehall Street. Getting to know our hood, we hopped from store to store looking at mindless baubles while in search of food. We eventually made it to the Indian establishment Akbars that hours earlier our driver had recommended. Upon entry, the spicy bouquet of curry and garlic tickled our noses and awoke our dormant tummies. The accompanying tables held large Indian families in a celebratory atmosphere. The mood was festive, and family centered. Our waiter Hamayum provided us with 5-star service, anticipating our every need and anxious to make our meal memorable-which it was.

We ordered typical Indian dishes, adjusted to our specific preferences. Saucy and exotic served with Naan bread. Now, the Naan was like nothing I have ever experienced. Presentation alone was pretty distinctive, paraded to the table on a sphere of some sort, akin to a medieval weapon wielding a 2 feet x 2 feet Naan bread. The oversized baked doughy delight hung from the apparatus like a fish from a rod. The garlicy goodness full of pockets of airy deliciousness, resembling a fire baked pizza crust more than traditional Naan. Sadly, we only made it through a quarter of it. We attempted to bring it back to the B&B but knew that a lingering day-old garlic stench would very likely and within good reason get us evicted. We took the short walk back to 15 Glasgow with over 16,000 steps tabulated for the day ending the night. Thanks to Lorrain’s earlier sleep doctrine -slumber came easy.

*Legend has it sleeping Scots warriors on the verge of ambush by an invading Norse army were saved when they stepped on a thistle. Their anguished cries roused the warriors awake and it believed the thistle became their national symbol.

Day 2 Glasgow   

Waking up on our first official day, I was filled with a peppy surplus of spirited hope, curiosity, and boundless excitement on what this day would bring. Sleep was celestial heaven wrapped in luxury linens, Indian food dreams. A vegan Scottish breakfast was waiting for me as well, door to door service, what more could a gal wish for? The Hubs and I sat in the upholstered throne-like seats, gazing out the window as the radiant morning sun’s aura warmed us up. The vegan breakfast extravaganza was perfection on a plate. Hot, fresh, and savory vegetables, brown crusty, salty bread delivered on a tray made special for me. This was indulgence at its finest and I was ok with this.

We had arranged for a walking tour provided by Guru Walk. We met Ian our tour guide/part time actor -a rather gregarious chap-in the George Square (named after mad King George-III) along with roughly 10 other exuberant tourists. We have used this company before in other cities and find it a very efficient use of time and resources in getting to know the city. It comprised of 2 jam packed hours of Scotland’s complicated history, scandalous facts, and helpful recommendations.  We formed a semi-circle around Ian as he spoke in rapid-fire speed, pointing to all four corners of the square, reciting titillating facts, rattling off in a dizzying intensity- much of which remained buried in the delicate tentacles of my still jet lagged brain.

We were granted special access into the City Chambers. The building was inaugurated for Queen Victoria in 1888. We stood in the ornate entryway, a refuge from the raw cold outside. Ian went on to outline the city’s coat of arms that include a bird, tree, bell, and fish described in this Glasgow famous poem:

Here’s the Bird that never flew. Here’s the Tree that never grew.

Here’s the Tree that never grew. Here’s the Bell that never rang.

Here’s the Fish that never swam.

We looped around the city, my plump stumps manically managing to keep up with the group. We found ourselves in front of the iconic statue of the Duke of Wellington and his victorious horse Copenhagen who rode and won the Battle of Waterloo defeating Napoleon. The celebrated sculpture erected in 1844 from Italian artist Carlo Marochetti, did not always include a goofy traffic cone. Legend has it, back in the 1980’s revelers placed the cone after a night of drinking. It then became a common occurrence, until eventually it became a permanent fixture. The traffic cone symbolizes the playful spirit of Glasgow. The monument is displayed proudly outside the Gallery of Modern Art (GOMA).

The tour ended precisely at the 2-hour mark, debarking us ironically directly in front of Guitar Guitar. Hubs-lover of guitars inconspicuously slipped in, checked out the merchandise but due to our dismally dreadful dollar exchange, we moved on. Needing a refuel we went to a quaint little coffee shop Rose Grants Deli Café located in Merchant City-Hubs munched on a sweet pastry while I gobbled down a tasty vegan BLT.

Revived we made our way to Glasgow Cathedral. The sun we had been blessed with all day vanished with a quick intense unleashing of rain. Seeking shelter, we ducked in the church finding salvage where so many had pursued salvation. The cathedral boasts being the largest and oldest place of worship in all of Scotland.

My eyes ricocheted from the magnificent soaring arches to the stained glass and stone columns. Hushed whispers echoed throughout the open chambers. Tour groups marched in and out, a promenade of united nations, checking the landmark off the list.  

On the same grounds the sacred cemetery Necropolis meaning “city of the dead” holds over 50,000 burials. It is perched up high with sweeping views of Glasgow. As we reached the top, the rain stopped, and the sun reemerged.

The occasional purring hum of wind was all that could be heard. We respectfully made our way through the hallowed tombstones, somber feelings of futility and mortality lingered as we made our way back to Glasgow 15.

This evening we were to go a concert performed by the SCO (Scottish Chamber Orchestra) Bach’s B Minor Mass. These tickets were purchased back home weeks before. Our whole day centered around this event. We were battling jet lag and fatigue and as it grew closer, we contemplated attending. But we rallied-got dressed in our finest, called an Uber and presented the address on the tickets to the driver.

What ensued from this moment on was frustrating chaos. Piecing it back together-post trip-we concluded the Uber driver dropped us off at the wrong venue ($15). No one could appropriately redirect us. We ultimately missed the concert ($85). Taking a pivot in our plans, we went looking for dinner options. It was Friday night and we quickly learned not to underestimate the importance of a reservation. In the USA, restaurants will give you a pager, an outrageous wait time, shove you towards the bar, resurrect a makeshift table by the toilet, anything to accommodate. Here, no reservation-no dinner. No negotiation, no wagering, bargaining, or even bribing. We went from place to place, growing more annoyed with each decline.

Then the trifecta of terror arrived- hunger, exhaustion, and whining. Hubs- the easy going one of the twosome open to anything, unphased, energetic and always seeking an adventure, he tried desperately to tame the beast (me) but once that Jersey girl is unleashed- she will not get back in the bottle.

Then…. we got lost. We circled the same blocks several times, looping, backing up, retracing our steps, over and over growing further away from 15 Glasgow. Hubs suggested an Uber, pointed to restaurant options, reconciled to eat PB & J if needed. We eventually got our bearings (no help from me- a geographical nincompoop). With only a few remaining opening minutes we made it to Nonviet, a Vietnamese restaurant. Ruminating over my faulty planning in this evening’s fallout, the tofu fried rice lay in my churning gut leading to reflux induced regret.

Arriving back to the B&B, I wrote a nasty shameful email to the Scottish Chamber Orchestra (several actually) demanding a refund. 3 emails later and a $58 phone call once back home to the SCO box office I only learned that it was indeed the Uber driver who dumped us at the wrong place. In the politest way, I was informed “no refund” crazy lady.  Then, I reached out to Uber where I was reimbursed the 8 pounds for the ride with a pathetic apology.  In summary, I wasted $58 to try to compensate $85 which cost me $143. Embarrassingly, these mix ups were completely avoidable-premium amateur level blunders-I learned several lessons on this evening which I will humbly share.

1. Always allow Hubs to make the plans. Don’t under any circumstances allow yours truly to plan any components of a trip.
2. Do not underestimate the statement “Make reservations several weeks ahead of time”. This will be the theme throughout – we will revisit this rule later as well.
3. Always map out excursions and balance out activities. Piling on too many events in one day dilutes the fun factor and makes it feel obligational.

Trudging our way back, my well-earned step count was over 28,000 and my tired (but happy) tootsies felt every single one of those glorious steps.  

Day 3 Glasgow 

Although last night did not go as planned, with over 30 European getaways, we have learned many times things do not.  We will encounter similar challenges in other forms and versions, and once again will be faced confronting certain mistakes. Bouncing back from disappointment and making the best of it will make or break the remaining course. As I laid in a dreamlike state in the wondrous Shangri-la of the bed, enveloped in the cushy linens like fluffy cashmere clouds, I was reminded the finer things in life truly do make a difference. Evidenced by the last few days -I have been sleeping sublimely, awakening more rested than I have in years.

Our breakfast was waiting for us outside the door-delicious Scottish oatmeal filling, hearty and hot-with an option to add Whiskey to it–Gasp (I declined). With our bellies full, we made our way down the street to the Kelvingrove Park. There was a brisk nip in the air, and even though it was still early, there were many people out, well behaved dogs galloped next to their owners, adorable children bundled up, their overstuffed little bodies emitting angelic giggles-we leisurely kicked the crimson carpet of the autumn leaves eventually making our way to Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum.  

Entry to the museum is free and we were pleasantly surprised by the array of works displayed. Some of the more prolific artists were Picasso, Van Gogh, Matisse, and Manet. The paintings included simple yet interesting facts with a pleasing layout that invited engagement and interactivity. At 1pm every day an organ concert is performed. The pipe organ was originally for the Glasgow International Exhibition 1901.  It is the masterpiece of the museum located in the center hall and comprised of 2,889 copper organ pipes. A small cluster of seats quickly filled up, obedient children sat cross legged on the floor, everyone’s eyes directed to the grand organ. At 1pm precisely, the intense organ melodies filled the room.

The organist’s fingers tenderly tapped the organ’s keys releasing the reverberative sounds notes of current music by Adelle, Michael Jackson, as well as a stirring rendition of “Hey Jude.”

Hubs and I parked ourselves on a balcony bench with an unencumbered bird’s eye view. The evocative cords of the organ combined with the compelling art surroundings provided a fully captivating experience.

We visited the Kelvingrove Gift Shop, amused and mischievous we played with everything. I purchased a fabulous pageboy hat that kept me warm throughout this journey.

Leaving the museum, we strolled back through the park. It was just as popular as earlier this morning. We sat on a bench in mutual content silence shaded by the canopy of trees, creating a mini eclipse from the powerful warming sun.

A sucker for high tea we took the last reservation at the Hidden Lane Tearoom. Tucked in a secret alleyway of the West End in the neighborhood of Finnieston was an Alice in Wonderland type hodge podge claustrophobic maze of shops, artists and designers.

We arrived at the packed teahouse a few minutes early and were turned away. We walked around the eclectic area, poking our heads in the tiniest of shop stalls displaying overpriced and unambitious pottery.  

Returning to the Tea Room, it was evident all the baked goods had been ransacked with not even a vegan brownie neglected. In my mind, I imagined a three-tier sandwich tray-cucumber canapes and dainty food one eats with one pinky up in the air. In my fantasy I was at a 5-star hotel with a violin quartet strumming Victorian classics while candles fluttered in the fading afternoon sun. Also, in my mythical vision I was wearing a wide brim straw hat, a size 4 sun dress with slender tan shoulders. None of this was the case, I did have a rather stellar Halloumi cheese and red pepper sandwich. Otherwise instead of a high-end hotel setting, our cozy table positioned in the aftermath post-lunch rush-tables dirty and deserted, no violin classics to be heard, and certainly no flickering melted candles. No sweet treats remained as mentioned. But all in all, even though it was not the high tea I had envisioned I was with Hubs in Scotland exploring the great unknown.

Lesson #4 involves expectations. Keep them low, reasonable, affordable, and obtainable. Be realistic with planning and try to avoid creating your own fairy tale-it will not live up and will always be a setup for failure. Keeping it real, dinner this evening was peanut butter and jelly sandwiches-saving a ton of money and delicious.  

Day 4 Kilmartin

Departing Glasgow, I was conflicted. I grew to appreciate Lorrain’s commanding structure and organizational chutzpah. In the end, she knows her clients well, takes pride in her work and it truly shows. I loved the safety of her home, the indulgence of my needs being fully tended to and not having to think, plan or arrange when it came to certain matters. As time and geographical distance grew between us, Lorrain and 15 Glasgow, I was able to piece it all together and became much more appreciative of her style, her home and even her rules. I began to understand the rationale, recognize her actions, and value her love for her home. 15 Glasgow was pure elegance, luxury, and indulgence. I slept blissfully, I ate without guilt, and I learned and lived Glasgow culture. 15 Glasgow checked all the boxes.

We parted ways and took the 1 mile walk to Avis to pick up our rental car. Our silver Peugeot was waiting for us. I was surprised how quickly Hubs adapted to driving on the opposite side of the road and in what is our passenger seat.

Within seconds he had it down fighting Glasgow traffic like a true native. After a short time on the road, the landscape changed drastically to rolling hills with vast golden fields. We drove in muted contentment through the translucent shimmering waterways of Loch Lomond and the natural richness of the National Park Trossachs. Our sturdy Peugeot hugged the sharp turns as we passed daring cyclists zipping down the challenging gradient. Draping trees with rust colored foliage whizzed by and the backdrop was nothing short of a vivid landscape painting.

The road turned into one lane and the ratio of sheep to cars were outnumbered. We made an impulsive decision to pull off at Kilmartin Hotel for lunch. This one spontaneous choice would impact our travels for the next 24 hours. We were greeted immediately by Richard- the owner, who we would get to know very well. We were led to a room of mismatched cozy furniture, tartan print deeply trafficked carpet with an austere smoldering fireplace providing warmth. A soccer game on TV held all the patrons’ attention-a simple space informal and comfortable providing a quintessential Scottish Pub experience. We were informed the kitchen would be closing in 5 minutes -that did not deter us or Richard. I had a Halloumi cheese salad while Hubs had a Pork Tenderloin, surprisingly sophisticated for such a humble establishment.

Hubs, distracted and perplexed, preoccupied with concern, squinting at his phone, mapping out our next destination seemed preoccupied with concern. The map displayed a route with a travel time of 4 hours-even though we were 5 miles away. Richard took a great interest in our plight and explained devastating landslides occurred last week wiping out segments of the road rendering it impassable. He said it was an unprecedented week of record rain, leading to flooding, destruction and required 10 people to be airlifted to safety. It would take 18 months to fully repair the road damage- flooding hits Argyll  

There was only one option for navigation as any other possible route was now nonexistent. There was not a feasible way to get to our destination this evening.   We contacted Roger at our next destination Corrie House and he agreed that attempting to do the drive at this time would not be safe. Richard had one room left, offering it to us. And so, we all decided that we would remain in Kilmartin and head out tomorrow. The room was 90 pounds including breakfast. He brought us to the minimalist room which we were grateful for.

Once that was all taken care of, we had the remainder of the day to explore tiny Kilmartin. The population of the town is roughly 400 and is only 6 miles long. It is best known for its over 800 prehistoric monuments and historic sites which includes rock carvings, ancient standing stones and burial cairns dating back to almost 5,000 years ago-all of which was situated directly across from the hotel. The Kilmartin Museum was closing as we entered, so we made our way down a path that led to an open field. The rock formations dotted the area that was shared with sheep. We walked amongst the sheep dodging the turd land mines. It was an odd, surreal situation amidst ancient sacred markers while walking amongst livestock. A feisty mutton or two charged at us-I do not blame them for breaching their quarters.

As we made our way back, adjacent to the hotel was a darling village. One of which was so fascinating, I believed it to be a shop. I cupped my hands against the window to examine the store and all its goods. A woman on a couch glared back at me, alarmed with horror on her face, I mouthed the words “Are you open?” As my hand stretched out in search of the door. I then realized this was her home-and sadly not a shopping opportunity for me. I was just in search of a bargain and some souvenirs-sorry! With no one else in the town left to harass or frighten, we retired back to the room.

Later, we found ourselves back at the Pub for dinner. This crowd was a bit rowdier-a raucous Rugby game of France vs. South Africa on the tv. The pub was full, mostly locals, dogs sat by at their owner’s feet complacent and dutiful. Everyone was very talkative and friendly. We were thrilled to witness Pub life. Hubs nibbled on Fish and Chips and sipped his Tennents Beer while I had an unappealing version of a veggie burger. Back in the room after a bizarre day of unexpected detours, the sounds of Rugby rejoicing led us to sleep.

Day 5 Kilmartin-CraobhHaven, Lochgilphead  

Waking up this morning was met with moans and groans crammed together head to foot clinging to the mattress sides like Titanic survivors on a life raft. Even though we were grateful for the lodging due to the unfortunate circumstances, the reality is we are not double bed kind of folks. We made our way back to the pub for meal 3. Richard was quite the industrious fellow as he seemed to have a finger on the pulse of all Pub activities. He shared with us he worked here as a boy of 14 years old and later went on to own it-operating as a family business with his daughters. We enjoyed a homemade hot breakfast, delicious hash browns and Hubs declaring the best scrambled eggs he has ever had. We said our goodbyes. Old Kilmartin served us well.

We backtracked driving to Inveraray enroute to the Inveraray Castle. Surprisingly modest (as royal castles go) it has a homey essence. Serving as a part time dwelling, it remains a living residence for the descendants of the Duke of Argyll serving as the seat of the Clan Campbell.

There was a stirring room of armor with an active crackling fireplace warming up the chilled room. We circled through the rooms entertained by the royal pageantry of it all. Of note, this was the same castle as the one filmed in the Downton Abbey-the 2012 Christmas Special the mythical Scottish home-Duneagle Castle for Marquess and Marchioness of Flintshire. 

We took a 2 mile walk around the sprawling imperial grounds, over an aged bridge, cinnamon-colored leaves melted into the damp earth, the incendiary fragrance of burning firewood in the air with only the sound of our feet crushing the pebbles. Our noses and hands scarlet with hypothermia warmed up as the sun beamed in and out of the forested awning created by the trees.

After the walk, we made our way into the charming Inveraray village, stopping first at the Inveraray Woollen Mill which was once home to the blacksmith and granary built by the 5th Duke of Argyll in 1772. Hubs was on a mission to get a quality wool sweater. Living in Florida, the use of a wool sweater is as beneficial as a snow blower. But, here, if only for a few days it was a lifeline. The bristling wind gusts, and 40-degree temperatures required it. After long deliberation, he found the perfect sweater. Wool tickles my nose and throws me into an itching frenzy, but I do deeply regret not getting one as well.  

We moved on to more stores displaying overpriced Highland Cows (hairy coos) tchotchkes, whiskey novelties and other doodads. The fact that I collect cows, one would think I was in bovine nirvana!

But it appears a real lack of creativity, each store selling the same high-priced trinkets. Also, due to its enchanting allure, it is a tour bus mecca. A continuous procession of khaki pant wearing tourists dismantled the buses, posed for photo ops, manic speed shopping, back on the bus and repeat. We have done the tour bus shuffle once. We realized the freedom of independence outweighs any benefits of a tour. In the compact size stores, the stampede of tunnel vision consumers takes the fun out of it.

We stood in front of the grandiose vision Loch Fyne -the longest of the sea lochs in Scotland. The indigo blue infinite waterway created a dreamlike mirror illusion. I can see why the tour buses make it part of the itinerary.  

We began our journey to our next destination Craobhhaven. Arresting mountains consumed the endless horizon as Hubs managed the twisty roads. I found myself at an unusual lack of words for the awe and brilliance that was seen from that moment on. I am forever ruined as my bar has been reset, recalibrated and will no longer accept to be visually impressed by anything less than what I saw, felt, heard, smelled and observed on the way to Craobhhaven and Corrie House.

Pulling up to the Corrie House, we were immediately greeted by owners Roger and Sallie Gaskell. The house is a superior glass vision of spectacular beauty. Calming jazz, pleasant lighting and mouthwatering smells of dinner cooking filled the entryway. We stood in front of the main room revealing 360 degrees of jaw dropping views. I now understand what breathtaking means as I was literally holding my breath as I stared mesmerized at the scene in front of us. Roger went on to explain the geography of the area as we marveled in fascination.

The Isle of Jura and the uninhabited Isle of Scarba merge at the Gulf of Corryvreckan to create the Corryvreckan Whirlpool-the third largest whirlpool in the world. In Gaelic it is described as the “cauldron of the speckled seas”. It is a natural phenomenon that occurs from obstructed tides, dangerous currents, standing waves, and sudden calm waters between the two islands. It can be very dangerous with an intensity that can pull in boats and destroy sea life.

There are Legends and folk lore built around this that recount tales of a maiden’s hair used to sail to safety. I must disclose that this entire Scotland idea was romantically constructed from a movie that depicted the whirlpool, its persistent mysterious force and dynamic draw to the Isle of Mull. I Know Where I’m Going! made in 1945, stands the test of time and illustrates the spellbinding draw and fury between the characters and the mystique of mother nature. It is what conceived our adventure and continues to hold my captivation.  

Off in the distance, the tantalizing landscape of the magnetic Isle of Mull teased us-as sadly, and ironically it failed to make the itinerary due to ferry limitations and time constraints. The marina sailboats tethered, bobbed buoyantly up and down. We were taken to the Isley room with an equally hypnotic view as below. We wandered out to the balcony where the most astounding panoramic seascape bestowed us.

The room was expertly decorated, no detail was missed, furnished with high end and timeless pieces, the softest linens of a premium thread count (450), curtains thick, lavish, and exotic, down pillows plush and unresisting. Inviting robes hung in the alluring bathroom, a stately tub, a glass shower and even more extraordinary scenery-certainly the prettiest lookout from a toilet I have ever seen!

We settled in, capturing the final moments of the vanishing sunset. The deep pink sky melting into the sea’s edges. We had pre-arranged dinner that was prepared by Roger and his wife Sallie. The atmosphere was relaxed and felt like we were having dinner with good friends. A family sat adjacent with a docile dog under the table. I was provided with the most flavorful, savory carrot and ginger soup. It was a bowl of velvet deliciousness that produced immediate euphoria. I experienced an out of body ethereal response wondering if crack was a major ingredient. The orange-colored liquid of love transcended me into a soup infused serenity. Hubs chomped on a hearty pork chop appearing satisfied.

We retired back to the room. I drew a hot bath in the white porcelain canoe shaped tub. As I lowered my girthy apple shaped body in the tepid waters I slid all the way down unable to position myself in any which way. Like an acrobatic fish fighting for its life, I battled my own version of a whirlpool -struggling to hoist myself up. I splashed futilely prone, then supine, out of breath and quickly losing my soup infused high. I gave up-sinking like a stone. Like a slippery seal, with my short arms and stocky torso I was able to splash my way back to land. Add this bath debacle to all the other travel bathroom mishaps (refer to previous blogs)-I am nothing if not consistent. I also have no doubt that the flippety-flop fiasco was 100% user issue with no one else to blame.  

Exhausted from the tub trauma as well as a completely exhilarating full day, we went one final time outside on the balcony. It was around 36 degrees (Fahrenheit)- practically glacial for a Floridian. We looked up at the almost perfectly black sky and saw what a city gal never gets to see-stars. A million of them-illuminated twinkling, gleaming-like our own personal planetarium. The profound silence was foreign-not the traffic speedway and engine backfire soundtrack that plays on a continuous loop outside my own bedroom window back home. The boat marina was lit up-interfering with complete darkness putting a minor damper on the otherwise galactic scenescape. Off way, way in the distance facing North was a bucket list item that made up for my near-death bathtub event. The hazy, astral miraculous glow of the Northern Lights– Aurora Borealis! We shivered in the nippy night, craning our necks in an awkward, dizzying position mentally snapping this cosmic moment as it could not be captured by your everyday camera. Sleep came seamless on this evening, in the tranquil oasis of the dreamy, sumptuous bed.

In the morning, we awoke to a stunning, clear sky and a perfect outlook of our surroundings. Breakfast was waiting for us by our gracious hosts Roger and Sallie. Roger shared with us the region, how it was impacted by Covid, the challenges of building in the area, his former life as a CEO of tech company and other riveting tidbits.

The short time we spent at Corrie House was quality versus quantity. The home was so welcoming, the food-top notch, the bed, the sleep, the furnishings-set the bar for what I now expect from a B&B. Roger and Sallie created a utopia within their home that includes all the ingredients for an outstanding sanctuary. I will forever remember and savor my time at Corrie House.  

Day 6 Portree Isle of Skye

We parted ways with Roger and Sallie and the thrilling CraobhHaven region. Today would be our longest travel day yet-4.5 hours but Hubs had worked hard orchestrating this route and included fun pit stops along the way. We had been working our way West and now we would be heading North and even further West-final destination Portree. The topography was ever changing. It went from heavy forest, overgrowth of trees to completely barren mountains. Goldened Heather blanketed the sloped earth, the desolate ground that once was abundant with 14 million trees had been removed to make way for windfarms. The lack of a natural barrier arguably may have been the cause for the previous week’s landslides and road closures. This all can be debated legitimately, and I hold no stake in this issue as it is not my home or area of expertise. There are most definitely valid points to both sides. I share this only to highlight the harsh contrast visually between the overgrowth and starkness was markedly evident.

Around halfway, we swung in quickly to Eilean Donan Castle. Dating back to the 6^th century, this iconic landmark is popular. The castle sits on the peaty, mucky beach isolated on an island. We popped out of the care, took a few pics, selfies with the castle in the foreground and back in the car on the road.

Roger recommended a quick detour to Plockton known as the “Jewel of the Highlands” on the way to Isle of Skye. It only diverted us 20 minutes. An idyllic sea coastal town, thriving and hustling with crowds in the summer was a secluded hidden gem with only locals on this day. The tide had withdrawn, realigning the rustic fishing boats that were motionless marinated in the boggy, viscous marsh where they once floated weightlessly upon a briny sea. Barely visible feisty gnats orbited my defenseless neck, while I swatted and cursed at the invisible irritants. We walked through the village -petite cottages circled the bay. Due to its isolated and unique ecosystem and climate, out of place palm trees stood upon wooded crags (stone cliffs). The silhouette of Duncraig Castle stood stoic off in the distance. We scarfed down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as we continued onto Skye.  

Dusk was setting as we entered the busy seaside harbor town of Portree. Upon entering the city limits immediate regret, remorse and shame filled me. There were only 2 items I was responsible for-by my insistence- the symphony concert in Scotland- we all know how that ended. Hubs foolishly trusted me-breaking Rule #2. Portree is the capital of Skye, a colorful small village with essentially 2 main streets consisting of restaurants and shops. It is a great jetting off point for all the major sites. However, coming from full service, catered B&B to a self-service Airbnb required a major pivot. This was an intentional decision that allowed us to do our laundry, take advantage of a kitchen, gain a little privacy and be smack dab in the main hub. I won’t call this “bait and switch”, but it was certainly a case of some major touching up, photo shopping and omission.

The first aggravation was the parking situation. Only a few free options, we got lucky and snagged a spot directly across Harborview Airbnb. I had been in constant communication with the owner David who had made himself very available and answered all my inquiries. I don’t fault him for my disappointment, but I do find it necessary to be transparent and open regarding Harborview’s major shortcomings.

The first thing I did regrettably was open the refrigerator. The horrid smell of a rotting corpse infiltrated the entire first floor. The determination was immediately made that the refrigerator was unusable. I alerted David, the owner who genuinely was horrified. He apologized profusely and arranged for the housekeeper to return in the morning to clean it. We arranged our whole day around her arrival and later realized she never did come-any of the 3 days we were there.

High rated reviews praised the beautiful furnishings, décor, and views. It is true the views of the Portree Harbor were abundant and visible from the vantage point of the kitchen, living room and bedrooms. There was also a Fish and Chips eatery on the ground level. The constant migration of people congregated below with their greasy indulgence, drifting into the street with their rubbish. The fishy fried remains eventually found their way to the garbage bins that descended at the base of the unit. Overly rambunctious, shrilly seagulls made their way to the abandoned leftovers. They swarmed in chaotic crazy 8’s swooping down, poking with their chiseled beak, diving kamikaze style, pilfering through the remnants.

Directly below us at the street level was a bar/restaurant Lower Deck Seafood Restaurant. The quiet solitude that had followed us throughout each location abruptly ended in this dwelling. The heartbeat thump of rhythmic base, the cadence of carried voices and grating laughter rumbled through the thin aging walls. The décor was akin to Nana Cohen circa 1972. Scratchy couch, sunken cushions, and oddly low hanging paper lantern lamps that Hubs and I continually walked into. They served no purpose I could fathom other than to irritate innocent Airbnb renters.

We got settled and ventured out for dinner. As we made our way down the only 2 streets in the village, we noticed many couples similar to us peering in restaurants, studying menus, and then moving on. We soon were reminded (once again) reservations needed. Now, keep in mind- this was late October, way past the end of season, a weekday-with half-filled dining rooms. Just as we experienced in Glasgow, we leapfrogged from one restaurant to the next only to be turned away. We crisscrossed the other unfortunate couples, all with similar sullen, hungry, desperate discouragement on their faces.

Ready to give up, we made one final attempt at Tianavaig Restaurant. On the one hand we were grateful to find food, but it was not cheap and not particularly good. I had a carrot ginger soup that made me pine for Sallie’s liquid love back at Corrie House. It was not even close. Hubs had some sort of Beef Pie concoction that he moved around, picked apart like a finicky child-his fork poking it with visceral disappointment. 

We returned back on a mission-laundry. We were down to nothing clean and had always intended this would be our laundry destination. That machine was definitely put to use, shaking the 200-year-old innards of poor Harborview. With no dryer, our clothes were strown every square inch like a Naples tenement. We certainly took full advantage of the washing machine if nothing else.

The bed situation was unconventional but not a surprise for us. There was a double bed and, in another room, a twin bed. We split up and each took our own room. My queen size body sunk with little protest into the slender bed, so tired I did not care. The windy hurricane gusts registered 47 mph on my weather app, the sheer windowpane whistled, shook, and wheezed throughout the entire night. It was a blustery lullaby vibrating, challenging the integrity of our shelter. A few times, I awoke peering out at the eerie dark harbor. The tide was in various states each time-the water current demonstrating remarkable force, the fishing boats see-sawed back and forth like an energetic rocking horse. In the morning, like a fever dream-I almost felt like I imagined it. The tide returned back to the edge of the seawall; white spray misted over the barrier. There were no signs of last evening’s dramatic water spectacle. Of note, Storm Babet was likely some of the weather we were experiencing. This weather system created a lot of havoc across the UK.  Regardless, whether it was Mother Nature or the natural conditions of the Harbor-it was quite the show.

Day 7 Portree Isle of Skye

We allotted 2 full days in Skye because there was so much to see and do. Starting off on this day everything was new and fresh, unknown territory that we had researched extensively. To be able to see it in real life was surreal. The one good thing about Portree is the proximity to all the major geological landmarks. The plan for the day was to loop the Trotternish Pennisula-an 18-mile stretch and the spine of the island. This would be a full day dawn to dusk starting off at Old Man of Storr located on the Trotternish Ridge. It is one of the most popular walks and busiest attractions. It is 55 meters high composed of Basalt Rock remnants from a volcanic plug.

We arrived at the car park and almost immediately a slow, steady drizzle began. For as much preparation we did, we were not dressed as best as we could be. Hikers around us were in rain gear, hiking boots, walking sticks and waterproof hats. Hubs was more appropriate than me, sporting fashion wellies and very little was waterproof (I found out the hard way). The 3.8 km path is all pebble and gravel with trip worthy misshapen rocks all along the route. There are 2 path options, we chose the less steep path. Even at that, it is straight uphill. Friendly, frisky dogs unleashed bypassed us, wagging tails bouncing enthusiastically all the way. My saturated hood of my coat obstructed my view as the weight of the wet fabric hung over my eyes. As we continued to climb higher, the grey sky, biting air and persistent rain wore away at me. I got in my head, irritated with my depleting energy. In the end, we made it about halfway to the 719-meter summit, before we descended our way down.

This day would be a lot of in and out of the car, mud splatters, deep cavernous potholes, and auto negotiation due to single track routes. A fun, friendly camaraderie of waving in gratitude ensued when the approaching car pulled over for right of way. We passed many high-end vans, tour options with someone else, a third party managing the challenging roadways. I had my own personal chauffeur who was becoming quite proficient at these tricky thoroughfares. If you plan on doing this loop, prepare for a long day and know that likely you will not see it all.

We made our way to Lealt Waterfall the site of a former chalk mine. A short boardwalk extends out offering views of the gorge and the waterfall. The weather had deteriorated at this point making the scenery less memorable.

We traveled a little distance from the falls to Kilt Rock a 60-meter cliff that resembles a pleated kilt. From the steep overhang the stunning 55-meters Mealt Waterfall dramatically cascades straight into the Mealt Loch below.

By this time, we grew hungry and swung in The Hungry Gull for lunch. It was a popular place, busy with happy patrons gobbling down hefty portions. The friendly staff there were all smiling and accommodating. I was frozen to the bone with cold and had some hot tasty soup with delicious, perfect golden chips. Hubs had hot chocolate and traditional Fish and Chips. They had many vegan and gluten free specials on the menu as well. This was one of our favorite meals and hit all the right notes in every way.

We got back in the car and continued on the loop. I put on some anthemic Scottish music as we passed resting rams in the sloping emerald, green fields. Next, was the beguiling Quiraing, on the northern tip of the island. This area is the remnants of an ancient landslide. It is full of breathtaking valleys, gorges, and mountainous peaks. We attempted to go on a short walk, but the wind gusts were fierce and ferocious pushing against us as if in a cyclone machine. The panoramic outlook was jaw dropping, awe inspiring, grandeur.

Next, we explored a bit more at Kilmuir Graveyard where the Jacobite’s Rising heroine Flora MacDonalds Grave marker stands tall. The backstory and historical facts are complicated, and I would likely botch them. Fun fact, it has been said at Flora’s funeral in 1790 the 3,000 mourners consumed over 300 gallons of whisky. It has also been suggested that her original mausoleum was chipped away over the years for souvenirs. It was replaced in 1880.

The last place we went was my favorite, but sadly stamina and brain focus were dimming as quickly as the daylight. On the West side of Trotternish, is the enchanting home of the Fairy Glen. It is a series of small round grassy hills with ponds in between. A whimsical mythical series of conical earthworks and mounds are in a low-lying valley all surrounded by hills and cliffs. It is a challenging geographical scene to depict. It has an out of worldly feel to it, paradisiac, magical and transcending.

We walked a path through the illusive constant changing topography. We did not have enough time here, which I deeply regret. I would not be seeing this formidable spectacle phenomenon again.

Running on fumes, but always room in my reserves for shopping, we made it to Uig Pottery. A women run establishment comprised of 8 women all doing what they love. We perused the handmade objects, creative, colorful and all unique. I bought a pair of angels and a few other items exclusive to Skye. We spoke with the owner, a lovely woman who clearly was living her best life-cultivating a niche, a real talent that offers a tangible memory of Scotland.

Returning back to Portree, finding a parking spot was a miserable task. We were yelled at and harassed as we waited for a spot or made an innocent inquiry to a couple in a questionable state of departure. Eventually, we got a premium spot in front of the Airbnb. The housekeeper never came to clean the fridge of death -which was truly no surprise. More laundry ensued as the restaurant below was in high gear, music vibrations shook the walls in sync with the overstuffed washer. We had a light dinner of cheese sandwiches purchased at the local grocery store-the Co-Op. The harbor was active with a turbulent sea spray, the winds were savage. The slapping water upon the sea wall was unrelenting. The same symphony of harbor sounds, window rattling, bopping boats and bipolar tides provided another striking repeat performance as the previous night.

Day 8 Portree Isle of Skye

This day would be our last in Skye and we wanted to take full advantage of it. Today we would be doing an alternate route around the Duirinish Pennisula starting with the Dunvegan Castle-which is the oldest continuously inhabited castle in Scotland and the ancestral home of the Chiefs of Clan Macleod for 800 years.

As we exited the vehicle, a friendly woman approached informing us that the gardens and castle were closed (Reopening April 1, 2024-October 15, 2024). On this day it was October 19. We had missed our window. However, as luck would have it-this one day only it was open to benefit Macmillan Cancer Support, a UK based charity for those who are impacted by cancer. Only the gardens would be accessible this one day only open to explore for Free! Additionally, the coffee shop would be serving cakes and coffee for donation only.  

The castle covers ten different building periods from 1200 to the 1850s, with restoration in 1840. It was opened to the public in 1933. The exterior was in various stages of minor repairs due to its current closure, so we spent little time there. With no rain and hardly anyone else there, we leisurely roamed starting with water gardens. Wooden connecting bridges camouflaged into the natural environment above babbling brooks, the steady trickling of a stream, copious species of plants, greenery, flora, and vegetation. A modest waterfall with soothing sounds of gentle water. Each twist and turn in these tranquil gardens offered rapturous glory. Tall slender trees reaching to the skies, sunlight slivered through the lumber appendages of forest. Exotic bamboo next to pastel Hydrangeas, thick bulging tree roots under foot threatening our traction. A greenhouse, toasty and humid held the most precious of all plant life, sheltered from the precarious outside elements.  

We moved onto the walled garden, a kaleidoscope of the most vibrant hues, vivid, bold, and perfect. Saffron yellow blooms, punchy pink buds, and periwinkle blossoms-foreign delicate living jewels that sparkle in their own right. Meticulously trimmed French gardens outline a Zenlike fountain with the placid steady tempo of the water. As we finished rain drops began to fall. We went to the coffee shop Macleod Tables Cafe. As mentioned earlier everything was donation-which we gladly contributed.  What we did not know was everything was high quality beautiful cakes, pastries, barista style coffee even vegan and gluten free pastry chef level desserts. We sat down, friendly chitter chatter around us-sweet treats, a great cause, and an afternoon of free visual delights.

Back in the car the path we challenged deep and deceptive potholes, ultrathin hold your breath, clutch the sides, kind of narrow roads. Sheep voyaged into the street, mindless, munching on grass with no interest in headlights or a distracted tourist. Hopscotching vehicles, scooching from one pull-off to the next we made our way to Neist Point Lighthouse, built in 1900 and one of the most famous lighthouses in Scotland it sits on the most Westerly tip of Skye.

Emerging from the car, the wind gusts were hurricane strength, practically pushing us over. As we stood close to a cliff, this was somewhat concerning. On the website it says it is an “easy walk”. This was not the impression we had as our car door flung open, the tornado intensity bristling through us. There was no way we would see the lighthouse. We came, we saw, we failed.

We made a spontaneous decision as the sky grew dark and the rain started. We headed to Talisker Distillery. Neither one of us drinks liquor nor has any interest in single malt whiskey- so it is curious why we thought this would be an activity we would enjoy.

The weather continued to deteriorate. We pulled over and realized we were at the Fairy Pools small waterfalls and swimming holes. Known for their pristine turquoise sublime waters-this would not be the day we would see this phenomenon. With full darkness approaching, rain, wind and cold-we chose to abandon this.

As we exited, we could not help but notice the Cuillin Mountain Range, among the steepest in the UK. From our viewpoint, it looked like rust colored velvet. Smooth, sloped earth with nothing but high elevation, and copper terrain. I am certain there is more to this area, but our time was short, distant, and fleeting. We made our way back to Portree, more laundry, soup and a sandwich and howling winds as our night in Skye came to a close.

Day 9 Highlands-Cairngorms National Park

This morning we headed out, leaving old Harborview-our stinky Airbnb. Portree served as a convenient starting off spot. It was unfortunate we did not get to really fully absorb the Portree vibe. In fact, we only went to the grocery store and one meal, which was mediocre at best. There was some disappointment as well within the residence. One good thing about disappointment is one appreciates the good fortunes that much more. It did not help matters we were coming from a place of ultra-opulence and amenities. It does not take much to impress me or keep me content, complimentary tea bags, a hot shower, a comfy bed, fluffy towels all will satisfy me wholly. Portree was purposeful and allowed us to see everything on our list, do our wash, and indulge in some privacy. No obligational breakfast times, no shoe wearing shame, etc… I realize I come off harsh on this evaluation. If I could offer one improvement recommendation it would be fumigate the fridge. Nonetheless, Skye was a majestic paradise that surpassed every expectation.  

Driving to our next destination, the towering tawny mountains of the imposing Red Cuillins stretched in front of us like the primordial pyramids. The luminescence of the lustrousness Loch Ailort glimmered in pictorial unity. We listened intently to a satanic Steven King audio book- Holly about gruesome and diabolical murder. The absurd paradox of extreme beauty verses the grim dark tale left us bizarrely and curiously unaffected. As we approached the Highlands, the halfway point we entered the small town of Strathcarron. We pulled over for a brief hot coffee and a vital stretch of the legs at the quaint Strathcarron Hotel. This would be the exact place Hubs lost his fine, brown hat. I must credit him for the 9 days he had it. As a loser of all items not attached to him, we can add this to the list of the misplaced: camera case, jackets, gloves, phones, and more…And, although the hat was sacrificed the break was quick and necessary.  

Next, we made it to the big city of Inverness-the capital of the Highlands. After being surrounded the last several days by incredible rapture, the muted tones of the urban center, the loud street noise and the hustle bustle of downtown were a palate cleanser for my sheltered world. Needing some nutritional fuel, we impulsively slid into the unassuming Red Pepper. We slurped hot soup and a light sandwich. Later, this would be a regretful decision that left me incapacitated for an entire evening. Heading back we passed the famous Inverness Cathedral-just a nod and acknowledgement before we continued onto our B&B. Sadly, the food poisoning hellscape I endured is all I can recall from our time in Inverness.

We drove entering the Cairngorms National Park-the largest of UK’s national parks, in the heart of Scotland. It is made up of countryside, mountains, nature reserves, wildlife, lochs, and forests. My gut protested confinement and I cursed the Red Pepper folks. Eventually, we made it to Crubenbeg Country House. Debilitated by my situation, I fled straight to our room. I instituted a nothing by mouth moratorium this evening, resetting my tenacious internal homeostasis. Annie, the host invited me into the shared guest space, the cardinal blaze of the fireplace provided a calming convalescence.   

The cozy home, relaxing setting and Annie’s easy-going nature accelerated my recuperation. She offered to make Hubs hot soup as our dinner reservations had to be cancelled. Hubs joined me by the fire, enjoying vegetable soup while we took in Annie’s interesting array of collectibles. A piano displayed with keepsakes and mementos representing Annie’s life and loves.  After some fireside chit chat, we returned to the room for sleep. The room was just as welcoming as the rest of her home. Our windows looked out to the expansive Spey Valley. Dreamy cushiony chairs and an equally blissful cocoon of a bed created a sleep rhapsody.  

Day 10 Cairngorms National Park

Waking up, the tumultuous tummy from last night seemed to be fully fixed. Annie had a vegan breakfast waiting for me including what became my soon to be favorite-Vegetarian Haggis composed of oats, barley, and veggies. Hubs went a more traditional route with home cooked eggs all made by Annie herself. Her genuine concern for our needs was heartwarming. We noshed our yummies in the ornate dining room, watching eager birds compete at a popular bird feeder.

It was 36 degrees, rainy and an all-around unpleasant weather day. We sat at the table uneager to tackle the elements and conversed with Annie over an hour. I can’t recall the last time I was that engaged in a discussion, with no obligations pecking at my brain.

The cold and rain eliminated a lot of what was planned on this day. The property is isolated and sits at the base of the Falls of Truim. We drove into the small village of Newtonmore, which consisted of 1 street. We warmed up with some tea and coffee at Antlers Cafe. We attempted to go to the Highland Folk Museum, an open-air museum that takes you through life in the Highlands from the 1700’s to the 1950’s. But the weather was not favorable for this type of activity. We made an impromptu visit to the Dalwhinnie Distillery. This time we made it to the entrance. But, at 17 pounds a person and a 2 hour wait, we passed on this. We perused the overpriced goods in the gift shop and decided to call it quits-deeming it a take it easy rest day.

Back at the B&B we relaxed. The constant drizzle never stopped and the cold penetrated through to my bones. For dinner Annie had made us a reservation in the village. At the Balavil Hotel we ate well, I enjoyed a Leek Potato soup providing me with much needed warmth and a forgettable barely consumed salad. Hubs had a fried brie appetizer and a chicken pot pie. One thing we observed was no matter where we were from Glasgow to the Highlands, all restaurants had many similar meal options with little variance. It was interesting that no matter where the restaurant fell on the spectrum of 1 star to high end-the consistency of variety was a common theme. Hubs had sampled every possible option, except the Haggis-meat pudding made from leftover sheep heart, liver and lungs (that is a solid No Thank you for me).

A frightening swervey drive home, in the unknown darkness, missing a turn, with cars right on our rear turned the 5-minute travel into 15.  Satiated, the persistent pitter patter of rain lulled us to sleep ending this day.

Day 11 Cairngorms National Park

Today would be our last full day in Cairngorms. We awoke to bright sunshine, no signs of rain. Annie greeted us with another tasty breakfast. As we ate, Annie helped us arrange our day. Peppered into the discussion was the history of Crubenbeg and some touching stories. The breakfast conversations were very special to us, and Annie left a place in our heart. She provided us with suggestions for our day which helped formulate a solid plan.

We drove to Glenmore Forest Park-on the way we spotted snow peaked mountain tops. We parked and studied the map extensively, choosing an easy 2-mile trail. The path snaked around the lapping water from Loch Morlich serving as the soundtrack, breaking up pockets of complete silence. Off in the distance, brave canoes and sailboats floated serenely. The smell of earthy forest, evergreens and dampness permeated the crisp cold air. We danced around sneaky knotty roots, embedded vines, and spindly pinecone needles. For the majority of the walk, we were completely alone. When we did run into someone, it was friendly families, smiling couples and enthusiastic dogs. The strong sun warmed our exposed vulnerable noses. We sat on a bench cherishing the last final moments.

Annie had recommended Boat of Garten specifically the 1896 Gallery -a space dedicated to Scottish landscapes and Scottish artists. However, the gallery was closed. We walked around the area; a country club and active steam train rail was mostly what we noticed. We could not figure out what more there was to do, so we moved on from this due to our time limitations.

We continued onto the touristy town of Aviemore. We hopped in and out the stores, all selling the same items. It was crowded and uninspired. It was everything we had successfully avoided for 11 days. After hitting all the shops and managing not to purchase anything, we decided our day had come to an end. Annie had shared with us a dinner choice. Newtonmore Grill also known as the “truck stop” where the real locals eat. I don’t know how to say this nicely-this place was a complete dump. Hubs had a “burger” the meat was totally in question. Little effort was made in taste, quality, or presentation. Reflecting back even now, several weeks later, I cringe that we chose this as a viable meal option.

The rain came back just as we returned to the B&B to start packing. We enjoyed our last night at Crubenbeg knowing the long journey home begins in the morning. The white radiant glow of the potent stars blanketed the vast milky way filling the ebony sky-a beloved parting goodbye.

Day 12 Return to Glasgow

Today was our final day on this whirlwind Scottish excursion. Saying goodbye to Annie was bittersweet. This kind soul had taken care of us for 3 days. In my world where I do most of the caretaking, I do not take this for granted. She also had seen me at one of my physical worsts. For all that and more, we would miss our new friend for life. We also knew that as special as Crubenbeg was that we would likely not be in a position to ever return. So, our farewell was a heartfelt long hug. The weather was the coldest it had been but also the driest with the sun powerful and bright. Annie’s parting gift to us was suggesting a stellar agenda for our last day.

We would be returning back to Glasgow this evening staying wisely next to the airport for an early morning flight. Anything on this day would be a bonus because technically our focus was now centered on the long journey home. We ventured out about 30 minutes to Blair Castle-located in Pitlochry, Perthshire, home of the Atholl Family for over 7 centuries. The chalky-white austere structure goes back 750 years. Pewter turrets break up the outer simplicity of the modest estate.

Entering the grounds, the distinctive nasally sounds of bag pipes could be heard. As we grew closer, a true Scotsman in a traditional kilt came into frame-the creator of this Scottish pride piping out the courtyard. Stoic and proud, he blared out his bag pipe melodic harmonies. Inside were 30 rooms decorated in Scots Baronial architecture.

Interesting descriptions provided a thorough explanation of life during the golden years of the castle. We wondered out to the 9-acre Hercules Walled Gardens. We took a leisurely stroll around the 1-mile perimeter including a section dedicated to 18th century sculptures. These grounds also serve as the celebratory annual Highland Games.

We sat on a bench overlooking the immense green field, fluffy sheep dotted the turf in various stages of contentment. Unsure if it was 1 minute or 1 hour that passed, time was irrelevant. I let the sun shine down on my face in gratitude for my time in Scotland, for a flawless trip with my beloved that exceeded my hopes in every way. 

We drove just a little more until we hit the thriving village of Pitlochry-this whole day formulated by Annie’s brilliance. This was just a quick pause for lunch, and we randomly chose the first place we saw-The Old Mill Inn. The restaurant part of a hotel fairly new had an old-world charm to it as it is a former gristmill from the 18^th century.

The menu was the first unique one we saw with a variety of options other than the usual Fish & Chips fare we had seen everywhere. This meal, our last would be my favorite. I had toast with savory mushrooms and gruyere cheese. Hubs had an equally scrumptious meal of mushroom risotto. It was the perfect note to end on. We were parked in 1 hour parking, so sadly we had to hustle out of there. It was an interesting area that I wish I could have explored more.

Back on the road, making good time we were Glasgow bound to return the rental car. We were almost at the end of our Steven King thriller engrossed deeply in the plot. We came to a dead stop in traffic on a 2-lane highway. We waited idle not moving for over an hour. Our vacation was officially over. After an hour the backup-due to poor road construction, began to move. We made it to the closed and locked Avis in the dark and rain-a much different scenario and feeling than a week ago with pick up. We summoned an Uber to take us to our final place Holiday Inn Express Glasgow Airport Hotel. The location could not be more ideal as it was steps from the terminal. With an early flight, we packed and passed out preparing for the dreaded reentry back to reality.

As I pieced together our Scottish Escape over the last 3 weeks, I got to relive it all. I did my best to embrace each experience, be present and treasure every moment. It was challenging as I negotiated the past, present, and future as I initiated the blog midway.

Our time in Scotland was a dream. Glasgow was surprising delight and more than I ever anticipated. It is a user-friendly city, proud of its culture and represents its pride. Lovely parks, good restaurants, amazing art, and friendly people. Craobhhaven was an oddity in contrast of old and new with ancient Kilmartin and burial cairns next to the modern grace of Corrie House. Staring out at the stars our solo evening there was a spiritual moment for me. Gazing out at the Corryvreckan Whirlpool and the endless sea made me aware of my small impact on this great big planet. And, then there was Skye…. An out of worldly geographical Dr. Seuss bag of tricks. The waterfalls, the cliffs, the fairy references-it is a magical concoction of wonderment. The Portree bipolar tides and the eerie supernatural rhythmic wind gusts. And then the Cairngorms. The downtime was a luxury that we certainly took advantage of. The quiet, solitude and nature was healing and restorative. The day of rain forced us to indulge in much needed rest.

Lastly, what really made this trip different than others was the B&B culture. From Lorrain at 15 Glasgow to Richard at Kilmartin Hotel and Roger and Sallie at Corrie House and lovely Annie at Crubenbeg Country House-we were treated so kindly, fed so well, given great recommendations and shown Scotland in the most beautiful way. I am not sure if another Scotland Escape is in our future, but the people, places and beauty will always remain in my heart.

See you next time-February 2024 in Paris!

Love B&F~

B&F’s Scotland Top 10

10. Watching Rugby in Kilmartin Pub

9.  Necropolis Cemetery

8. High Tea at Hidden Lane Tearoom

7. Guru Walks Glasgow Walking Tour/Ian 

6. Inveraray Castle/walk wool sweater purchase

5. Akbar’s Indian Dinner and unbelievable Naan

4. Kelvingrove Museum Art/Free organ concert

3. Dunvegan Castle Gardens (and delicious pastries)

2. Isle of Skye Man of Storr Hike/Quiraing, Views

1. The Corrie House, Mull, view of surrounding islands

With the onset of nursing week, I feel it only apropos to define what Nursing has meant to me-humor me in this humble homage in my rambling reflections and ruminations of The Aging RN.

I nostalgically pondered as I pieced together the colorful collage of 3 decades in healthcare and what nursing has gifted to me. Simply stating that this is a career or livelihood would be downplaying the significance and power my vocation has spilled into all areas of my life. As a young nurse, stubbornly altruistic and naïve, I believed I could indeed save the world. I tenderly held the wrinkled delicate hand of a dying woman and sobbed when she passed. I feverishly and foolishly fought, cunningly campaigned, and piously pushed for safety, fairness, and equality for all.

I made cringeworthy mistakes. I felt the wretched, blood draining horror of a mindless med error followed by shameful humility. I have been heinously yelled at, called the vilest of names and been the target for an aggressively hurled prosthetic leg (that I later had to retrieve). I bandaged 3^rd degree burns on a fragile woman that cried from the healing grace of my tender touch to her seared skin. I listened to the confessions of a remorseful alcoholic offering him compassion, benevolence and mercy.

I’ve witnessed the sickest of sick, unfortunate circumstances colliding with unforgivable fate. I have worked endless holidays; the lonely silent echo of a hospital hallway is louder than any festive Christmas carol. Contrastingly, the earnest innocence of a child’s laughter can singlehandedly drown out the harsh persistent dinging of an incessant call bell.    

I have been provided with the greatest of opportunities that have led to a cornucopia of employment possibilities. Nursing has been a dynamic driving force in my life that has allowed me to see humanity through a majestic kaleidoscope. It has been a reciprocal relationship, not always harmonious- demanding a delicate balance of give and take simultaneously. Most importantly, what it has provided me with is the deepest of friendships, a family of dysfunctional ego driven brilliant souls that challenge, entertain, and continually test my fortitude and worth. I would not change one thing. Nursing has shown me the most profound joy as well as the deepest depths of intense sadness-but in the end, highs and lows-it has been the greatest investment of my life with the richest most magnificent payoff.

For a large majority of my nursing career, I spent caring for pediatric GI patients. I have an inexplicable affinity and fondness particularly for Crohn’s and Ulcerative Colitis. I sympathize in an almost visceral way with the chronic insidious nature of the condition. The circuitous roller coaster existence bookended by flare and remission. The chutes and ladders fruitless game of recovery and repair mystified me. The unexpected land mine of a simple food trigger could activate a cascade event resulting in lengthy relapse. 

My role in their journey serving as a trusted healthcare navigator generated a trauma bonding dynamic. Each bounce back, a tiny piece of their vibrance vanished. Worn away like an eroded rock pummeled by the tumultuous waves of the ocean over time.  And just like the lingering effects of a stormy undercurrent, the strongest parts remained vulnerable and exposed jagged imperfect beauty.

I was there for the diagnosis and when they aged out and transitioned into the foreign world of adulthood. I witnessed frail individuals having to face an insurmountable future of treatment. I knew there would be many that would fail their medications and others that would have to jump through the outrageous hoops of the insurance system trying to find that preferred medicinal miracle cocktail. I was all too familiar with the punishment of bowel rest, the looming possibility of complications, and the anxiety of those first trepidatious days of colonic peace.  

After a year of mystery pain and a complete GI workup-I perused my own results and pathology and saw the familiar words IBD, Colitis, gross inflammation. During the weeks that led to my follow up GI appointment, I hid behind the heavy cloak of denial. I sat in my doctor’s exam room as she detailed the interpretation. Crohn’s, she said- the heavy weight of that simple word landed hard on me. Her no nonsense instructions delivered in a monotone cadence void of options or optimism. I tried to manipulate my way out of this predicament. Bargaining and offering up my best pediatric GI nurse knowledge-immediately followed by harsh laughter.  She said one sentence that lingered in my synapses, long after the brief appointment. “Forget everything you know.”

It was at this point, my knowledge and hope drained from me like a deflated balloon concurrently rising high above my useless brain, words floated by-on a cellular level I understood-but my rational reasoning could not absorb.

After I was shooed away and dismissed- just another day at the office, I sat stunned in my hot car, looking out at the world going on around me. I realized this can be handled one of two ways. This would be my defining moment. In the movies this is when Rocky ran up the steps. I could embrace this diagnosis armed with the years of knowledge I have. Or another better option is I could lean into a healthy lifestyle, make some changes, and garner some “accountability” that I have so piously spoken of in the past.

Shamefully, I did not careen up the steps and puff out my chest with abandon triumphant in my newfound purpose. Instead, I sulked, cried, and pouted and with my final sputtering of self-induced misery-a sad attempt of lackluster rebellion I fought.  And, then- the physical pain spoke much louder than any noise of irrational nonsense and self-pity. It dawned on me. I have been provided an opportunity to help from my new platform. I could support my patients better than ever before from this new perspective. All those past encounters cultivated from love, empowerment, and compassion- offered to many similarly in my new current circumstances fatefully had boomeranged back on me- a curative gift unknowingly to myself from myself, a restorative roadmap to healing recovery. And so, it is now- the real work has begun.

It’s been one year today gone from the job that I believed made me, nurtured me, consumed me and at some point, may have almost beat me.  365 days of unsettling regret.  I went to the opposition.  I want to share what have I gleaned in all those seconds, minutes and molecules of soul eating remorse. 

• You cannot take your toolbox with you. You can take some skills and savvy know how, but you better make room for humility and humbleness to grow, relearn and potentially- very likely change your practices that may have served you well.

• It is indeed rather hard to teach an old dog new tricks. I am the vintage pooch in this scenario. How naïve of me to think, I could simply remold my brain and recondition it to operate differently than what it knows. The dismantling and deconstructing of what once was second nature played out painfully in a push-pull negotiations game of tug-of-war.

• The grass is actually not greener. In my new reality, the color hue changed from prisms of rich, robust shades of the rainbow to a monochrome palate of black and white.  The lush green utopia in my mind quickly revealed the harsh realness of unforgiving vapid earth. An aged, parched version of the grandeur I had painted in my mind.

• Maybe…. just maybe…I was wrong.  Stubborn, exhausted and dare I say “burnt out” beyond recognition led to some of the insanity-but does not excuse the behavior. Covid, insecurities, fear, and add in a volatile onset of menopause on that fiery hearth of despair created a toxic environment of simmering sorrow. A crushing chip on the shoulder that ultimately imploded into an anticlimactic departure. 

• I’m dramatic. Yes, did things happen in the way my mind experienced it? Or… did I blow it out of proportion?  Maybe my overworked hippocampus was damaged. The motherboard operating on full tilt combusted under pressure. Perhaps, a reset, control, alt delete – and presto- a reboot could have solved it all.

• Time offers forgiveness. Is that too syrupy? Too lifetime movie? Or is it possible? From my lens, I have moved on. My memory card has only saved the friendships, camaraderie and love and stripped away the darkness, anger, and shame. Like the morning fog that vanishes under the commanding strength of the sun so has the nagging negativity replaced by slivers of unfiltered iridescent hope.

So, with all those lessons uncovered-how do I make my way home? And what is home? Is “home” a moving target definition-an abstract idea that rises and retracts like the mysterious tides of the vast ocean.  Nothing ever felt more like home than my time there. It took me being away a whole year to realize this. 

I am yearning to be my truest self. My authentic being is seeking the final stop in my career destination. The place I speak of made me the nurse I am today. Through my decade and a half there-I was forced to grow, learn, discover, make mistakes, be redirected and in the end-the freedom to leave. Through this year long absence, I have grieved my former community-struggling to find my awkward footing in my new foreign world. I don’t want to keep looking back- not even one more day-in the rear-view mirror of lamentation anymore. 

On this odd-marked anniversary, I ponder my role in the departure.  I mourn my old life in many ways but honor the work I have done. By removing myself from the comforts of inertia, I have learned much. In my different environment-I have realized limitation and restraint. Saying less is genuinely more. I suppose in many ways this is why and how The Aging RN transpired. As I quiet and settle one area of my life, a welcome outlet out of necessity has emerged.    

Change is hard. I foolishly underestimated the impact it would have on me.  As I head over the hump to 1 year and 1 day, I make a promise and commitment to myself. I will honor the place I hold while I lean into what awaits me. I will be present and engaged while I seek my next opportunity- whatever that might be. I will silence the fear and the questioning and make space for openness and curiosity. 

In life, we make choices- we face the unknowing fork in the road. For now, my path in front of me is open with a vast horizon of hope. I will sit back and momentarily savor the view while I plan my next anticipated adventure. 

We all have heard about the new nurse, the novice nurse, and one of my favorites- the “green” nurse. The stories, the tales and the folk lore that make its way into “New Nurse” legends. During Covid, the starter nurse was plucked up and thrown into the harsh real world quickly. Today’s amateur nurse is much wiser than generations back, full of sage advice from their elders and a true understanding the value of self-care, empowerment, and limit setting.

I marvel at the new nurse, full of unlimited courage I never had, a voice I still largely lack, and an impeccable skill of detachment. I say this with a curiosity and a fondness that I would admire similarly to a graceful ballerina. I stand in awe that we are both humans sharing space in this world, but so profoundly different.   

The new nurse may lack the knowledge of how to obtain a manual blood pressure or know the pain of trying to decipher a physician’s handwritten orders. However, in its place the new nurse is tech savvy, a computer aficionado, and a genius of short cuts. These fierce newbies fully embrace “work smarter, not harder” motto.  Like a rocket ship careening the milky way, they have their eyes set on career development, climbing the ranks of academia while traveling the world. These new nurses embody energy, enthusiasm, and patience, not settling nor compromising.

I remember in my early days, I looked with pity at the older nurses as they shuffled by-clinging onto their med cart/ walker. Their faded white and starched uniforms complete with itchy nurse mates opaque hose made a swooshing sing song noise. If those uniforms could speak, despair is what you would hear. Oh- and yes, the cap- do not disrespect the nurse’s hat. I have fond memories of it getting entangled in traction, as my mound of hair-sprayed youthful curls challenged its integrity. Oh- my sweet young nurses, you will never know the misery.

The aging RN…. what station can I secure within this healthcare paradigm? In this hierarchy- what place do I hold? Do you look at me with the same inquisitiveness? As I try to find my standing in this new ecosystem, the same world where I once was the youngest-what value do I add? Young nurse- there are many times we are competitors gunning for the same opportunity. I always thought I had the upper hand. An alphabet full of credentials, experience, and a toolbox full of mastery savoir-faire.

What I have learned over the past couple years is “green” is gold. Seasoned equals problematic and challenging, proficient translates to expensive. Future employers, recruiters-look in your crystal ball and tell me what you see as my future? Do you want my 30 years of knowledge, or do you seek an echo chamber? I have so much to offer, so much left in my heart to help.

As I confront a crossroads in my third decade of this career-I want to know I participated in positive change, I made a difference, I made an impact. I have yet to find my purpose. I once said in an interview- “I may lack the skills, but I have the heart.” Shame on you, young Brooke. That job put all my skills to the test, tormented my soul and chucked my heart out on the curb.

So, I come back to the crux of this discussion-how do we bridge our worlds with new and aging? Where does my expertise and wealth of knowledge fit into the new modern sleek world of nursing? So much discussion on the new nurse-but very little exists on the senior nurse. Trying to remain current and relevant in a world that is rapidly changing remains to be my challenge as I negotiate my way as the aging RN.   

Est 1994…. 

Day 1 of 3 

As the late great Minnie Pearl once so eloquently said- How-dee and greetings from the rolling hills of Tennessee. Chances are if you didn’t grow up knowing Mr. Roper, that pesky short fella yelling “the plane, the plane” or memorized the lyrics to Laverne & Shirley, then you will not know the fancy jargon from Hee Haw or the famous catch phrase. But let’s move on. There is always Google, and you can catch up…

 It’s been a while and for good reason. A Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase abandoned the usual spring vacation this year in lieu of an aggressive campaign of fitness and health promotion. Well, hard work pays off and the Gods have been shining down on this girl -because the pounds have shed little by little and life is certainly looking up.

Before                                                                    Now

 Honoring the Hubs and this Girl’s 23-year union of love and the celebration of 5 years married- prompted a spontaneous domestic voyage to Nashville. For this seasoned pair-interestingly enough we have never been- and what better way to launch the renaissance of this new enriched life but a good ole country adventure.  

Leaving Florida at O’ dark thirty this diabolical duo set out for an easy 1 hour and 22-minute flight to the land of the Volunteers. 

The Nashville airport is quite unique. Trendy colorful stores and energetic bars tempt even the most focused traveler. Guitars and hokey country memorabilia lead the sojourn to baggage claim- as acoustically crooning amateurs, strum melodically inspired songs about heartbreak and a cowboy’s life.  

Our journey begins with a Tennessee native Uber driver serving as our chauffeur to the main hub of “the Gulch” http://www.explorethegulch.com – our residence for the next 3 days. His thick southern drawl and southern gentile manner was pleasing to the ears as his words dripped thick like honey. 

A quick 20 minutes later we were at our destination The Thompson http://www.thompsonhotels.com/hotels/nashville/thompson-nashville?utm_source=local&utm_campaign=gmb&utm_medium=organic. This trendy sleek architecturally sexy structure is an 18-floor boutique hotel chic in design, nestled strategically in a popular neighborhood with high price real estate restaurants and expensive stores.   

We were greeted with a “Nashvillian” friendliness that I soon became familiar with. The soothing smile and charm of the front desk attendant inquired the reason for our trip, and I informed him it is our 5-year anniversary. Well- later on – this benign comment and subtle nod would result in a surprise bottle of sparkling wine, fancy chocolate and an endearing card handwritten from the manager. This kind gesture was one of many details that separated this hotel from any other.

 Due to early arrival our room was not ready. But the charming attendant graciously stored our bags, so we were left untethered to explore the city. The hubs suffering from caffeine withdrawal was in luck as a Starbucks was adjacent to the hotel. Working millennials and Victoria Secret model types in colorful spandex fresh from barre class steadily streamed in while the hubs energy began to perk up courtesy of Starbursts dark bold. 

After adequate coffee consumption, the plan was formulated. With a speedy Uber request, another car was waiting for us curbside. Once again, a lively conversation took place enroute to The Hermitage http://thehermitage.com.

Day 1 of 3 

As the late great Minnie Pearl once so eloquently said- How-dee and greetings from the rolling hills of Tennessee. Chances are if you didn’t grow up knowing Mr. Roper, that pesky short fella yelling “the plane, the plane” or memorized the lyrics to Laverne & Shirley, then you will not know the fancy jargon from Hee- Haw or the famous catch phrase. But let’s move on. There is always Google, and you can catch up…

The Hermitage is the residence of former seventh President of the United States and General Andrew Jackson. This top-rated presidential site is a quick 20 minutes out of the city. Located on over 1,100 lush acres- it is a multi-layered informative experience. As one enters the calming plantation, unassuming deer lazily munch along the perimeter. The admission price offers the museum, which is chuck full of interesting facts, as well as a tour of the mansion and all the grounds. We were granted discounts (even though student discount specified 8-13 years old- I told you this fitness thing is really paying off for me…).  

The tour begins with a timeline of Jackson’s life. Orphaned at 13 years old, his accomplishments are nothing short of inspiring. He was a war hero and revered almost celebrity status. As he transitioned into Presidency, many of his practices that he instituted remain active and integral to the current system today. Regardless of what side of the political fence you reside, the love and admiration unanimously honored to this leader was refreshing. However, as one continues through the progression of his life, presidency and endeavors- he had his share of haters and adversaries as well.  

After touring museum, we made our way onto the grounds. The plush emerald, green lawn traversed as far as the eye could see. Dotted by cabins, workers quarters and the occasional horse drawn carriage (for an additional $11) we made our way exploring on foot. We eventually made our way to the mansion.  

Greeted by coquettish ladies in colonial garb, that frankly looked itchy and flammable- we were given strict instructions on what to do as well as what not to do, touch or disturb once in the mansion. Obviously, these rules are in place for good reason- to maintain the authenticity of the dwelling. Ironically, almost all rules were broken upon entry.  

As our group spilled out of the house, the sky opened up, black clouds released a monsoon like downpour. Hubs and your truly conveniently were perched on the covered porch for the deluge. Chomping on bootleg nuts pilfered from home, we watched the less fortunate run for cover.

As the sun dried the wet earth, we explored the grounds culminating the tour with an enchanting stroll through the garden. The flowers were in full blossom. The aromatic smells perfumed the air as bumble bees danced from bud to bud. Unfortunately, most of our experiences in gardens through the years have been less than impressive as it is commonly off season. Viewing anemic weeds struggling to envision their potential-because of this, we were even more appreciative of the rich, robust multisensory display. The Hermitage is a real “must see” if you have the time to explore outside the city. It was an entertaining afternoon well worth it.  

Fully satisfied and now Jackson experts we summoned our next Uber. On the journey back to the hotel, hot, tired and fueled only by nuts, we discussed dinner possibilities with our driver. He made a few recommendations- one of which we chose.  

Back at the hotel, we were able to access our beautiful room. The room was clean, comfortable and actually quite lovely. Ceiling to floor windows created a dramatic bird’s eye view of the hip restaurants below. Succumbing to exhaustion at this point, we allowed ourselves a brief indulgence of rest.  

From there, re-energized we walked down the 2 flights to the convenient hotel fitness center. An adequate offering of cardio machines flanked the walls. Fresh cucumber water, clean towels and tempting apples were available as well. We adapted our usual exercise regimen to our new setting allowing respite for future potential guilty pleasures later. 

After showering in the spa- like bathroom equipped with fluffy robes and heavenly towels we ventured out to Little Octopus https://www.littleoctopusnashville.com/ just steps from our hotel. If you recall this was at the recommendation of Uber driver #3 if you are keeping track. He neglected to leave out one minor detail –that the cuisine is Caribbean inspired. My palate is as refined as a toddler’s-finicky and feisty with a loathing for all things spicy.

This hipster establishment screams vegan snobbery combined with tiny plates that one feels obligated to “ooh and ahh” at. The limited menu is full of big words, but miniscule portions as they are tapa based. For me and my caloric restrictions this worked out perfect. Additionally, I am vegetarian so in theory this menu should have sufficed.  

I settled on a beet salad that was fresh, healthy with a hint of an undefinable earthiness and grit that settled in my canines. The hubs had a clam dish that prompted a hidden talent of puppetry as he played with the carcass shells serenading his wife through vantroloquist- like skills. The dish that followed still riles me up- as how does one ruin perfectly good broccolini? The chef made it so spicy that one is rendered speechless with numb lips, an inactive oral orifice and slightly traumatized with various stages of PTSD- by just the thought of red pepper flakes and pepper infused oil. No photographic evidence is available as the Hubs took advantage of my incoherent stupor and consumed the remainder of the vile vegetable. I admit I exaggerate a bit and in full disclosure-the Hubs disagrees with most of this bloated diatribe- but I stand by my keen and insightful analysis.

 After dinner, we did some harmless window shopping in stores frankly I had no business being in, displaying styles for a much younger, cooler and perhaps richer version of myself. From there, we returned back to the hotel, which was now in full throttle Friday night mating season mode. The hotel is apparently the meeting Mecca for all the “Cool Kids” these days.  

Entering on this Friday evening, the lobby is alive with action. An intimidating line coiled around the reception desk, all in an effort to get to the elevator to get to the 18^th floor to get to La Jackson http://www.lajacksonbar.com/ – the rooftop bar which was our final destination as well… 

For some odd reason, I had this silly notion La Jackson would be quiet, romantic, with just the illumination of the moon twinkling in the Hub’s luminescent blue eyes. Soft music, candles and strangely the summer childhood scent of honey blossoms in the air. Well, get this image out of your head- because it was none of this. Now, granted the magnificent views from up above of the Nashville skyline were breathtaking. But, as we shoved our way through the 20 something crowd, self-involved phone scrolling monsters stared blankly at their phones. The combination of hundreds of conversations taking place at once whirled together into an over stimulating frenzy of sound. As we hugged the side of the glass partition, which separated us from death, we took in the stillness of the evening below. And for one moment of solitude- it was just Hubs and I and 23 years of glorious memories. The gravity of the time passed and the time ahead of us laid heavily in my heart-and for that split instant-no other people were on that glorious balcony with us.

 After that, we ventured down to our room for a good night’s slumber.    

Day 2 of 3 

Taking full advantage of the extra hour earned from Central Standard Time, I arose early and busted butt at the gym. All with a secondary gain of being in line early at Biscuit Love http://biscuitlove.com/.  Yesterday, in our room, we were highly entertained lazily eyeing the crowds outside our hotel, particularly on the steady, rather ridiculous line that remained all day long outside a rather indistinct, unimpressive restaurant- Biscuit Love. Well, we just had to find out what the hubbub was…It didn’t matter that I am carb restricted, gluten free and a biscuit would be my caloric capacity for the week. I had to know the deal- even through osmosis and living vicariously through the hubs.

 So, after the gym, just as the sky turned black and rain began to pelt down, we took the long journey 50 feet away and joined the ever-growing cue. Now, just know if you go to this establishment there are rules. You must know in advance apparently what you are ordering, be prepared and don’t waste time. It is the equivalent of the famous Seinfeld soup Nazi-just replaced with Biscuits. 

After a rather short wait, we were urged to make our selection. I ordered a rather unmemorable omelet that lacked any character. Hubs had a version of eggs benedict with biscuits. Neither entrée overly excited us-which was good because the recovery phase of biscuit withdrawal cannot be pleasant. 

Evidently, the “bonuts” a hybrid somewhere between a donut and a biscuit are all the rage. I will say, for the entire 3 days, there was a steady, rambunctious line that only disappeared during closing times. 

We once again beckoned another Uber to Carl Van Vecten Gallery on the Fisk University Campus https://www.fisk.edu/services-resources/fisk-university-galleries/the-carl-van-vechten-gallery. A sprawling campus void of any activity, due to summer, early hours and rain felt a bit eerie. Some concern began to resonate as we were dropped off in a completely empty parking lot with little signs of life.  

We waited and waited and waited a bit more. Then, we started to concoct a plan B. At that precise moment an eager, short of breath gentleman came running towards us. It turns out he was flooded out of his house and he himself had to come by Uber. Apologizing profusely, he waived both entrance fees.  

We were the only ones in the museum. We leisurely perused the odd paintings consisting of most famously Georgia O’Keefe and some others from her era. All in all, there are probably 20 paintings and an exhibition in the basement. Nonetheless, we entertained ourselves and embraced having the whole place to ourselves.

 Guess what we did next? You guessed it! We requested an Uber. We were transported to the famous region Broadway.  When you think Nashville-this to me -is what it really is. Good old-fashioned grit, country music, honky-tonk. One area consists of music city, and it encapsulates entertainment of every venue. The common theme is a distinct feeling of wanting to hose oneself off after entering some of the establishments. Now, please understand –it is only 1100 AM in the morning at this point. Our first stop was the Johnny Cash Museum http://www.johnnycashmuseum.com/. We never made it past the gift shop. A little speed shopping performed; we got the gist of it but couldn’t commit to it- so we moved on. To be noted-The Patsy Cline Museum https://www.patsymuseum.com/  is on top of Johnny Cash… 

Leaving there we walked past barbeque restaurants boasting the best, most authentic and tastiest. Boot stores with penetrating hide aromatics pouring out onto the streets. The intense staccato of struggling musicians with pitiful desperation thick in every note echoed in the street. Powerful odors so offensive at times-breathing was painful permeated the humid air. This was a complete juxtaposition with the rambunctious cookie cutter bachelorette brigades with tacky sashes and hokey veils screaming in frantic euphoria. Goofy hashtag names and clone like bridal parties celebrating their final hours of independence by pedaling frenziedly 3 miles an hour through the traffic-all the while singing female empowerment songs at the top of their lungs. If nothing else, this served as incredible amusement. 

We continued to walk as the humidity hung over us like a thick blanket. Exhaustion and hunger began to settle in and anchor us down. It was at that moment we spotted Puckett’s https://puckettsgro.com/nashville/. This eatery is one of the highlights of this trip. The crowded establishment was teeming with eager patrons, very civilized anxiously waiting for a table. The smells, unlike the hideousness of Broadway were sweet, smoky, hickory and that indescribable essence of barbeque. 

Hubs had a brisket taco salad. Mine was a delicious black bean burger, unique and fulfilling in every way- which was accommodated over a small salad for me. Sadly, but wisely, the Hubs suppressed his desire for the cobbler-which he still regrets. If in Nashville- I really suggest you try to make it there. Apparently, we were lucky to get seated so quickly as its popularity is evident.

 Once again, another Uber escorted us to back to our hotel. After some rest, we prepared for the big event- The Grand Ole Opry https://www.opry.com/. Although, country music is not our forte we felt it essential to participate as this captures the true heart of Nashville. The Grand Ole Opry is situated on a massive campus with a hotel, a mall and a movie theater http://www.simon.com/mall/opry-mills. The original Grand Ole Opry was at the Ryman Theater https://www.ryman.com/. In the 1990’s it was moved. The Ryman still has performances and I regret on this trip not making it there. It is considered hallowed halls with country greats such as Elvis Presley, Hank Williams and Johnny Cash. 

The Uber dropped us off at the Opry Mall. The place was packed with eager shoppers on bargain hunts. No exception for yours truly. Some mindless browsing kept us busy momentarily. We made our way to the entrance to The Grand Ole Opry. It was a plethora of activity. A stellar octogenarian band belted out amazing tunes revving up the crowd.

 From there, we made our way to the auditorium. There truly is not a bad seat in the house. Spread out like a church with pews in a circular ring, it looped around the stage. As the curtain went up, the stage glowed indicating a live radio stage. Mics strategically placed like land mines creating an auditory symphonic delight.

 The effort of maintaining the authenticity by honoring the tradition and maintaining the same format since its radio debut in 1974 is apparent. It is separated in 4 segments with numerous varied live music acts in each part. The wizardry of the guitar playing, the octave tiers demonstrated, and the true raw talent was really unbelievable. The commonality of each performer was their gratitude for being there, the symbolism of achievement and their genuine love for their craft. My favorite was from a band which I had never heard of before The Steel Woods http://thesteelwoods.com/- who played Straw in the Wood https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJhFz9jaoM0 . All in all, the night was pretty darn incredible and an absolute must if in Nashville. 

Another Uber schlepped our butts back to The Gulch. We stopped across from our Hotel at Burger Republic http://burgerrepublic.com/the-gulch/. Some uninspiring pub fare provided lackluster nourishment as we finished the night out.

 Day 3 of 3

Sleeping in just a bit in the comfortable womblike state of cozy room was luxurious. No alarm clock, no barking dog, no obligations. It really is the ultimate pleasure extracted from a vacation. However, this lazy lull was fleeting as we promptly made our last visit to the gym. After a good workout, we packed and prepared to depart from our wonderful stay at The Thompson. 

Some Starbucks had and final preparations for our last day. We were on a mission to find the Green Line https://www.metrotransit.org/metro-green-line- which is a free bus that loops around the city. Apparently, no one and I mean NO ONE knows where this thing is, what it is, where it goes and how often. We chased this elusive green mirage over and over, continually missing it just by seconds. Exasperated and ready to give, the green vision appeared before us. Hopping on in victory, we soon learned this bus really does not go anywhere of much use. The bus driver offered us helpful information and suggestions and eventually dropping us off at Bicentennial Park.     

The park displays Tennessee’s history including a revolving globe, a World War II Memorial, a 95-Bell Carillon playing energetic Tennessean songs and abundant Fountains. On the grounds as well is a thriving farmer’s market http://nashvillefarmersmarket.org/ -which is apparently a hotspot for the constant Hop on Hop off bus.

 An Uber once again took us to our lunch of choice. We refueled quickly at PF Chang’s growing sadly aware that our Nashville extravaganza was coming to an end. We crossed the busy intersection for our final destination-Centennial Park which includes the Parthenon   http://www.nashville.gov/Parks-and-Recreation/Parthenon.aspx.

The park is situated directly across the street from the prestigious Vanderbilt College. Standing erect and center protecting its people is the Parthenon. It is a stunning re-creation of the same one from ancient Greece. It stands boldly as the centerpiece of Centennial Park. Inside the structure is a museum as well, which unfortunately time constraints did not allow for the viewing of these treasures.

We circled the structure and made our way on a path that snaked around the park. Trees shaded us as the sun smoldered in the sun heat. We made our way around a serene lake. We ended our walk in a sunken garden. Colorful flowers in bloom showed off their petals in a hue of flamboyant pride.  

Our final Uber ride delivered us to the hotel to retrieve our bags and head to the airport for our departure back home. Nashville was a true surprise. Having heard of its growing popularity over the years, I naively thought one needs to be a country music fan to appreciate. Many years ago, I dismissed its place in the world of culture, art, food and “my kind of entertainment”. Well, I now know how misguided I was.

Nashville is a renaissance town. It offers it all. Family friendly, raunchy drunk debauchery bachelorette “Nash-vegas” style hijinks, world class music, divvy bars, barbeque for days…Not to mention the versatility and diversity of Tennessee itself. With its origins deep in valor and President Andrew Jackson settling his roots close by it has always been a symbol for an altruistic spirit born in the concept of honor, pride and sacrifice in the form of volunteerism. As my plane embarked for the journey back home, and I viewed the Nashville skyline as the pink summer sun set, I had sadness in my heart of saying goodbye to Nashville. The people have a Southern calmness with a country western spirit. They are salt of the earth, good old fashioned values in a not too fancy way. You may wonder how I have this analysis in my short time…In every single one of those 13 Uber rides, a commonality existed-they were all local and native Nash-villians. Each Uber driver shared a piece of their life with us. They gave us advice, recommendations, and for just a brief moment in time-made us feel we were the only ones that mattered. They asked questions, listened and showed genuine interest. Most importantly, they represented their city with pride, love and loyalty. Thank you, Nashville, for a memorable 5-year anniversary- you have set the bar high!

Nashville TOP 5:

(5) The Thompson- amazing Hotel & The Gulch

(4) The Hermitage

(3) Puckett’s Lunch- Yum…

(2) Uber

(1) Grand Ole Opry

We will reunite at the end of September when The Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase travel to Copenhagen and Hamburg, Germany. And stay tuned for March 2018-hint: African Safari!

Love & Nashvillian sweet dreams,

~B&F~

EDELLSESCIPADES.COM-A GIRL, HER HUBS AND A SUITCASE

TOP 10:

10.Downtown Custer, South Dakota-Baker’s Bakery

9. Sheridan Wyoming-The Historic Sheridan Inn

8.Whitefish Trail, Whitefish, Montana-Hike 

7.Two Medicine East Glacier, Montana-Hike

6.Fairy Falls Hike/Old Faithful/Grand Canyon of Yellowstone

5.Moss Mansion-Billings, Montana

4.Black Hills, South Dakota

3.Great Falls, Montana-Guitar Adventure

2.Sunday Gulch Trail-Custer, South Dakota-Hike

1.The Road to the Sun-West Glacier National Park, Montana

Day 1-CUSTER, SOUTH DAKOTA

It’s Fall… it’s 2021… and it’s been 18 months since we last connected in this format. But I greet you with hope and promise that life is returning slowly. Hubs and I decided to travel closer to home embracing our USA patriotism. Starting off in South Dakota in the heart of our beautiful country and eventually moving out West to Yellowstone and ending in Glacier National Park.

Our story begins on a miserable stormy September morning on the heels of Hurricane Ida from Tampa, Florida-our home base. Thrilled to leave swamp like humidity on a gloomy Thursday and the notion of escaping the hamster wheel of COVID hospital hell has provided me a small offering of a much-needed respite. Soon enough I will be back on the masked medical pandemic merry go round so this break I am certain will nurture my soul with much needed energy, strength and purpose.

On a fully packed airplane, we departed from Tampa, Florida to our halfway point of Denver, Colorado. After a 3-hour layover full of fun purchases and vacation euphoria we continued our short journey to Rapid City, South Dakota.

WE ARE ON OUR WAY

The Rapid City airport was one of the easiest and most manageable airports I have ever frequented. Luggage retrieved within minutes, rental car premises literally steps from baggage claim and before we knew it we were outside in the cool South Dakota air. A gentle breeze and zero humidity awakened a keen sense of renewal. As we drove off in our sensible non-flashy Toyota rental car, we embraced the challenge of creating new memories and for Hubs- later on reliving old ones.

It was a pleasant short drive on a near empty highway as we drove along the rolling hills and slanted boulder slabs while the salmon-colored sky began to fade. The lulling rhythm of the motor and tranquil stilled silence was abruptly halted by a surprise appearance by a beastly intensely focused buffalo munching on grass curbside. The appealing commute eventually delivered us directly to our refuge for the next 3 days-Calamity Peak Lodge Home (calamitypeaklodge.com) -a 10 cabin cozy dwelling tucked in an ideal setting nestled in the solitude of the woods.

Owners Joe and his wife are two of the most accommodating individuals I have met on my travels to date. They both live on the premises-Joe a gravel truck driver and his wife a respiratory therapist at the VA, dedicate their time when they are not working to making Calamity Peak Lodge a home away from home. A bargain of a price makes everything about Calamity Peak Lodge is a traveler’s dream. Joe provided us with maps, brochures and amazing recommendations that were all used. Perched up above numerous wobbly slate steps, we lugged our impractical rolling suitcases (hence the name of this blog) up to our abode for the next 72 hours.  

We were hungry and ready to explore the city of Custer, South Dakota. Joe suggested Pounding Fathers Brewery– Mt Rushmore Brewing Company – Custer, South Dakota -located in Custer’s adorable downtown. Pounding Fathers is a two-story brewery and eatery showcasing South Dakota specialties. Under the luminescent sky, we dined outside-Hubs nursing his beer with a local Wallaby Salmon cooked in parchment paper. I would soon learn in Elk/Buffalo country vegetarian fare is challenging. But, here at Pounding Fathers I was provided a delicious veggie burger on lettuce buns. This healthy focus would diminish as the days went on replaced by high carb portable snacks for quick easy convenience.

We ventured back to Calamity Peak Lodge as the night air turned cold. The dark cabin, chilly drop in temperature and well-fed bellies of good food rendered a perfect backdrop for a blissful night’s slumber.

Day 2 Custer, South Dakota

We awoke to darkened skies and heavy rain pounding obtrusively on the roof above. Disappointment and expectation adjustment forced me to refocus. In the scheme of things, this was a small obstacle and ultimately worked in our favor reducing crowds on this Labor Day Holiday weekend.

Again, at the incredible advice of Joe and his wife, they provided yet another fabulous meal suggestion-Baker’s Bakery Cafe Bakers Bakery Cafe – You are gonna love our buns!-located in downtown Custer, close to last night’s Pounding Fathers. A kitschy, long-legged lady with politically incorrect cinnamon buns strategically stationed on her derriere region is the mascot for this divine eatery. Known for its sweets and hometown comforts it did not disappoint. A diner-escue environment greets one with a very downhome local feel to it. Lauren greeted us with friendly enthusiasm, and it was soon determined that this spunky spitfire was running the whole place-quite efficiently I may add. I had a hearty and delicious Acai bowl, sweet, fresh and satisfying. Hubs had an abundant omelet that would keep him content for hours.    

From there, we made our way to Mount Rushmore Mount Rushmore National Memorial (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) which was very close in proximity. The seemingly empty highways penetrated the tire wheels oddly reverberating sounds akin to Indian chanting that echoed through our silent vehicle. The Black Hills, an extension of the Rocky Mountains, occupy the southern half of the state and extend into Wyoming. The geologic history dates back almost 2 billion years ago originating from a cataclysmic collision of volcanic activity and titanic plates. The result is a beautiful, striated mosaic of tilted, twisted, slanted and folded granite, limestone and other unpronounceable stone elements forming an outer galactic display of natural riveting beauty. In various light and angles, the geologic mystery becomes even more elusive creating deceptive trickery of the eye by portraying images on the imposing boulders.

The melancholy sky began to clear as we approached the grandeur of Mount Rushmore. Hovering at over 5,700 feet with the backdrop of the Black Hills Black Hills National Forest – Home (usda.gov) near Keystone, South Dakota holds the most patriotic images of Presidents George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. Each President representing the country’s birth, growth and preservation. There was a minimal parking fee to a garage that brings you straight to the park. A colonnade of welcoming flags wave in greeting as one progresses down the wide arcade as all the Presidents are visible. The park’s passage twists, turns and rises in elevation as the Presidents facades become viewable. Plush greenery and scaling granite monopolize the visual field. A wide range of every demographic was represented with a strong focus on family unity and an overwhelming feeling of honor and pride was evident. There is a museum down a winding stairwell that we missed that tells the stories of the brave men that helped bring this vision to life. We spent an hour in entirety there and I was fully captivated with this bucket list event.

From there, just a short distance away is the Crazy Horse Memorial Home of the Crazy Horse Memorial: Crazy Horse Memorial– it is an ongoing incomplete mountain monument in the Black Hills. It honors the Lakota warrior-Crazy Horse, riding a horse and pointing to his tribal land. Initially sculpted by Korczak Ziolkowski it continues to be a work in progress with the legacy continued by his family.

The carving is 563 feet high and is erected on sacred Lakota land. Entry was a bit pricey-$30 for the two of us. It is not part of the Federal or State parks therefore, our pass could not be utilized. We entered the visitor center and made our way through the museum that displayed artifacts under the watchful eyes of buffalo heads affixed to the wall. A colorful teepee is a vibrant focal point in the open space. We watched an informative video on the making of Crazy Horse that lent insight on the daunting task. Caught up in the moment, we purchased an absurd leather cowboy hat for Hubs and a traditional dream catcher. The high-priced entry and expensive souvenirs were overly indulgent and a skosh regretful.

From there, we made our way to downtown Custer. Adorable brown western style store fronts displaying tourist bric-a-brac percolate my blood and feed my soul. I am a sucker for useless baubles, dust collectors and worthless novelties. We meandered from store to store with friendly clerks who referred to us as “sweetie and honey pie” offering us samples of tasty fudge.

We made our way to Calamity Jane Coffee Shop Home (calamityjanecoffeeshop.com) a friendly and inviting neighborhood coffee house. The barista we would come to us know well over the next several days. She provided helpful hiking advice and a hand drawn map.

Our cabin had a kitchenette and we wanted to make good use of it. We stopped by the local market-Lynn’s Dakotamart Lynns Dakotamart Grocery picking up meal essentials for an outdoor picnic. We dined at the outdoor table under the midday sun, Hubs noshing on questionable fried chicken, crackers and cheese for our alfresco dining.

After lunch, I decided to take a run. The lodge holds prime real estate situated conveniently right on the George Mickelson Trail–George S. Mickelson Trail | South Dakota Game, Fish, and Parks (sd.gov). It is 109-miles in the heart of the Black Hills. As I eagerly started my run, the weather could not have been more ideal. The sun was setting, the temperature began to drop into a cooling autumn chill and as I ascended the steep gradient, dubious deer eyed me suspiciously from just a few feet away. My motivation quickly evaporated like the dewy sweat on my forehead. My Floridian bones are not used to or equipped to tackle a 4 % slope and elevation a mile high-to prove this point my legs simply decelerated down to a slow stroll.

I persevered to a steady stride providing myself forgiveness and a pass this time. I noted on the path there was the Gordon Stockade–The Gordon Stockade | Black Hills & Badlands – South Dakota (blackhillsbadlands.com)-this log fortress replica represents the shelter that served as protection from Lakota attacks during the 1874 gold rush.

I returned to the lodge with a newfound confidence due to my exploratory skills. As I excitingly shared with Hubs my 2-mile conquest Hubs suggested we re-investigate together the area.

We returned to George Mickelson Trail pacing ourselves. The deer posse were still stationed inquisitively at the same point. We re-circled my previous route, viewed the stockade, and then as the sun was setting a creamy cotton candy pink sky, we made our way around the stunning Stockade Lake Trail–Stockade Lake Trail – South Dakota | AllTrails.  

We walked the 1.4-mile loop with ease. A family passed us all on bikes as the youngest child with training wheels struggled up the precipitous pitch. Her cuteness was infectious as she pleaded for a push. I playfully and gently thrust the back of her bike-giving her a helpful heave ho that got her going.

The people of this area have been so welcoming, kind, friendly, down to earth and demonstrate a real effort of caring. They are chatty and intrigued and after months of COVID solitude, isolation and forced seclusion-the interaction and approachability was readily accepted and openly reciprocated. Ending the day with a total of 6 miles earned through all the day’s events we nodded off quickly.

Day 3 Custer, South Dakota

I awoke early as my body clock remained on eastern standard time which in one regard was making us very efficient however we then would fade out quickly in the early evening hours.

I set out in the opposite direction this chilly am hoping the hills would be less difficult than the day before. Initially it was flat, and I ran with intent and fervor as the Florida humidity this summer has put a strain on my running. But, quickly the gravel footing underneath me sloped dramatically once again causing my calves to burn, my lungs could not keep up with the unfamiliar altitude and I immediately had to transition to the shuffle of shame as running with these variables were essentially impossible for me. I managed to achieve 2-miles- a feeble effort nonetheless…

Hubs and I returned to downtown Custer to Calamity Jane’s for coffee. We were greeted by the same friendly team and made small conversations with the locals around us. We sauntered around the small downtown, some minor window shopping and headed into Dakota Territory Trading Post Dakota Territory Trading Post – 18 N 5th St, Custer SD 57730 – Loc8NearMe. This fine store is a treasure trove of knickknackery, bibs and bobs and odds and ends. Basically, nothing you need and everything you want for double the price. I wanted desperately to capture the heart and soul of South Dakota and honestly, I feel in my selections I did just that. We selected a native American Indian horn that is used in ceremonies as a symbol for independence.

We had been quite receptive and lucky to receive recommendations. Both the barista at Calamity Jane’s and Joe from the lodge suggested Sylvan Lake and Sunday Gulch Trail Sylvan Lake | Black Hills & Badlands – South Dakota (blackhillsbadlands.com) Sunday Gulch Trail – South Dakota | AllTrails. Armed with only one bottle of water, a few snacks and fancy expensive (grateful to have) trail shoes we embarked on our challenging activity that would test our strength, resolve and determination.

Sylvan Lake is in Custer State Park Custer State Park | South Dakota Game, Fish, and Parks (sd.gov) within the Black Hills National Forest Black Hills National Forest – Home (usda.gov). The lake itself is a frenzy of activity-paddleboarders, hikers, dogs, kids, picture takers, wedding backdrops, cars coming and going and motorcyclists everywhere. Their thunderous engines and gruffy sputtering act as soundtrack echoed throughout the entire area.   

The crunchy gravel descends directly to the Sunday Gulch Trail Sunday Gulch Trail – South Dakota | AllTrails. The sign indicated a level of easy to moderate measuring 3.9 miles and should take 2-3 hours. For us, it was very challenging, it took 3 hours and measured 6 miles. The starting elevation was 6,067 feet, the highest point is 6,226 feet with an elevation gain of 830 feet.

One slowly makes their way down the granite and limestone steps with a convenient handrail providing support down the vertical descent. Mossy slippery stone steps lead the way, surrounded and shaded by monolithic mountains, boulders and scaling evergreens. Nosey squirrels darted their curious eager selves mischievously playing hide and seek.

An hour in and Hubs and I were going strong. The trees canopied over us providing a shield of protective shade from the glowing midday sun. Other hikers passed us, stopping to chat and offer friendly support. I have never observed Hubs so social and chatty. I did not think I could love my big lug more than I already have 25+ years and counting! But the alpine air and cool weather has had a delightful impact on him. Hubs was in his element and shining he was. Spry and agile this newly retired mate of mine-he was holding up better than me on what was now becoming a very physical quest. We reached the halfway turn around point and as the saying goes “What comes up must come down.” Or in our case, it was time to start climbing (UP).

It started off moderately manageable. However, quickly the environment and surroundings began to change dramatically. The rocks and slabs used as steps and leverage began to space out further and farther. This required us to lunge our bodies in a rather theatrical way leap frogging from stone to stone. Then came the roots. Big, thick knotty ones, hidden and poking out in the precise place that would catapult us like a sling shot. The constant attention to foot placement, avoiding injury, strategically thinking ahead like a game of chess began to zap our energy and drain our reserves.

As we approached our final mile, a couple in flip flops and several toddlers passed us on the slender escarpment teetering we hugged a tree precariously to make room. We reached a critical point where I feared a helicopter would need to perform a reconnaissance mission rescuing us-Mountain 1-Hubs&A Girl-Zero. It was at this pivotal point that I sidestepped my pride and began to slide breech style-rump side down the jagged awkward rock. This mortifying act ultimately hastened the conclusion resulting in a total success.

As we emerged out back to Sylvan Lake-the world felt light and innocent again. Dogs were wagging their tales, children were playing, families taking photographs capturing a utopian world.  

We limped our drained, dehydrated bodies back to the car. We replenished with indulgent ice cream sandwiches and cold water rehashing our achievement. As we exited the park, we viewed the cathedral spires Cathedral Spires, South Dakota – AllTrips (allblackhills.com). The finger-like spindle granite towers reach close to 7,000 feet. A cluster of cars monopolized the street, chaotic picture taking from frantic tourists attempting to capture the perfect photo. The truth is-these colossal and celestial figures of mother nature are difficult to isolate. To bring to life the magnificence and magic of the Black Hills, one must truly embody it, the tangible nature of it, the rhythmic crunching of the pebbles, the earthy aroma of the pines, the operatic arias of the birds, the sticky, gummy sap on the trees, the pain, the irritating blisters, the feeling of accomplishment when it is over. To just drive up, snap a few photos and feel you have truly captured the authentic essence and depth of the Black Hills of South Dakota-I would argue you’ve completely missed the mark on this one.  

We came back to Calamity Peak Lodge smelly, exhausted and sore. In true pathetic fashion, melted cheese was consumed by yours truly for dinner and Hubs dined on cheerios. We watched morbid murder mysteries and as Hubs dozed off, he yelped in agony overtaken by a debilitating Charlie horse. As I rubbed his pulsating calf, soothing his tenuous extremity, we agreed in spite of the pain, aching and Charlie horse PTSD-it was 100% worth it.

Day 4 Custer, South Dakota-Sheridan, Wyoming

On this day, sadly we would say goodbye to Calamity Peak Lodge and Custer. The time spent in South Dakota was a welcoming calm in my soul. The Black Hills Black Hills & Badlands – South Dakota | The Home of Mount Rushmore (blackhillsbadlands.com)are sacred to the Native American Indians, and I now understand why. I am convinced there are healing properties within the mystical caves, rolling hills and thick forest. My head felt clear, my soul rested and rejuvenated. Joe and his wife from Calamity Peak Lodge offer apleasant sanctuary. The small establishment provides a personal touch and we left feeling like we now had extended family in South Dakota.

We headed out to downtown Custer one final time for coffee at Calamity Jane and a hopeful Acai bowl at Baker’s Bakery. Getting a late start and it being Labor Day weekend, the quiet downtown became an intimidating, messy mass of bikers, tourists, and crowds. There was a staggering line outside the bouncy buns of Baker’s Bakery. Calamity Jane was a calamity of chaos. People straggled outdoor fronts, spilling out onto the wide sidewalks. Criss crossing, jay walking mayhem overtook the once unassuming downtown. We were grateful to have partaken in such an inviting version of downtown Custer and understood its apparent popularity. With Calamity Jane coffee in hand, gratitude in our heart and renewed spirit-we continued our expedition.

As we drove through South Dakota before approaching Wyoming, the scenery began to change, barren sloping mountain ridges flanked the highway. Slender, long tendrils of lumber strewn throughout detached from its roots carpeted the otherwise unfertile land. There were few signs of life, almost no cars on the thoroughfare and an eerie unworldly existence was pervasive.

We drove into northeastern Wyoming to Devil’s Tower Devils Tower | National Geographic Society. This unique 867-foot rock formation is composed from phonolite porphyry and formed 65 million years ago. It is believed that it was formed from the same forces that created the Rocky Mountains. It gathered its unique shape from molten lava. Erosion from the elements continue to impact the shape of it.

If you have ever seen Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind  Devil’s Tower in Close Encounters of the Third Kind – Bing video this rock formation will appear familiar. For 2-hours we literally drove into nothingness void of life with yellowing vast fields and grey mountain ranges, not a gas station, rest stop or even a pull off to note for many, many miles until this curious oddity emerged out of nowhere. Additionally, cars, tourists, flocks of campers, tour buses and bikers monopolized the parking lots, so much so- a park ranger approached us to alert us that entry had temporarily ceased. Hubs and I went back and forth whether to move on. We took a small walk to a field that warned of rattle snakes and feisty prairie dogs. These annoying little rodents popped out of holes in childlike peekaboo fashion. The sign warned that they are not friendly and to not engage.

We contemplated abandoning this activity. As we pondered, we were approached by a lovely couple, one of many twosomes that we would grow to appreciate. The retired duo adorned in matching outfits shared with us their RV travels. They were well seasoned park frequenters. They provided us with a bevy of tidbits that would stay with us the remainder of the time. Armed with insider tips and in agreement, we approached the entry and to our surprise and glee-the ranger was gone and we re-attempted access. 2 miles of twists and turns led us to the Devil’s Tower.

With heads craned up and elongated necks hyper pronated we made our way through the corkscrew pavement that looped around the tower. Daring men with lengthy ropes dangled and repelled in audacious pageantry. After fully absorbing the bizarre attraction, we left for our next destination for the evening.

We drove for what seemed like hours through completely remote, uninhabitable terrain. Eventually hunger took over and as soon as we entered some form of civilization, we stopped at the first place. In hindsight, I do wish we would have held out. We dined at Pokey’s Barbeque in Gillette, Wyoming Home (pokeysbbq.com). Surrounded by dead animals and carcasses on the walls a suspicious salad bar displayed questionable items. Unwilling to partake in a salad bar during this pandemic time-my options in a “meat house” were limited. Hubs had wallaby salmon. I had a partially cooked baked potato and a mound of coleslaw. This meal was unmemorable and had I not taken these notes it would not even be mentioned, so let’s move on.

We drove another 2-hours as I dozed on and off. We made it by dusk to The Historic Sheridan Inn Sheridan Inn Hotel | Hotels in Sheridan WY 82801 | 307-674-2178. The sole purpose for this stop was purely to break up distance. However, what a treat this hotel was. The Sheridan Inn established in 1893, has significant historical importance for our nation. “Buffalo Bill” Cody, co-owned the establishment with the railroad and entertained the guests with his touring company performing the “Wild West” show from the front porch.

Each of the twenty-two rooms are named after the key characters from his life. We stayed in The Death Valley Scotty Room- Room 303. The room was newly renovated with modern Western American décor. The bathroom is out of an interior decorators dream with black and white subway tile and an exquisite bear claw porcelain tub.

The TV-less room (going for an authentic 1900’s feel) had a view of the railroad and many times throughout the evening and early morning, the comforting energy vibration of the train pulsed in a soothing cadence. After we checked in, I soaked in the lavish tub, bubbles up to my chin, calming my sore muscles from yesterday’s events.

From the suggestion of the gentleman at the front desk, we meandered the one block to Wyoming Rib and Chop House Steaks, Seafood, and BBQ Ribs Restaurant | Rib and Chop House. The place was packed with football games displayed on all TV’s. Cowboy hat wearing millennials chowed on steak and beer and all around me this felt quintessential Americana. This meal was my first real meal in days as we had been grazing and snacking on non-perishable junk food. The meal was a bit pricey and for the most part so far everything has been inflated. With tummies fed and hearts content, we slept well

Day 5 Sheridan, Wyoming-Gardiner, Montana

The bright sun streamed in through the 100-year-old windows. As I gazed out at the morning sky, the sun had an iridescent pink aura haloed around it. In full daylight, the setting of this idyllic downtown was now coming into focus. We made our way to the dining room for our complimentary breakfast that was included. After several days of packaged protein shakes from home-this added nicety was certainly appreciated.

As we ate breakfast and gazed out the window, we detected a hot air balloon rising. We swayed on rocking chairs as we soaked in this scene. This day happened to be Labor Day. From our view, the proud American flag flapped in the wind and off in the periphery the hot air balloon hovered above. As the cool morning air combined with the hot sun, I tried to snapshot this for my heart to always remember. It is times like this, when the world slows down and like the clouds that were passing by so was this memory in the making. I tried to memorize every detail and place in my reserve so in the future I will be able to resurrect this moment.

We left Sheridan and made our way to The Battle of Little Bighorn Story of the Battle – Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) which was fought along the Little Bighorn River in south-central Montana on June 25-26, 1876, between the Lakota Sioux, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho tribes vs the 7^th Regiment of the US Cavalry. This fight symbolized the constant conflict that persisted with bloody and deadly implications for decades.

Ultimately, Custer and his military were decimated and a momentary victory for the Lakota and Cheyenne tribes was had. The battle site expands over steep bluffs and ravines encompassing a wide area. The grounds hold simple white identified gravestone markers for all the dead soldiers including Custer where each man lost their life. There is a walking or auto tour option available. We ambled a short distance (we were warned of potential rattle snakes) and then took the easier rout in the car. Additionally, there is a gift shop and a museum. Our entry was free with the Federal Park Pass, otherwise it costs $25 per car. On an interesting side note, Hubs and I brought along an audio book Killing Crazy Horse by Bill O’Reilly  ‘Killing Crazy Horse’ – A Wild Ride Through the American Frontier – YouTube. This audio book has kept us entertained and invested. The captivating nonfiction story depicts the complex struggles of native American Indians and settlers from 1830-1880. It has been an incredible foundation for our time here serving as a real educational opportunity in this fascinating and devastating time in our country’s history.

From there, we drove to the capitol- Billings, Montana. We made our way to the beautiful dwelling of the Moss Mansion  Moss Mansion | Historic House Museum-built in 1903 for the family home of Preston Boyd Moss his wife and children. There were many unique architectural details and although styled in art nouveau with modern influences at the time as well as a stunning garden, the home has a lived-in quality with a big emphasis on family. I received a student discount (student age:8-16 years old) that Oil of Olay is sure working wonders on me, honey! We both enjoyed the activity and only offer one critique for any future visitors. The two staff members that worked there could be heard throughout the spacious mansion. They were having a cacophonous discussion, quite loud with obscene cackling and guffawing. This banter echoed against the ancient walls. There was odd soulful coffeehouse jazz playing on a far-ranging speaker that did not fit the time era at all and was irritatingly distracting.  As I leisurely roamed from room to room-it was impossible to remain focused while these two ladies continued their irksome tête-à-tête. Upon our departure, I felt compelled to share my findings with the only other staff member there. The feedback was received well and in spite of the inappropriate noise level we genuinely enjoyed our time at Moss Mansion.

We scavenged for food with some difficulty as again this was a major holiday, and we were in downtown Billings. Frustratingly, each place we tried was closed. However, eventually we landed at Bernie’s Diner Dining – The Northern Hotel located in the posh Northern Hotel-hence the only reason it was open.On a side note, in merely an observational context-we have noticed with some sadness and understanding all throughout our travels a complete deterioration in service. Places are short staffed, employees that are present are overworked, appear annoyed, fatigued, irritated and vacant. The service/hospitality industry has been impacted by the mass exodus in the work force. It was disappointing to see this overall sense of apathy and despair. At Bernie’s it appeared the case as well. It did seem the staff there tried to make a friendly attempt, but the underlying sense of gloom was palpable. In each of these events, I have made it an effort to increase the tip and express recognition for those that do show up. We consumed typical diner fare; anxious to get back on the road.

We arrive in Gardiner, Montana Home (visitgardinermt.com) just a mile from the Yellowstone National Park North Gate, we were staying in a home from VRBO/Expedia-a gem of a find advertised as “all the comforts of home” All the Comforts Of Home Surrounded By The Rocky Mtns. & Yellowstone Park in Gardiner, MT | Expedia– and it certainly lived up to its name. I have stayed in Airbnb’s before and have never been truly impressed. But the owner “Momma Terry” as she called herself provided literally everything you could think of. Out of the confines of your own home, you don’t realize all the items that are taken for granted. The residence was stacked with essentials from utensils to toiletries, a fully stocked cabinet and an ample supply of linens. A washer and dryer-a real luxury when traveling was lifesaving.

We stopped at the local market and stocked up for the next several days. This was wise as Gardiner is a tiny town with only a handful of restaurants-each one with staggering long line. We arrived late Labor Day as activity and crowds hit a crescendo. People were extracting the last molecules of summer absorbing the final hours of daylight. Later we would learn, the day after Labor Day horseback riding ceases, opening hours change, restaurants and stores board up until Summer. So, although coming on the “shoulder” season is nice for crowds and weather, be aware you may miss the window to do many things.

The sleeping arrangement was slightly weird but oddly worked out surprisingly well. The bed was a little too small for us and what we were used to. But a hide-a-bed was provided. I set up camp on the floor adjacent to Hubs, I created a fort like environment and slept unexpectedly remarkably well the whole time. At some point, early on I realized I could have joined Hubs at “the adult table” but my fortress was fine and suited my needs well.

Day 6 Gardiner, Montana-Yellowstone Park

Waking up on this morning, it was in the 40’s. I had planned on running, but as I peeked out the blinds in the early dawn, an Elk glared back at me from a very close proximity. “Momma Terry” had warned me about the feisty Elks and what to do if they approach. However, I couldn’t remember do I drop and roll? Do I fight back? Do I play dead, run backwards, walk sideways?? I couldn’t remember. So, I played it safe doing a Peloton cardio workout- which ended up probably more dangerous as I backed up into the coffee table during a sexy shimmy dance number.  

The house is located on the main road, close to the few limited restaurants, market and stores. The Yellowstone River is right up the road, a walking bridge hangs tenaciously over the roaring torrents of turbulent water. Elk prance gingerly through the town, tourists acting like desperate paparazzi seeking the perfect photo op.

We headed out for the day, passing through the gate and into the park. Interestingly, Gardiner has a tiny population (approx. 1,000) and is in Montana. However, as soon as we entered the Yellowstone gate we were in Wyoming. Only several miles separate the two states-walking distance for us.

Magnificent slabs of mountain shadowed over the steady streams of tourist automobiles, RV’s, tour buses and motorcycles all full of eager visitors. We eventually made our way to Mammoth Springs Mammoth Hot Springs and the North – Yellowstone National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov). Mammoth Hot Springs is one of Yellowstone Park’s most popular sites and a main attraction. Known for its peculiar formations of white limestone unique to this area-it is caused by deep volcanic forces below the surface that fuel the thermal areas. A prism of rainbow hued steam over the limestone creates an outer worldly visual. This is caused by seismic shifts that generate heated water beneath the surface and when limestone and carbon dioxide combine it solidifies on surface. You did not know you would be getting a science lesson-did you?

We moseyed on sturdy boardwalks that zigzagged is an escalated manner. AARP card carrying couples in matching attire with very expensive photo gear raced along the wooden planks as their RV’s waited patiently for them. Every few steps, I would stop, take a picture, each one more fascinating than the next. The boardwalks rose to terraces where a 360-degree view provided a panoramic bird-eye scene. As we clomped liked Clydesdales along the wooden planks in our $150 pristine Merrell hiking boots at the mysterious landscape, all my senses took in the smoky haze and indistinct sulfur odor, as orange rust colored run off tentacles displayed like a Rorschach test on the ancient rock.

We left there joining the caravan of cars eventually locked into bumper-to-bumper dead stop traffic, due to road work. We would go through this construction zone numerous times over the next several days. Much time was lost to lines, traffic, waiting and antiquated traffic patterns with only a stop sign for half a million cars passing through. We pulled over at Grizzly Lake Trail Grizzly Lake Trail – Wyoming | AllTrails an 8-mile roundtrip hike that has easy on and off access from the main road. Colorful abundant wildflowers pervaded the open unshaded field. Other young couples passed us; one couple fled back fearing the sighting of a bear (hence the name). Armed with a whistle and a compass, we preceded. In the end, it was a crane-not a Grizzly. As I looked up to assess the difficulty and remainder, I realized it is a straight shot directly up the mountain. As we eyed with envy the fit couple we said, “How did they get there so fast?” I am certain, they looked down and said, “How are they moving so slow?” Burnt trees from past fires served as cautionary reminders of the dangers of high fire risk (which was actively in affect).  Alas-we never made it to the lake. It was mid-day the sun was potent, and our energy was waning and ultimately hunger took over.

We returned to our home away from home and I made Hubs a delicious lunch, better and cheaper than any restaurant (and no wait may I add….) After we ate, I made an impromptu FaceTime call to Hubs best Friend Greg. These two after high school graduation went on a cross country trek. For decades, I have heard of Hubs and Greg’s Yellowstone conquests-their 1-month-long cross-country extravaganza. I watched and listened with love as they both transcended back in time extracting memories from long ago and reliving precious moments.

We decided to explore downtown Gardiner. As the sun was setting, we experimented with foul tasting pumpkin ice cream, while listening to live music. We made our way to Roosevelt Arch The Roosevelt Arch at Yellowstone’s North Entrance (yellowstonepark.com) sat on rocking chairs as we looked out at the near empty park. Finally, at last no crowds, no lines, no waiting. Just Hubs and I rocking at sunset at Yellowstone National Park-it does not get better than this. We sat and rocked in silent gratitude as the sun disappeared behind the mountain range.

Day 7 Gardiner, Montana-Yellowstone Park

Feeling rested and raring to go-we set off for The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov). The park ranger directed us wrong to a road that was closed. Car after car like us were forced to turn around and redirect. Hubs saw an entrance for a one-way road that looked rustically rural to travel down. Unable to go more than 7 miles an hour on a gravel jostling road added an additional 45 minutes to our agenda. As the car swayed side to side in a hypnotic lullaby, my eyes fought to stay open. Traffic ensued for what felt like forever, due to a tiny fox in a field that people had sprung out of the vehicle to capture a picture. With a continuous parade of traffic, we made our way slowly to The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. We fought once again for parking; this would be the theme throughout our time here.

We worked our way towards an overlook that hovered over the dramatic waterfall. We used our binoculars getting a magnified up-close viewing. We descended a steep decline to get as close to the waterfall as possible. The thunderous roar and white capped liquid cascade created a more theatrical presentation from above. Pregnant woman, disabled individuals, mothers with harnessed children, all passed us on the extreme incline as we worked hard on the ascension back up.

We were stuck in long periods of traffic the ride back to “all the comforts of home”. We dined on leftovers and dozed off early.

Day 8 Gardiner, Montana-Yellowstone Park

On our last full day in Yellowstone, I woke up early and ran 2 miles in downtown Gardiner. I ran over the bridge, to the Yellowstone North Gate. I took selfies as the sun rose. 2 Elk pranced down the street stopping traffic. The town was still sleeping, all was quiet. The air was cool and very comfortable. The run left me feeling revived and ready to fully immerse myself into the remaining hours at Yellowstone.

We plodded on the noisy gravel walkway to Fairy Falls Fairy Falls Trail (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov). Close to a 6 mile walk that took 3 hours to complete with peak elevation at 7,354 feet. We wandered to an overlook of the thermal springs. I noticed in amusement that many couples look alike. They dress identical, wear matching attire and even walk in similar gait. In my mind, I chuckled comparing it to Noah’s Ark as the visitors promenaded in pairs 2×2.

We made our way to an overlook where we had a commanding view of the thermal springs. Water beneath the earth’s interiors generate geothermal heat to form hot springs. We continued on the dusty pebbles as our exhausted calves cramped up. We pulled to the side and struck up an engaging conversation with Loren and Jeannine Candor from Iowa. This discussion would prove to be very fruitful. The Candors provided incredible advice, tips and suggestions that we would use later. So, if you are reading this Loren and Jeannine-thank you for your great recommendations and we hope one day our paths (literally) reconnect.

The day was going quickly, and we had one final site we had to check off our list. Hubs had been to Yellowstone as mentioned earlier decades ago as a college student. His memory of Old Faithful Old Faithful – Yellowstone National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) had remained with him all these years later. He had shared his vivid recollections with me numerous times over the years-so to be able to be part of this new memory was very meaningful.

We made our way to the viewing area-long benches lay perpendicular all along the circumference of the Geyser. The Geyser was currently emitting a white barely visible plume of white vapor. There is a schedule for Old Faithful earning the name from its accurate predictability erupting its grand display approximately every hour.

A few minutes earlier than scheduled Old Faithful gurgled, bubbled and sputtered a white, vertical spouting erratic column of opaque steam. The presentation was very ceremonial and theatrical as all eyes remained on the natural phenomenon. The spectacle lasted about 10 minutes. The orbit of the spray peaked and then slowly, gradually lessened eventually coming to an end. Immediately, the audience rose and quickly thinned out as a new crop of eager beavers marched on through.      

We headed back to Gardiner stuck in long lines of slow-moving traffic. We stopped back at the store for some essentials, and this is how I was introduced to Huckleberry. This delicious berry is the rage here-growing in colder regions and higher altitudes. It is a sweet, tangy distant relative of flavor to the blackberry. I am certain it is a joke for the locals as I procured 20 huckleberry lollipops as gifts for my peeps back home. If given an opportunity, though I highly recommend a huckleberry and peanut butter sandwich (preferably on gluten free bread). I have spent many an evening since conjuring up a huckleberry black market gig or honing my skills as a huckleberry farmer. Both ideas seem unobtainable with numerous barriers to success. As I work out the kinks in this plan, I will continue to taste test my way through this trip, perfecting my skills as a huckleberry connoisseur.    

When we arrived back in Gardiner, I overheard Hubs talking sweetly outside as if romancing a “lady”. His sing song accolades were slightly out of character. As I peered through the blinds, I noticed he was speaking to the visiting Elk. Curious as to how the Elk entered the backyard, we then watched with fascination as she (it) munched on the owner’s lawn. We gazed out the blinds, staring with complete captivation. As we came up with theories on the Elk’s entry we watched in amazement as she (it) took a standing jump over the fence as if to answer our inquiry with a giant exclamation point. We remained there in silence, knowing that we will most certainly never witness this in Florida. We ended our amazing evening by watching a spellbinding Tampa Bay Buccaneers Football game with them winning the last 2 seconds. A little hometown jubilation 2,500 miles away.  

Day 9 Great Falls, Montana

Leaving our Gardiner VRBO All the Comforts Of Home Surrounded By The Rocky Mtns. & Yellowstone Park in Gardiner, MT | Expedia-I reflected on the trip taking a mental inventory of all the images I had been so fortunate to observe so far. The VRBO had been an oasis for us, providing a good home base, all the luxuries of home, clean clothes capability, and the much-utilized amenities. As the name indicates, it yielded “all the comforts of home” and more. “Momma Terry” the owner was an added bonus, extending her knowledge, suggestions and “Mommaness”.  All The Comforts-VRBO gets 5 suitcases from A Girl and Her Hubs-the only improvement would have been a king-sized bed-but in a VRBO/Airbnb world this is a unicorn. The incredible bargain, location and “comforts” more than made up for that small concession.

Passing through the flat plains of Bozeman, Montana we saw wild horses galloping freely over the golden fields. Rust colored striated mountains monopolized the landscape. We drove through canyons, passing cozy cabins and a bucolic scene of rowboats on a serene lake.

After several hours, we made it to Crystal Inn, Great Falls, Montana Great Falls – Crystal Inn Hotel & Suites (crystalinngreatfalls.com) . We would only be here one night, in an effort to break up the long hours of travel. Great Falls Visit Great Falls Montana – Home – Visit Great Falls Montana – Adventure Awaits in Montana’s Basecamp for Art & Adventure turned out to be a good breather from the hiking and physicality-granting us some much-needed R&R. A” vacation” from the vacation…Sue Babbitt, the front desk attendant-a spunky, spirited, enthusiastic gal represented Crystal Inn with pride. She lent her wayfinding services, suggesting activities, restaurants and detailed the hidden gems of Great Falls. Ultimately, we did none-but we enjoyed the chatter and the passion she displayed for her city and Crystal Inn.

Our suite was luxury, after 3 nights of sleeping on a cot. We had our own queen beds and spread out indulgently. A little disclosure here, I am a Pisces and love water activities (that don’t require activity). Crystal Inn had a saltwater indoor pool. We were warned a large tour group would be parading in at some point. We took advantage of the unattended pool and swam like little guppies, splishing, splashing, floating and plunging in zero gravity frivolity.

Hubs flung his arms and body in an impressive trajectory with tsunami like waves causing a storm surge with undulating aquatic ripples. Mid splash manatee style, two 20 something year old girls entered- bikini clad shocked to see this elderly twosome in a Cocoon-esque scene Cocoon (1985) – IMDb. They retreated to the hot tub, hovering closely together in fear and repulsion. No longer able to demonstrate our synchronized swimming routine for these young gals, we quickly departed-cloaking our shame and sogginess in ill-fitting towels.

Back in the room we had an indoor picnic from our grocery selections we had wisely obtained back in town while watching a Yankee game. The air was very smoggy with a high smoke advisory, so we chose a good day to rest.

Day 10 GReat Falls, MoNTANA-EAST GLACIER NATIONAL PARK, MONTANA

After a great night’s sleep, waking up refreshed, I decided to surprise Hubs and provide him with an offer he could not and would not refuse. For 10 days, Hubs had given me free reign as I went from store to store collecting magnets, t-shirts, huckleberry nonsense and ridiculous sling shots, tomahawks and other unmentionables that may or may not get through TSA. Now it was my turn to let him have his fun. I proposed going to a local guitar store and purchasing an acoustic souvenir. Hubs was in total agreement and his exuberance exhibited was endearing. We drove to downtown Great Falls which was a charming town center-steeped in time. An eclectic array of stores on the surface were inviting and welcoming. But, as we entered the establishments, we realized they specialized in tattoos, bong paraphernalia and gems to ward off evil spirits. Our purpose today was Guitars of Montana –Guitars of Montana –John Laughlin, owner and guitar enthusiast greeted us immediately in his well-stocked store. He led Hubs to a back room with good acoustics and a nice supply of guitars. With a glassy gaze, Hubs lovingly ogled the selection. Balancing on a stool, he picked a 12 string Guild and began to strum with delight. Melodic harmonious notes boldly resonated from his expressive digits. John and Hubs talked “guitar language” which I am not fluent in. John detailed the finer selling points and mentioned “Montana has no sales tax.” That’s all Hubs needed to hear. John agreed to restring and tune the instrument as well as throw in a Led Zeppelin music book. Everyone was in agreement. We hustled off down the street for coffee to Crooked Tree-Crooked Tree crookedtreecoffeeandcakes.com).

We sat outside in the breezy autumn day at the hip coffee house as the American Flag waved proudly across from us. Hubs grinned ear to ear in glee over his new acquisition. From there, we roamed from store to store, finding ourselves in front of a pet store- Jack’s Pet Center. When is the last time you saw a pet store? We came across a Dorky (a yorkie and a dachshund) and babbled babytalk to this black, furry long mystery. We thought of our precious Juju back home under the care of our friend-shout out- Dr. Berlin. We fantasized expanding our family with this adorable creature. We calculated our finances, we created a name, and then of course reality-schlepping a puppy through the great outdoors. Puppydum, house training and explaining this new sibling to Juju-as we traveled down this rabbit hole of ridiculousness-the Dorky made eye contact with Hubs, charcoal eyes pleading adoption. Before making another monumental purchase, we moved on. Days later, we still think about the Ebony cutie and what could have been.   

We stumbled by accident in a few tattoo parlors. The proprietors looked curiously at us as ink blots and images crawled down their appendages-clearly, we were out of our element and coolly backed out.

We made our way back to Guitars of Montana where Hubs guitar was tuned, restrung, cleaned up and waiting for him. We continued our conversation with John, appreciating his expertise, his dedication and love of guitars. Leaving downtown Great Falls with our new Guild 12 string, the sun seemed brighter, the air cooler and our hearts fuller.

As the great Willie Nelson once sang “On the Road Again”, piled in now with a substantially sized guitar we motored onto East Glacier National Park. A transcending 2.5-hour drive northwest as the countryside became vast and foothills turned into grand mountains overshadowing our small vehicle.

We checked into Whistling Swan Motel Whistling Swan Motel — Your Glacier National Park Adventure Starts Here (seeglacier.com) and were pleased by our quaint cabin. The other 8 rooms were set aside in a separate location, our cabin was next to the owner Mark with no one else around. It was stark in conveniences but had what we needed-a refrigerator, a microwave, a comfy bed and parking right in front. We were situated on the Black Feet Indian Reservation  American Indian Tribes – Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) and the Native American Indian influences were everywhere.

We had an engaging, lengthy conversation with Mark the owner. He provided incredible insight on how the region has been affected terribly by Covid lockdowns. He barely had a season last year and gave shelter to all his employees during this time. He was extremely accommodating to my high maintenance requests (extra pillows, blankets, towels, Wi-Fi help, extra chair). East Glacier has a tiny village with a few stores, a handful of restaurants and an Amtrak train line. The train was in constant transport through our time and through several destinations-the train is very much a major mode of passage for people and resources.

We went to the town store also owned by Mark and picked up a few souvenirs, homemade pie and pizza for Hubs (of course made by Mark-obviously a jack of all trades). We set up a tiny picnic and watched the hilarious and ridiculous Joe Dirt as the Glacier sun set.  

Day 11 East Glacier National Park, Montana

If you recall our newmade hiking friends from Yellowstone Loren and Jeannine Candor from Iowa-they gave  incredible suggestions of which we were going to put to good use today-The Road to the Sun Going-to-the-Sun Road General Info – Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) with an informative app called  GyPsy Guide GPS Narrated Audio Driving Tour Apps | GyPSy Guide. Setting off to West Glacier National Park was a smorgasbord for the eyes. Hubs had been here on his cross-country trip those many, many years ago-and the memory of the sheer grandeur had stayed with him all these decades later. The visual bounty that was ahead of us are images that I will never, ever forget-but will be extremely challenging to accurately express through words and description, I will do my best…

Glacier Park has over 1 million acres. As we made our way into West Glacier the wind whistled through the windows and jostled the car. We were instructed via app when to look left, right and above. The GyPsy Guide narrated in sequenced timing landmarks of The Road to the Sun. We passed through the gate brandishing dual waving flags of USA and Canada as we were 30 miles from Alberta. We looked off in the distance and saw pyramid like regal mountains displaying red stone layers and snowcapped peaks that touched the clouds. We passed through St. Mary’s St. Mary, MT Travel Information (glaciermt.com) as rising elevation caused our ears to pop. Barren, damaged, stark trees still ravaged from the Reynolds Fire of 2015 where 4,000 square feet were incinerated stood like towering toothpicks.

As the drive progressed so did the traffic congestion. We were informed that entry had been shut down and unpassable for 3 weeks prior to our visit. We were instructed by GyPsy Guide to “find a parking space, go for a hike on this trail.” However, there were no spots available and no safe options for waiting or turnaround on the curving treacherous winding road. Our guide pointed out the Golden Staircase Video (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov), Wild Goose Island Wild Goose Island – Glacier National Park, Montana – Charismatic Planet (seen on the movie The Shining), Mount Logan Mount Logan(GNP) : Climbing, Hiking & Mountaineering : Summit Post, Jackson Glacier Jackson Glacier Trail – Montana | AllTrails –the 7^th largest Glacier in the park, Logan Pass Logan Pass – Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov) (highest point). We went through the East Tunnel Video (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov), drove straight through fluffy clouds, past a “weeping wall” Weeping Wall, Glacier National Park – AllTrips (allglacier.com), Bird Woman Falls Waterfall Video (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov), and the Continental Divide Continental Divide – Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov). The Continental Divide is a line that divides the flow of water between the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean. To go one step further it is referred to as “the crown”, because in addition to Pacific and Atlantic Ocean run offs, there is also a runoff that flows North towards Canada.

We miraculously found a parking spot in front of Lake McDonald Lake McDonald Valley – Glacier National Park (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov), we walked along the cobbled speckled oddly misshapen rocks. Pastel colored stones in the shimmered iridescent turquoise water. I walked along the shoreline while Hubs sat at a bench. The only sounds heard were the rocks beneath my feet. I stood at the shoreline looking out at the vastness in front of me. The silence and intense beauty around me opened my heart and stirred up emotions that have lied dormant. Recently, my mother had passed away 6 weeks ago, and the grief process has been a moving target of feelings. I have moved through all the stages of Kubler Ross’s grief spectrum, back and forth numerous times. But, as I let the weight of my feet carry me through this surreal place, this wonderland of immense splendor, the profound and painful heaviness of sorrow bore down on me like a lead vest. I asked my mom for a sign. Anything to know that she was sharing this moment with me. For a brief second, on a greying afternoon, the sun split through the cloud haze, and I felt a microcosm of a moment of the sun’s warmth heat up my face. Did it happen, was it real? None of this really matters. Temporarily, the sadness, emptiness and palpable deep despair dissipated. I bent down, my hands grazed across the smooth, surface of the rocks. I chose one that stood out from the rest. When I come home, these rocks reside in a Tibetan bowl that holds tangible memories of my travels that are an embedded memorial to a single instance of clarity and resolve.

We preceded to make our way back up The Road to the Sun. The GyPsy Guide restarted his spiel in the opposite direction, the preferred one as we had missed many things on the first run. As we continued up, around a curve we eyed a parking spot. Without hesitation, we slid in excited at our achievement. We quickly gained momentum and started to hike the Granite Park Chalet Loop Trailhead Granite Park Trail (visitmt.com), the passage was the width of a goat, with no guardrail, protruding misshapen roots, rocks, and overgrowth. We continued down this perilous pathway, traversing other hikers marching in their footsteps. At the 1-mile point, the sky grew ominous, the dark clouds hung over us as the air chilled and the sun vanished. A storm was imminent and this dry, dirt, narrow restricted walkway with rain would surely be a dangerously slippery, sloping mud slide of doom.

We retreated just in time as the sky opened, the rain deluged the much needed arid, kindling forest. As we continued to The Road to the Sun, now through the steamy windows and moist air made viewing challenging as the visibility began to deteriorate. We made our trek back into town a lengthy 2-hour drive as we devised a plan for dinner. Next door to the motel was 1 of only a couple restaurants with extremely limited hours-Serrano’s Serrano’s Mexican Restaurant (serranosmexican.com). We arrived at 5:09 (hours 5-9pm) and not a seat was to be had. Every table was sat, hungry patrons holding menus anticipating their forthcoming feast. We were asked to wait outside in  the slowly forming crowd and informed us of a 30-minute wait. We sat on the bench outside as the customers congregated. There was a real sense of community, respect and genuine interest in each other.

We eventually were seated and much of this trip has been reliant on cooked meals, groceries and grazing. Only a handful of restaurants did we visit. Insatiable hunger growled in my belly, as I licked my lips imagining the enticing menu choices in my salivating mouth. Due to these congruent factors I overordered. We had a true Mexican Fiesta, chips, queso and all the reflux inducing components. Unable to finish my meal, I impulsively ordered desert as well-not to be consumed and sadly, the rock-hard petrified flan was tossed yesterday as we vacated Whistling Swan Motel. The Huckleberry Cider and Key Lime Pie served as a sedative later that night for dear Hubs as he snored into blissful huckleberry abyss.

Day 12 East Glacier National Park, Montana

On this morning I awoke feeling dreadful. Inevitably on every trip there comes a day where my body says “Enough”. This may have been the day. But, also dry air, artificial heat, dehydration, overexertion and change in routine always contribute to this predictable “hard stop”. A quick pep talk, hot shower and a dose of depressing news on the TV, was all the interventions needed to get myself moving, apparently that was the remedy needed for the reset button.

Several individuals on this trip had recommended Two Medicine Exploring Two Medicine | Glacier National Park Hiking & Camping (glacier-national-park-travel-guide.com). Closer in distance then yesterday’s excursion, only a short 22 miles outside East Glacier. We arrived getting the very last parking spot. Two Medicine South Shore Trail  Two Medicine Lake South Shore Trail – Montana | AllTrails starts at the Two Medicine Lake. There is a boat ramp, and I am certain in the summer months there is massive amounts of activity on this lake with boats and other water sports. But, for now-the season has ended and not a boat to be seen across the somewhat choppy greenish blue waters. Entering the South Shore Trailhead, quickly- one is immersed in an enchanted shaded forest.

Thick evergreens tall, commanding and imposing act as an awning overhead shielding the brilliant autumn sun’s rays. As the path progresses it opens to awe inspiring mountains from every angle. We passed a thirsty moose and its offspring, slurping water from a creek- an audience of nosey onlookers stopped, peering through branches, watching in fascination each gulp the moose took. After 30 seconds Hubs and I lost interest. We walked through waste high marigold-colored wildflowers. We passed friendly hikers along the way who were always welcoming and conversational. At 3.5 miles we made it to the two-tiered waterfall. The beguiling scene in front of us offered our weary feet a simple earned visual reward. We sat on a cool slate stone in front of the gushing water and munched on picnic provisions I had packed. The cold-water cascade sprayed dewy droplets our way providing gentle relief. Of note, it was a glorious day weather wise. A strong sun, although shaded much of the time by trees, cool air and zero humidity.

After our lunch break, with fuel in our engines, we moved through the obstacles a bit faster. We had numerous side bar conversations, discussed favorite moments on the trip, and had several chuckles. We passed a mother and daughter clearly upset, stopping us to inquire if we had seen their sister. They had lost her and were quite concerned. We promised to keep an eye out for her. About 30 minutes later, we approached a woman who fit the description of the worried hikers. She yelled her name as she grew closer, evidently several other hikers had heard the story and made inquiries. She stated that this is the third day her sister and niece had moved on quickly ahead and “lost her” 3 days she has had to try to keep up with these ladies! I would be furious. I instructed her to “teach them a lesson”. Toss some twigs in her hair, mark up her face with dirt and tell them she was chased by a mountain lion. She nodded in agreement-we all giggled and said our goodbyes. But, in all seriousness, these woods are no joke, there are wild deadly animals, there are numerous dangerous drops, places to trip, and injuries to occur. It was never too far from my thinking that the woods are no place to mess around. bad things happen, people get lost, currently there is a famous story where a girl is missing from the same trails we hiked.     

We were 1 mile from completing the loop when a darkened sky quickly turned into rapidly pelting rain. Initially the condensation granted momentary relief. But, as it continued, the rain swiftly increased. We hightailed the remaining portion eventually making it to the warm, dry car. As soon as we entered the car, the rain stopped, and the sun penetrated down. We were thoroughly exhausted. We had run out of water, we were nauseous from fatigue, cold and wet. In the end, we had hiked 7 miles taking 4 hours.

We drove back to the cabin and as soon as Hubs head hit the pillow he was snoring. I learned long ago a “repeat” meal is never a good thing-eating the same place 2 days in a row. But, with limited options and our grocery supply diminishing-I ordered from Serrano’s- Serrano’s Mexican Restaurant (serranosmexican.com) the Mexican restaurant from the night before that we so enjoyed. I ordered the food and picked up from the once again popular and crowded eatery. We ate in our small quarters awkwardly, uncomfortably and clumsily as Hubs balanced a gargantuan pile of messy nachos on his lap, causing the room to smell like a spicy hacienda for the remainder of the time we stayed at Whistling Swan. And, probably still to this day continues to….

Day 13 East Glacier National Park, Montana

This would be our last full day in East Glacier. Hubs had done extensive research the night before on a trail worthy of our energy reserve (which was slowly depleting). We drove past the Lewis and Clark National Forrest Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest – Home (usda.gov). The striking vista of majestic mountains resembled an artist interpretation as the early morning light radiated the pointed peaks. The first onset of autumn had launched revealing the tinted treetops glistening in a golden incandescence. After an hour of driving with no signs of civilization, we came upon a town Hungry Horse, Hungry Horse (visitmt.com) a speck of a town. I squealed in delight as we almost passed the sign for Willow’s HuckleberryLand, The Sweet Treats At Willows HuckleberryLand In Montana Are Exquisite (onlyinyourstate.com) begging Hubs to stop. He accommodated my ridiculous request pulling into the gimmicky pitstop and local icon that has been operating for almost a century specializing in everything Huckleberry-the official berry of Montana. Did I mention my new Huckleberry obsession/addiction? Hubs chose to remain in the car- a choice he later regretted. I went into Huckleberry hysteria, at some point, the excitement overtook me, I think I blacked out. Returning to the car moments later, I proudly shared my possessions with Hubs. The less than 10-minute fugue acquisitions included a Tomahawk, 3 sling shots, pellets for the sling shots (why not?) and everything Huckleberry I could get my hands on, including soap. My one regret that I did not get was a slice of Huckleberry pie. During my research, I have learned that the pie with huckleberry ice cream makes this place in the summer impossible to get a seat in their dining area-which on this day was completely empty. Entering the car with the tomahawk, sling shots, jelly and candy-Hubs just shook his head in exasperation-not sharing the same gusto. Later, driving back ravenous hunting for food futilely, I deeply lamented over not having secured that delicious rare iconic Huckleberry pie.  

We continued driving on through Whitefish Whitefish, MT | Official Website (cityofwhitefish.org). This charming family-oriented community and resort town has a population of 7,000 people. Wealthy lake houses dot the perimeter, each one more fabulous than the previous. I fantasized about a life here as we passed a thriving hospital. My dream sequence ended abruptly as I envisioned my first winter, snow, ice and forget driving in these elements. I most likely was seeing Whitefish on one of the most sublime weather days of the year.

We started off at Swift Creek Loop Swift Creek Loop – Montana | AllTrails which started off in a spellbinding forest thick with soaring pine trees. The soft ground beneath us that we walked on felt like plush velvet. The herby fragrant smell from pine and other native plants scented the air in aromatic splendor. Blue Montana sapphire stone indigenous to this region paved the way in scintillating uniqueness. We came to an overlook with a view of a receding lake. The path continued to an open field with dainty wild lavender-colored flowers profuse with leaping camouflaged Ninga grasshoppers. These pesky insects and their wiry antennae have left me with Grasshopper induced PTSD.  I can still hear the distinct buzzing and creepy crackling sounds produced from their wing casings as they terrorized me. Leaping and flying (yes flying!) taunting me with those beady eyeballs as they sprung and catapulted risky hopscotch at my thick hiking boots as I attempted to dodge their flinging intimidation. (Here’s some fun footage for you) Grasshoppers invade western US in largest swarms in decades, plaguing farmers and ranchers – Strange Sounds. I shall never be able to eat grasshopper pie again.

 We reached the summit and rested on a conveniently placed bench as we noshed on the packed peanut butter and huckleberry jam sandwiches I packed. The day had progressively heated up and we both began to peel off layers as we were only halfway through the 6-mile hike.

We made our way back around stopping briefly at Swan Lake Swan Lake Montana – Swan Lake. We completed the loop and as a parting gift an angry blister began to emerge on my tender heel now throbbing. Back in the car, we headed back. We began to search for dinner options. This was a very peculiar and disturbing trend we were starting to see often. We stopped at several places. One of which was very popular and rated well but closed due to “lack of staffing”. We tried a few more places as our options were dwindling. Finally, we found a real dive, one parking spot left-a real hole in the wall complete with pool table, a smoking section! And a waitress with alarmingly red leg wool sweater warmers (it was 70 degrees) up to her thighs who greeted us with “sweetie, honey” Packers Roost –Packers Roost – Drinking Establishments – 9640 Highway 2 Bar E (hub.biz)  what Packers did bestow was greasy bar food that later I deeply regretted. It was cheap, quick and open which at this point was our only criteria. Flies, ambience and tummy aches were complimentary. Guts gurgling, sun setting-we made the hour voyage back to our cabin for our final night in East Glacier.

Day 14 East Glacier National Park, Montana-Big Fork, Montana Final Day

This night proved to be supremely frightful. We essentially awoke to a cyclone- or what seemed like it. Hijacked from our dreams we arose to the groans of the cabin creaking, the sopranic howl of the 30 mile per hour gale winds. As I lay hunkered under the covers, I murmured to Hubs “are you awake?” In a sleepy monotone, he mumbled “no.” We peeked out the blinds and to our dismay, the American flag outside was whipping forcefully. I have endured numerous hurricanes in Florida and have never felt Mother Nature’s ferocity this intensely. I assume that as winter approaches, the Northern winds from Canada and above bring in these systems and this is nothing new for this region. But, for us-we thought we were in a typhoon ready to be impaled by a fallen tree crashing through the cabin roof. For several hours, this persisted until finally it slowly faded out.

By sunrise, there was no signs of what we had encountered. I would have believed it to be a fever dream-if I had not had Hubs with me. To think that the Hubs initially wanted to camp in a tent outdoors as he had as a young boy! I argued with him vehemently in the planning stages of this endeavor that there is a time stamp for such pursuits in life. For me, if it doesn’t have a sturdy roof, a shower or a bed-I have made peace with I won’t be sleeping in the great outdoors in a tent. 30 mile per hour winds shut the door for me- for good on that one.

We packed up and vacated Whistling Swan Motel. This was much more than a motel for me. Being on the Black Feet Indian Reservation was a cultural immersion lesson in life. I learned the Indian way of life. The Native American Indian philosophy can be applied to almost any season in life. All things are interrelated-everything is connected. Change is inevitable. Both the physical and spiritual world are real. People are accountable for their fullest potential. Staying in the modest cabin Mark the owner from Whistling Swan provided us-I learned to do more with less (minus the Huckleberry situation). I learned that the people that showed up to work are the ones who matter. I learned that even a scary grasshopper can hold beauty within its wings. I learned food is substance, fuel and delicious when you have worked hard for it. I thoroughly loved and savored the discussions we had with Mark adding incredible insight of the struggles, challenges and achievements of the hardworking people of Black Feet Indian Reservation. East Glacier National Park was one of the most visually astounding places on Earth I have ever been to. Whistling Swan Motel was not just a place to lay my head after a day of hiking. It was a place to make sense of all the brilliance I was able to see. It was literally an anchor in the storm, and refuge in the truest sense. The elements are harsh in East Glacier National Park. There is a level of respect that this area deserves. I will forever appreciate the transparency that this area commands. It is not for the lighthearted. The paths are narrow, the mountains are imposing, the weather is extreme. Everything in East Glacier National Park is extreme and epic. The Road to The Sun-is no exception-and for me it was the most spectacular visual experience I have ever witnessed.

We left East Glacier and preceded to our last stop on this 2-week national park pilgrimage. We stopped in Kallispell, Montana Kalispell, MT | Official Website– the first real signs of civilization. We found a Starbuck’s and sat by a fireplace as Hubs savored his first real coffee in 14 days. We eventually made it to our last hotel  The Islander Inn – Take a Break by the Lake (sleepeatdrink.com) in Bigfork – Montana. Named after the fork where two rivers meet- the Flathead River and the Swan River flow into the Flathead Lake.

The Islander Inn is a small hotel with a handful of units all named after Islands, directly across from the immense Flathead Lake Flathead Lake | In the shadow of Glacier National Park. Our unit was spacious and had many amenities. We would only be here a short time and we were going to try to take advantage of everything this stunning area had to offer.

We settled in and took a walk along the street. Unable to get to the beach as it was all private access. The waves were thunderous on turquoise glistened water. Bleached driftwood covered the sandy shore. Beautiful alpine style beach chalets flank the lake with mountains way off in the distance and scaling rock bordering the homes. The seaside nautical life abundant.

We came across The Raven The Raven (ravenbigfork.com) a neighborhood bar and eatery. We sat at a table overlooking the turbulent lake. The sun was bright, the winds were hair whipping and the waves created white capped ripples. When we arrived, a rowdy bunch was full of celebrations. But they soon disappeared, and it was just Hubs and I-relishing our last final moments of this truly memorable trip. We ate humble salads and focused on the view, this moment and the finality of this journey.

As we walked back, hand in hand to The Islander Inn preparing for the reality of packing, airplane travel, work return-I took a moment to reflect on all the beauty I had seen in this incredible country of ours. I was spellbound by the patriotism and splendor of Mount Rushmore, the kind souls of South Dakota, the bizarre and extraordinary wonders and mysteries of Yellowstone and the grandeur and magnificence of Glacier National. For the first time ever, I have no trips in the queue for now so the memories made will stay in my heart and continue to enrich my soul and stay with me forever.

Until next time…

~F&B~

see ya!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Girl, Her Hubs and A Suitcase

Well, its been a long time…18 months to be exact. A whole lot of nothin’ and everything occurred.

I have one picture that summarizes my long absence.

Here we go, Ready…

As you may sadly recall, we forfeited Poland March 2020 trip due to Covid travel ban. This disappointment was followed by a slow recovery hysterectomy. We then surrendered our September 2020 Tokyo trip-due to cancellation beyond our control-thanks again Covid. We both got vaccinated in December 2020. Hubs deservedly retired in January 2021. I was provided a free ticket to attend my hometown Tampa Bay Florida Superbowl to experience my Buccaneers win the most epic Superbowl EVER because I am a “healthcare hero”, hahaha-NOT.

In March 2021-we went on a little jaunt to the mountains of North Carolina for my anticlimactic 50^th birthday with Hubs (No blog composed due to fallout of a creative coma). We hibernated in a cozy cabin with our Dachshund Juliet-breathing in the healing mountain air.

Life began to shift back into normalcy in May 2021, just in time to be able to enjoy the last few months with my mother in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. In July I was blessed to be able to spend the last final days with my Mommy at her bedside up until her final breath.

Shortly thereafter, Covid exploded in my hospital I work at and this last month has been a foggy blur of carbon dioxide induced misery from excessive mask suffocation.

I return to you now because with our Tokyo cancelled trip, we switched gears and are embarking in a few days to unchartered territory-Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone National Park and Glacier National Park for 2 weeks. It has been a year in the making and truthfully, I thought-we thought- the world would look a bit more optimistic and promising. I will say in full transparency, my perspective is skewed and slightly dramatic (Dramatic, you? No way?) as I am entrenched in the throes of Covid, its assault on the patients I care for and living day to day mandated by hospital regulation. Truthfully, I respect the power of this virus and don’t want to tempt it. So, I play by the rules, lead a low-profile life these days-all but abandoning travel the last 18 months.

This trip shall play out much different than others I suspect. All the above events that have transpired for me have altered my views on the world, travel and life in general. We all have had to sidestep and do-si-do our way around a new set of obstacles, retracting from hugs, fist pumping and knocking elbows as if this can substitute human touch.

How dare the old me- who used to incessantly complain about airplane claustrophobia, currency debacles, a rude waiter, a tiny shower, a strange menu. I long for such minutia of matters. Or perhaps, I was ahead of the game and prepared now to travel confined in a mask for 3 time zones, cracked lips, dehydration and oxygen deprivation.

So, here I am-back for I am not sure how long. Perhaps, you may be stuck with me for longer than intended or this is where we part ways…Who knows…In a few days, we meet again with new travel tales and daring adventures as A Girl, Her Hubs and A Suitcase hit the wild, wild, west- Mount Rushmore, Yellowstone National Pak and Glacier National Park.

Happy Trails,

~B&F~

Day 1 Frankfurt/Wurzburg

Day 2 Wurzburg/Dinklesbuhl

Day 3 Dinkelsbuhl/Nuremberg/Prichsenstadt

Day 4 Prischsenstadt/ Bamberg

Day 5 Prischsenstadt/Schweinfurt/Nuremberg

Day 6 Prischsenstadt/Erfurt/Neuhausen

Day 7 Neuhausen/Dresden

Day 8 Neuhaussen/Meissen/Leipzig

Day 9 Leipzig/Berlin

Day 10 Berlin

Day 11 Berlin/Home

Day 1 Frankfurt/Wurzburg

Guten Tag from your one and only Frau and Herr and der Koffer- welcome to the German edition of A Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase. Get those ill-fitting lederhosen strapped on and that itchy dirndl laced up because it’s about to go down Franconian style. It’s October and that only can mean one thing- the Hubs has masterminded another stellar getaway back to the fatherland- tromping through the magical truffle fields of Deutschland.

If you are a fan of this now 6 year and counting blog then you understand the crafty nature and the unique travel philosophy that these two spirited explorers embrace. It is the true wanderlust of travel that has captivated our souls and ultimately propelled us into now over 30 capers abroad. Having been to Germany numerous occasions, a tempting airfare and a genuine passion for all things German was the driving force for this autumn adventure.

An easy overnight direct flight half full brought us semi rested into Frankfurt, Germany. We picked up our Smurf Blue Cintron stick shift that would serve as a vehicle only half our time in Germany- due to malfunctions and mishaps- but more to come with that…

The Hubs navigated the turbo fueled autobahn-favoring the slow lane designated to the less brave and cautious variety. Yours truly slobbered and snored in head bobbing unison to the twists and turns of the highway. Occasionally, startled by car movement or the Hubs random cursing- an unmotivated eye would spring open providing the most vivid of backdrops. Van Gogh marigold landscapes bathed in the dipped sunlight that draped the horizon.

It took us an hour and a half to reach our first destination where we would remain only one night-Wurzburg https://www.britannica.com/place/Wurzburg . We were staying in the heart of the area, specifically chosen for its convenience and small city charm with big German allure. The town has unique Baroque architecture, buildings with romantic, elaborate and artistic details that draws one back in history. In complete contrast of the old world charm and gentile antiquity Wurzburg has a young, hip energetic feel to it with a lively, industrious vibe.

We checked into the Hotel Central Garni https://centralhotel-wuerzburg.com/   a modest hotel that provided the bare essentials. We entered the rather austere lobby; we were given the room key and shooed away. We compressed ourselves and exploding luggage into the tiny, unforgiving coffin sized elevator spilling out into the narrow hallway. As we tried to open the door of the room-anticipating that new exciting feeling that jump starts one’s heart in the eagerness of a hotel room’s splendors stirred within us, availing us a second wind. I fantasized of the lush linens and darkened shades that would rock me into a deep lullaby. I was brought swiftly back to reality as the housekeeper, mop in hand as if a weapon, snarled in German -something that did not resemble a warm welcoming to Hotel Central Garni. She made hand motions as if swatting away an annoying fly, all the while glaring at us.

As the door swung open, my dreams of a sweet siesta disappeared clearly now understanding the housekeeper’s source of disdain. The remains of a glorious evening, dirty plates and thrown covers peeked through the door, teasing our exhaustion. Once again dismissed- we returned to the front desk to be informed as we already knew the room was not ready. This actually served as a gift from the travel Gods as we would see so much in those few hours that were initially reserved for rest.

We ventured out in the cool air. The sun was setting and the streets were alive with activity. We walked through the cobblestone streets through a spectacular park. The emerald green manicured hedges of the Hofgarten https://www.gardenvisit.com/gardens/wurzburg_hofgarten  displayed sculptures and exquisitely cropped topiary. As we continued our stroll, a carpet of rust colored leaves softened our steps, reminding these naïve Floridians other seasons do in fact exist. Ornate fountains with Rococo swirly detail stood center court in the main square.

We made our way to the old main bridge https://www.wuerzburg.de/en/visitors/must-sees/22694.Alte-Mainbruecke-old-bridge.html  one of the most popular landmarks in Wurzburg. The bridge dates back to 1473. Important saints and iconic figures such as Charlemagne and the three apostles of Franconia line the bridge in protective stance over its beloved structure. Off in the distance, perched high up is Fortress Marionberg https://www.wuerzburg.de/en/visitors/must-sees/22689.Festung-Marienberg-Fortress-Marienberg.html  -a mighty landscape shielding Wurzburg by maintaining the old world in the modern day.

The bridge is not only a popular tourist site but a rather robust meeting point and “hang out” locale. Outdoor dining options, a live band bellowing out foot tapping tunes and many simply enjoying Wurzburg’s famous wine and beer options –propped themselves up against the stone wall of the bridge, absorbing the lingering moments of the autumn sun.

I paused taking in the full panoramic view absorbing the scope and breadth of the moment. These trips require planning, saving, preparation and organization which the Hubs does the majority of. The payoff existed in that one 360 degree gaze, as the sun warmed my face-all of it was worth it for just that one moment.

I Facetimed my mother and sister displaying the surrounding wonders around me- as they squealed in collective excitement. Having this moment and sharing it with my beloved family 6,000 miles from home made this an extra special memory.

From there, we walked through colorful Christmas markets selling produce, baked goods and other items. We did some mindless window shopping until fatigue and hunger began to kick in. We returned to the hotel and were offered some local dining options. Just a few steps from the hotel we decided to dine outside at Fuego. https://wuerzburg-escalera.de/.

At this point, the final moments of sunlight began to fade. We dined al fresco next to a heater as the temperature began to drop. Fuego had a nice variety of food options but nothing specifically German. Hubs had a fish that was unique to the region accompanied by potatoes glistening with butter. The smell of the salty dark bread was so tantalizing it was almost too much to bear for this non bread eating gal. My salad and roasted mushrooms served as a consolation as Hubs dipped the thick, clunky bread into the butter bath that housed the potatoes.

After dinner we walked back to the hotel, finally into our room that we had not been to since our arrival. The room was spotless and our abandoned suitcases in the hallway had been placed with consideration by the housekeeper. Seeing the welcoming bed and inviting pillows-all memories of maid misery were vanished and replaced with nothing but gratitude. Our first day in Germany was a true surprise and a bonus.

Day 2 Wurzburg/Dinklesbuhl

Waking up refreshed and eager, we made our way back to Fuego for a fast, easy breakfast. We sat outside as we had the evening before. However, we quickly realized outside dining in Europe means cigarette smoke. The temperature at this point was in the mid-thirties and we struggled to maintain warmth.

We dined on hot cheesy omelets in the cold air. It is not a food item I usually eat and this would be the only exception -but it provided me with nourishment and fuel for the day ahead. Bellies full and energy abundant we made our way to Wurzburg Residence.

The Residence https://residenz-wuerzburg.de/englisch/residenz/index.htm is one of the most important baroque palaces in Europe. It dates back to 1780 when it was completed. It served as the dwelling for the Wurzburg prince bishops. With World War II, 90% of the structure and furnishings were ruined due to fire and water damage. Incredibly, Tiepolo’s ceiling frescoes were saved.   

We took a self-guided tour through the many rooms doing what we call the “museum shuffle”. Eventually, we made our way outside to the gardens. We had spent a long period there yesterday so felt no need to re-explore due to a heavy schedule. The air had warmed up considerably and before leaving the city we drove up to the Marienberg Fortress https://www.schloesser.bayern.de/englisch/palace/objects/wu_fest.htm . It is a   UNESCO Heritage designated site, a monolithic structure that is the symbol of Wurzburg dating back from the 1300’s. Its history is strong and deep and rather complex. It has served many purposes including the site of many battles and bloodshed. In World War I it functioned as a barracks for artillery and in World War II it operated as a medical depot as well as storage for cultural priceless treasures. Sadly, it was destroyed at the end of WW II from fire bombs. It was only in 1950 that a 40 year reconstruction took place.

We climbed the stone steps to the fortress following the perimeter. The air remained cool and the views of Wurzburg and beyond were breathtaking. The sky was clear, the sun warm and bright and the crowds were limited. Rust colored roof tops shimmered under the mid-morning sun. The gleaming River Main snaked along the narrow water passageway with fancy ships and houseboats occupying the water’s edge.

We chose a lonely bench with a stunning backdrop of the city below. We had a light picnic and refueled for our Wurzburg departure. As we drove out of town, I took a collection of all that we had seen in 24 hours. An area completely unknown to me only a day ago, I felt now an honorary resident. The history of a resilient city that had endured many battles, numerous lost. The conflicts and hardships suffered yet endured only made this city stronger and rebuilt to its original glory.

After a surprisingly full morning, we loaded up in that rather feisty Citron off to our next designation. Hubs had provided a full color coated, hour by hour itinerary, including an undie count, rest periods and permissible sock allowance. We have learned the hard way- pack only what you can carry and edit as much as possible.

Hence, the Hubs organized color coated spread sheet and shoe allotment. Adhering to the prepared timeline, we headed back on the road. An hour’s drive later primarily on the highway -the poor Hubs randomly white- knuckling the steering wheel, periodically grimacing at the Google map on his phone, while Wifey-pooh dreamed of a low carb-gluten free pretzel and sugar free, alcohol free Radler invention that will systematically catapult German Cuisine into the next century.

Sadly, this mastermind idea remains abandoned due to a lack of like-minded fools and Radler’s are considered almost non-alcoholic to the rest of the natural world (*The most delicious combination of Beer and Lemonade or Beer and Sprite- and back in the day- my “cocktail” of choice.) But, I digress …..

Arriving in Dinkelsbuhl https://www.romanticroadgermany.com/dinkelsbuhl.php one is instantly transported into the weathered pages of a Grimms Fairy Tale Book. Nestled in the region of Franconia, Dinkelsbuhl is a historic Bavarian town dating back to the 1300’s. Driving into the popular area, bucolic storybook half-timbered houses line the street. Brightly colored shutters adorn each home and dwelling, adding a uniquely identifying quality. Ornately detailed German words and titles embellish the pastel stone wall foundations. Cobblestone streets serve as the only pavement in this small town of 11,000 people.

We arrived apparently at the peak of the day as the small city swelled to capacity with tour groups in intimidatingly mass numbers. Hubs drove nervously down the odd formation of streets, both of us suffering from parking anxiety. We have been known to leave a city- regretfully only due to lack of parking. However, a friendly chap eagerly pointed us to a hidden nook behind the hotel with several parking spots, free and without interruption until our departure in the morning. This alone gives our Hotel Meiser’s https://meisers-cafe.de/en a 5 star rating in our book.

At the hotel, it was clear lunch hour was at full throttle. Every table and seat was occupied and waiters flew by me as I ducked and weaved through the restaurant to eventually the check in area. A lederhosen wearing waiter carrying a tray with someone’s sad remains of Apple Strudel, hugged the snug reception desk quickly providing check in details. The chaos of what appeared to be a travel tour induced apple strudel frenzy was in its final mind dizzying moments.

Meiser’s yellow and brown shuttered symmetrical building has 11 boutique style rooms and a popular restaurant. We checked in, dropped off our bags in our room situated on the third floor-precarious, wonky, uneven stairs creaked and moaned (similar to us) with each dicey footstep. Our room was spacious and luxurious with a big bathroom and generous bathtub, that later would soothe my much needed traveled muscles later on that evening.

We explored the streets of Dinkelsbuhl trying to salvage the few remaining moments of sunlight-as this would be our only opportunity to explore our interesting surroundings. As luck would have it for Hubs, all the shops were closed. Unique store fronts with enticing items all useless as none would be open during our short stay there.

The mad rush we had witnessed at lunch seemed to have cleared out and the city was now a quiet ghost land. Tour buses and all its inhabitants vanished leaving behind not even a strudel crumb.

We walked through the small town and curvy streets to the medieval wall of the city eventually making a full loop back to the hotel. We returned for dinner and the Hubs was on a lucky streak as it was “fish festival”- at least according to the waiter and big fish tank proudly displayed on the street across from the hotel.

We ate at the restaurant in the hotel. It was crowded and popular and our bellies empty. We sat next to a German couple rather awkwardly close who seemed curiously interested in our conversation and menu selections. Neither of us shared a common language but as our elbows touched and eyes met it was dauntingly strange.

Hubs had a fish bouillabaisse recommended by the waiter. Orange colored spicy broth full of fresh seafood kept Hubs sipping and slurping serendipitously. A veggie burger with the most interesting potato salad was provided for me. The restaurant touts Viennese café style atmosphere. I would not be able to decipher between that or any other European environment. But, the food was good, hearty and delicious. It was a full day of Germanic pleasures followed by an early night. Rest came easy tucked in our adorable Bavarian hideaway.

Day 3 Dinkelsbuhl/Nuremberg/Prichsenstadt

Waking up on day 3 in Dinkelsbuhl, the sunlight streamed through the boxy window. The rooftops of the enchanted village peaked through our porthole to reality. Chimneys pushed out ashy, slate colored plumes of smoke. It was a majestic wake up call.

We made our way to breakfast, reflecting back now-this would be our best breakfast. In the same area we dined the night before was a beautiful spread of hot and cold items many specific to the region. Hubs dined on white sausage, hot eggs and the finest of pastries.

My ridiculous palate of finicky annoyingness mixed with food allergies, intolerance and untouchables consisted of a protein shake bootlegged in my luggage from home and ice from the champagne ice bucket. Even at that- this was by far the best breakfast selection and presentation provided the entire time. So, stay tuned for the more graphic, deprived breakfasts ahead….

Driving out of Dinkelsbuhl, sadness came over me, wishing we could remain there. However, it is a small town that we fully explored. The robust timetable is a compact with a cornucopia of experiences, it is a fast- paced, in and out and move on kind of itinerary that allows for little regret, redo’s or reflection. Hence, the necessity of the blog-and the tedious detailed documenting of this journey. I learned many trips ago, without the laborious chronicling of events- recollecting it becomes a homogeneous kaleidoscope of blurred memories spilling into one another.

We then drove to Nuremberg https://www.britannica.com/place/Nurnberg – a historical area that has been on the wish list. Driving into the big city, it was alarmingly still as it was Sunday. This day would solely focus on exploring the Germanisches Nationalmuseum- https://www.gnm.de/ . The building itself dates back originally from the 1850’s.  Massive destruction took place after WWII, and what stands today is rebuilt from the 1960’s.

An open entrance full of ample light welcomes one as they enter, but once inside enclosed in quiet, uncrowded rooms await a plethora of art, antiquities, sculptures and other fanciful relics. Among the artists we particularly enjoyed were Lucas Cranach the Elder, Albrecht Durer, and Rembrandt. With over 22,000 items in the museum’s permanent collection there is something for all to enjoy. We spent several hours there with of course, an apple strudel and coffee for Hubs as he continued his apple strudel taste testing across Germany. Although, all consumed-a knife was required which took this one out of the running.

As we exited the museum, stragglers roamed the quiet streets, curiously though unclear why as there was not much open. A local Starbucks seemed to be the only dwelling with a light on. Hubs refueled for the drive as even the Starbucks was now closing. More unopen retail storefronts teased my shopping curiosity now dull with defeat.

Back out on the murky road, it seemed odd that it was unusually dark at such an early hour. In comparison, back home in Florida sunglasses would be warranted. It was only later that evening that we realized, it was daylight savings in Germany. Obliviously we slept unknowingly through it and continued on a whole day with little notice to time, deadlines or necessity of a schedule other than fatigue and hunger being our clock. When else in my life will it ever occur in a world driven by commitments, obligations and agendas? My guess is probably never- therefore, this indifference to this numerical figure, at that very moment was once again a generous offering from the travel Gods gladly received. 

After an hour’s drive, we made it to Worners Schloss Weingut & Wellnesshotel https://www.woerners-schloss.de/. This by far was one of the most unique, off the beaten path kind of lodgings I have ever stayed in. The town has one roundabout and is generally in the middle of nowhere. However, Hubs was very calculated in choosing this spot because it became a central location for all the daytrips anticipated. We would remain there 3 days that proved an excellent home base for all the destinations we had planned.

We were greeted by Harold Worner the owner. The hotel takes advantage of its space offering, wellness packages and massage, a winery with all products for sale and on display in the office/reception, a country store full of all useless bric-a-brac (my guess left behind by past vacationing occupants) a working farm, gardens, Oh and did I mention a 15^th century castle along with turrets?

We were introduced and provided with his homemade wine and non-alcoholic beverage for me – which tasted identical to apple juice. He was horrified I did not drink alcohol -dry 3 years- and inquired if I was expecting. He became even more perplexed as he questioned my food allergies and preferences. As I listed my litany of forbidden, verboten, non-preferred and “don’t let near me” items, I could see the blood drain from his face. He tried painstakingly to get some sort of handle on my craziness, but for those that know me- this is an impossible, futile task. It is simply easier to embrace it (in which I have) than fight the madness. Regardless, he dutifully wrote a list gathering a long collection of non-edibles for yours truly and eventually rephrased the inquiry as to what I can eat. The list was short and un-notable. In the end, every morning, I schlepped out my brown rice cakes and bootlegged peanut butter and dined alongside Hubs, happily with my pilfered paraphernalia from home.    

We ascended the stone spiral swirl of a staircase up to the top with all our worldly goods into 40 pounds of luggage up the steps. No offering of assistance was provided and the room itself presented only the bare bones of necessity.

We would be occupying the top of a tower, a small wooden chalet of a space in the oddest formation I have ever encountered. The bed was catty corner and took up most of the space, low wood beams supported the ancient structure that forced one to duck and bend in strange contorted positions to simply walk to the bathroom or beyond the bed.  

The TV stood there as useless as the closed retail stores throughout our sojourn as we were never able to turn it on. A small index card taped on the door of the room warned about water concerns and cautioned not to drink. But, conveniently a $4.50 Euro bottle of sparkling water was available. Later on, we would find the local store and remedy this concern rather quickly. However, it was an interesting oversight that was never mentioned.

The hotel conveniently had a restaurant attached otherwise there were few dinner options available in the tiny town. We entered the small toasty restaurant, grateful for heat, warmth and food. It had been many hours; perhaps a few skipped meals since we had eaten and the weather outside began to deteriorate. It was in the cold 30’s and raining.

There was only one other couple dining there and the menu was on a chalk board in German. The waitress/cook came out and began to go through options with me. One by one, I shook my head no like a fussy, stubborn toddler. Ravioli?  No, I don’t eat pasta. Vegan schnitzel breaded and deep fried. No, I don’t eat fried or breaded items. Mushrooms in a rich cream sauce? No, I usually cannot tolerate dairy due to lactose intolerance. I added I like dairy- dairy does not like me. The joke was lost and patience was clearly and reasonably getting slim. Finally, it was decided I would have Risotto made with soy milk and sautéed fresh vegetables from the garden. All breathed a large sigh of relief including the other couple, who did not even speak English. Hubs always so easy- knew from the minute he gazed at the chalk board- he would have his most favorite of all German dishes- Sauerbraten.

Harold, the owner sat down next to us, telling us the story of his farm, the history and how it has been in his family many generations. His English was cautious and weighted and we enjoyed the brief interaction and attention. Enthralled by the exchange, the Hubs was talked into a glass of Harold’s famous cask cured Red wine. I as well was talked into another glass of apple juice- a rare indulgence for me inflating our bill, in the end making it our most expensive meal. 

Hubs was coaxed into trying the ‘wine soup specialty”. When would another offering opportunity such as this ever present itself again? Certainly not from the kitchen of “yours truly”. The wine soup was brought out to excited gasps from Hubs eager to consume this delicacy. The eggplant colored broth delivered an aromatic euphoria. Hubs slurped and glugged the foreign fuchsia fluid. He proclaimed it delicious and provided a detailed account of all its gastronomic qualities. Rolling my eyes from his dramatic declaration, I took a suspicious sip and agreed it was unique in a borscht type similarity. I was relieved that I did not succumb to peer pressure and forewent the soup suggestion as its captivating qualities would have been lost on me.

Our dinner entries arrived, my vegetable platter -a painter’s colorful palette of various vegetables, fresh and fragrant. The owner had reminded me his garden crops are grown with love. The fertile adoration embeds in the roots of the harvest presenting in delicious and harmonious results. A good meal, a treat and indulgence on all levels that wiped out our current Euro stash. This would be our only dinner at Worner Schloss https://www.woerners-schloss.de/  during the 3 day stay.  So, in the end, it was a memorable culinary experience.

We trotted off to bed, climbing the tower, knocking our heads on the wooden low beams and brushing our teeth with $4.50 Euro water only to spit in the sink. It was a full day, a fine day and there would be much more to come.

Day 4 Prischsenstadt/ Bamberg

Waking up in Worners Schloss, in our cozy wooden chalet was slightly disorienting. Peeking from the window shared with the eager woodpecker, I perused my odd surroundings. It was a balmy 42 degrees outside, a temperature a bit foreign to me. However, as the days would progress temperatures would drop and some amateur travel missteps I did would ultimately impact my comfort and some of the flow of events. Nothing too monumental but enough to add extra stops and minimally bottleneck plans. I share this with you my fellow traveler so you learn from my oversights.

My wardrobe was borderline inappropriate and marginally insufficient. I have a ridiculous surplus of jackets for every weather system, shape, size and scenario in my closet at home –the current temperature 80 degrees. But, in over excitement or just simple ignorance- I packed only a paper thin raincoat, a running jacket and a sheep skin hooded jacket that had seen better days. By day 6, deterioration and sheep skin tumbleweeds molted inexplicably completely impervious to a lint brush.    

In addition to totally inadequate warm provisions for these frigid temps for this Florida girl, the accompanying accessories such as a scarf, hat and gloves all were safely tucked away with my warm pea coat (at home). The dry air in complete contrast to the rain forest humidity that hangs like a heavy curtain in South West Florida did not exist in Bavarian mountain air in Germany. Hence, dry scratchy wirey hair completely non cooperative in every way tormented me. The result was scarecrow/dreadlocks mixed with frizzy mania. There was no amount of moisturizing cream, hair product or technique that could tame the beast. This afro calamity resulted in numerous stops to the local store trying to determine what German product would resolve the issue. Ultimately, in the end- there was no cure. The furball fiasco only fought back harder until finally, in desperation, a hat attempted to impound the dry strands of crispy curls- proclaiming in assent “vacation hair- don’t care”. But, as I perused the young, blond German girls with golden thick, tamed straight locks-I continued to fight the fruitless battle in vanity filled despair.

In addition to a complete lack of wardrobe warmth and the hair crisis catastrophe, next came the Tylenol withdrawal. An avid Tylenol consumer, an oversight occurred as I only packed enough for a few days. Yet another stop to the local store and apothecary, I quickly learned German Tylenol is made very differently than the USA version. It is apparently less potent and contains caffeine -an item I cannot take. Previous consequences from the ingestion of Panadol resulted in a full-fledged panic attack on a 16 hour flight to Hong Kong. It was during that scary, heart racing episode that the caffeine amount in it produced overwhelming anxiety, the feeling of impending death and elephant thumping chest palpitations. I had to relearn this lesson again, except fortunately not at 30,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean.  

With no Tylenol, sleep came in sputtered increments, doused with nightmares and the existing aches and pains of an aging gal traveling the world. This remained unchanged throughout the days abroad, but Hubs kept me feverishly distracted with activities making it a mere blip on the radar screen of vacation nuisances.

Across from our wooden getaway on top of the tower was the breakfast room. Breakfast for me-was a sad, dark disappointment filled with elusive food items that were more ornamental than edible. Questionable freshness of items was curiously unknown. How long have those cornflakes been there? Is the jelly changed daily?  By day 3 I recognized the same banana. At one point, Hubs requested mustard and I generously provided a mountainous dollop of banana curry baby food on his ham sandwich. It was an alter universe of culinary landmines unknown to me. A large pot invitingly seemed to offer hot eggs. Except when Hubs eagerly went to ladle out a hearty portion, the bowl was sufficiently empty never to be refilled. Of note, only one other couple was there during our stay.

We left Worners and drove to Bamberg https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/624/  for the day. Bamberg is a charming city, quintessential Germany with storybook cuteness and fairy tale appeal. It is a UNESCO world heritage site that dates back to 1,000 and maintains a well preserved medieval architecture.

Upon arrival, we stopped in a coffee shop for a quick cup of coffee. It was getting colder at this point, the sun bright but the temperature was beginning to drop. We walked through the interesting village, window shopping and checking out all the cute stores. Christmas decorations were all out, holiday markets exhibiting the most beautiful, delicate and precious ornaments, gifts and displays. There is literally no way one could walk through the village without feeling a nostalgic holiday yearning.

We located a nice bench in an idyllic courtyard. We had a light picnic to tide us over and reenergize us. We stopped in a store selling gluten free gingerbread and other gluten and vegan baked foods. Never quite the fan of gingerbread, I was informed prior to departure that it is a must as it virtually the home of gingerbread and famous for its unique qualities.

This tiny store had all sorts of deliciousness that has been on the untouchable list for good reason. But a sucker for Gluten Free, Vegan baked goods; I had to give it a try. Well, damn it- after the first bite, I heard angels singing in a confectionary choir. The dark, brown squares of moist cake were rich in flavor but not overly ginger. The luscious blocks of pastry prayers were one of the tastiest items I have had to date.

Munching on these delicate oblong pieces of ginger greatness, I cursed that darling store with all its delectable delicacies. It took me a decade working on mind, body and spirit to give up pretzels and all its salty, doughy delightfulness. I did not need another German addiction. Oh, and did I add some of them were dark chocolate coated? Well, sadly this delectable delight was never found again and subsequently the Gingerbread detox has been rather uneventful. I hope my lips may never touch another morsel of what I will now refer to as the devil’s cake. However, if in this region, I highly recommend if you do not have addictive qualities and feel the risk is worth it- try it as because nothing in my travels could ever come close this tasty treasure.

We continued to make our way through the town –gazing at the Altes Rathaus (City Hall) https://www.bamberg.info/poi/altes_rathaus-4656/  a rather noteworthy architectural splendor. Situated on an island with the roaring River Regnitz below provides a symphonic aquatic melody of beauty. The sun glistened off the rambling water. The half-timber yellow structure surrounded by stoned walls hung perched on an arched ancient bridge. A tall brick church steeple poked through the top in watchful protection. We walked up to Bamberg Cathedral https://www.spottinghistory.com/view/5694/bamberg-cathedral/ rounding out a full day of Bamberg’s eternal bounties. Abundant serene canals with beautifully maintained ancient sloping houses containing  colorful flowerbed boxes lined the “little Venice” waterways all shaded by fall foliage creating a tranquil pilgrimage as we made our way back to the car completing our short stopover in Bamberg.

Driving back to Worners, we ventured over one town to dine at Zur Krone https://www.zur-krone-bruennau.de/ -a warm, cozy inviting restaurant. We were greeted with a local friendly reception. The hostess and chef and menu all were in German. The chef came out and sat next to us in true concern to suit our culinary needs. As usual Hubs was easy. He ordered a spicy, pumpkin soup and a rather intricate looking fish dish. My dinner consisted of potatoes, peas, pumpkin, beet, beans and rice. It was essentially a buffet on a plate. I appreciate that the chef truly went out of his way clearly to please. However, in my world “less is more”. There was a convergence of flavors intensely ignited with pumpkin and curry that my belly upon first bite rejected. I swirled the items around the plate trying desperately to drown out the assault of curry. In the end, though -dinner was interrupted by car drama that sequestered the remainder of our dining pleasures as well as my data plan with a folly of phone calls to Sixt rental.

From the get-go that Blue Smurf Cintron we knew was trouble. It was a 6 gear manual stick shift. The reverse gear was feisty as hell, in a hard to shift position cumbersomely located near first gear -nowhere near where US cars have it. Coming to dinner, the engine sounded anemic and lacking power and scarier- we could not go in reverse. An anoxic burnt clutch fluid stench overtook the car and we barely pulled into the restaurant. We were close to being abandoned on a bridge unable to shift and feared our passageway back to the hotel. The street to return was pitch black, no lights and no services available as we were out in the country very isolated.

We ate our food in silence with this car issue looming in the forefront of our thoughts. Eventually due to fear and being stranded in the dark, cold, and remote countryside- we contacted Sixt car rental. We were placed on hold over and over again only to be hung up. We were informed from “Omar” -in an undisclosed location that it would take over 2 hours and if there was no issue we would be charged. We were given a second option of dropping off the car in the morning in Schweinfurt (approximately 30 minutes away). We crossed our fingers and chose option B. 8 phone calls lasting 50 minutes- hopefully when we see this bill we will chuckle and chalk it up to benign travel drama.

With some prayer and coddling, the car started with only the faint distinct odor of scorched clutch fluid. We made it back to Wornerschloss under the licorice black sky, slivery moon and full lit up Milky Way. A full night sleep in our tiny timber tower closed out Day 4.

Day 5 Prischsenstadt/Schweinfurt/Nuremberg

Waking up in our snug chalet, we were growing accustomed to the ducking and weaving to avoid death by wood beam blunt force. We went down the hall for breakfast where I would fix my rice cakes and peanut butter in proud and brazen viewing. One other couple dined next to us. No word exchange was had. They were a perfect German carbon copy of us minus slob appearance and bootleg rice cakes. They chatted in witty cantor planning their day’s events. A world, language and culture apart but on deeper reflection, I would bet more similarities than differences. This conversation of mutual world’s intersecting would sadly never take place. Previous endeavors, we made lifelong friends and memories-ones in which we still discuss. The deficit of this reinforced the focus on us as a couple, a mutual exploration that required our engagement and decision making. In the long run, that’s all that matters.

After breakfast, we piled back into the smurf mobile to the riveting town of Schweinfurt. Other than having a Sixt center it served no use to us. We made our way into the industrial park of Schweinfurt finding after several Google map arguments. Trading the car for a safer option was one of our wisest decisions we made. For the same price, we were upgraded to a sleek black SUV Mercur automatic with heated seats and all the bells and whistles. Later on, we would encounter higher elevation with sharp altitude adjustments and the automatic transition would make all the difference.

We made our way back to Nuremberg for the day. We had been there 2 days ago primarily for the Germanisches Nationalmuseum. Today’s focus would be more exploration. We walked through the town, window shopping, exploring the Hauptmarket (Christmas market) https://www.christkindlesmarkt.de/en/ .We poked in the Grand Cathedral https://www.whatsoninnuremberg.com/frauenkirche/ and strolled along the canals. We meandered around the grounds of the Kaiserburg Imperial Palace and Castle https://www.kaiserburg-nuernberg.de/englisch/castle/index.htm which provided sweeping views at the top of Nuremberg’s skyline.

We went to Albrecht Durer Museum https://museums.nuernberg.de/albrecht-duerer-house/. Housed in his original residential dwelling, the art works are all replicas of the famous originals scattered all throughout world-class museums. Audio guide complemented the tour with interesting commentary that revealed much about his expansive life, his prolific art, and his contribution to Nuremberg and the art world. He is a revered honorary citizen of Nuremberg and an annual celebration is held to commemorate his artistic influence and art world impact. The museum had a very calming quiet feel to it. It was small and “do-able, making it one of the highlights for me.

As we were leaving the city, we made an impromptu decision to eat dinner at Zum Spiess Gesellen http://www.spiessgeselle.de/. Located adjacent to city hall (Rathause) it is a large German hall that was almost entirely empty as it was mid-afternoon. It had an extensive menu with interesting cuisine in an Excalibur King Henry the 8^th kind of way.

I was provided a gargantuan shish-kebob on a sword that dangled precariously over my plate. A colorful still life palate of protuberant vegetables, colossal tomatoes, girthy potatoes, slender zucchini slices, plentiful onions and other exotic items that swam in a buttery seasoned bath. Hubs assisted in the consumption of this gastronomic gift from the gardening Gods. His meal of pork medallions with spätzle was equally impressive and the cost was rather economical. The service was exquisite and the setting was very interesting. As we dined, we watched the sky darken to winter dusk and the task of Christmas decoration hanging was well under way outside. We left Nuremberg with full bellies, happy hearts and enlightened souls. 

Now there comes a moment in every Girl & Her Hubs, where the fun and games are put on hold and the suitcase is full of dirty garments. That is when the important pressing tasks must be addressed- laundry. Always an undertaking and a necessity, we make it a point to include in our jam packed schedule. We always try to pack less and smarter, and bring fewer things to avail the much needed space for that essential jug of peanut butter!

Just right outside Nuremberg we decided to combine our outing with this chore as we still had remaining motivation for this much needed duty. We pulled up to Eco Express Laundromat https://www.waschsalon.de/waschsalon-nuernberg/#undefined with a perfect spot right in front. We usually manage through this mundane responsibility struggling with foreign machinery, bubbling sudsy explosions, feisty dryer stealing Frenchmen, inefficient equipment, currency shortage or some other international incident that certainly has me on a laundry ban in many countries. But, Nuremberg- you are a gift from the laundry lords. All went seamless, cheap, easy, fast, no arguing, no nasty Frenchmen. What more could a gal ask for?  Feeling accomplished and free from laundry burden duty our clothes was clean and folded all within one hour. We returned in the dark of night for a final evening at Worner Schloss. The day was full of history, art, good food, walking, fresh air, a new car and clean clothes- all that is needed for a true vacation reset.

Day 6 Prischsenstadt/Erfurt/Neuhausen

Leaving Worner Schloss in the foggy cold of morning- I took a moment to appreciate the unique setting of Worner Schloss. I complain, I moan, I groan, but truthfully I am happiest when I can grumble about something. For 3 days, I was Princess in the Pea, nestled in a tower in a remote forest. I had a personal chauffer (Hubs) and all my needs were well cared for. Truly, there is not one thing (other than potential head dismemberment by low hanging timber) negative remark to make- so let’s move on.

Our itinerary had been well planned as previously stated but allowed for alternatives. The night before we dissected a map of Germany, our anticipated route and on a sporadic whim, reconfigured our plan. We headed north and then east during our 2.5 hour drive full of beautiful scenery. We drove through deep forestry and thick trees that canopied the dappled sunlight. We looped through tunnels spilling out on the other side of a mountain with altogether different weather systems as we exited out into the foggy re-entry. As the elevation ascended the temperature declined.

We eventually made it to Erfurt https://www.erfurt.de/ef/en/index.html  our stop for the afternoon to break up the 4 hour voyage to Neuhausen. Erfurt-a medieval city -is one of the oldest and preserved cities in Germany founded in 1300. Walking around the city center it was clear this was an eclectic neighborhood with masterful talented artisans diverse in different trades and skills. We made our way through the slender alley ways perusing the ceramics, paintings, metals and other textile crafts hand made in all the various shops. Each storefront displayed hand crafted goods tantalizing my shopping desire. But nothing completely allured either one of us in a way that warranted a purchase. We stopped for a light picnic lunch on an isolated bench in an active square. We noshed on our snacks and took in the midday sun and people watching. 

It was here in a monastery in Erfurt in 1507 that Martin Luther (the original) the father of Protestantism studied to become a monk and took his vows. He eventually became ordained and shaped the landscape of the Protestant religion as we now know it today. The monastery still exists and is an active Lutheran church. 

We walked all through the town eventually making our way through a market where smells of bratwurst sizzled on a hot grill and greedy hands sifted through cheaply made goods. The market led to massive gradient of steps and rising from the top housed a colossal cathedral that shadowed the market below. The Barfüsserkirche https://kunstmuseen.erfurt.de/km/de/angermuseum/haus/barfuesserkirche/index.html?pk_campaign=sm-gp&pk_kwd=km125882 is a cathedral that stands on the monastery grounds and dates back to the 14^th century. In 1944, during WW II it was hit by an aerial mine and resulted in much destruction.  Since then reconstruction and restoration has been an ongoing process. An entire section was enclosed with scaffolding with the echoing of high pitched construction tools and loud workers piercing the sanctity of the church during our visit.

We made our way back through the center of town. We had a long drive ahead of us with a new destination. This drive would be the most memorable with enchanting viewing to titillate the senses. We passed an ancient brick aqueduct that scaled high in the air and cut across the highway. Immense, green hilly fields and farmlands spread as far as the eye could see. We passed through small colorful villages through winding country roads. We encountered more plush forest and off in the distance were snowcapped mountains. The scenery changed every few minutes in dizzying backdrops. Earthy fertile fields spread the horizon as dusk began to settle. Eventually, a curtain of darkness fell upon us off in the distance church steeples illuminated under moonbeam provided celestial beacons of light, windmills too numerous to count swayed in unison providing a melodic and efficient energy system. 

Arriving in the thick blanket of darkness, we pulled into the impressive Schloss Purschenstein https://www.purschenstein.de/en/ . The imposing white stone castle stood out majestically peeking over the Ore Mountain range. A lengthy winding driveway led to a large chess setup complete with human size pawns and knights.  Schloss Purschenstein is a 5 star hotel on a vast campus containing an inviting indoor swimming pool, a sauna as well as spa packages.

We were greeted by a friendly, energetic young lady. Her English was similar to our German -nonexistent-but together we were able to gather some much needed helpful information. Our cozy room was a welcome sight for our tired, traveled bones. After getting settled, we dined at the hotel’s restaurant Remise https://www.purschenstein.de/en/restaurant/.

The dining room was an opulent hall with striking chandeliers, eclectic furnishings and unique antiques. We feasted on velvety, smooth pea soup and a curiously odd and off putting beet and garbanzo bean salad served as my disappointing main course. Hubs had some sort of fishy sea creature with unsettling eyeballs and a floppy tail that occupied the entire plate.

A rather stern and aggressive German couple sat in a disconcerting eavesdropping proximity with uncomfortable leering judgement. We scoffed back with harmless American arrogance. On this day, politeness had abandoned me as cultural differences were clearly defined and benignly displayed. A non-threatening snobbery was palpable in the dining room. However, the surroundings, food, service and scenery more than made up for this minor ego irritation.

Full, tired and deeply inadequately clothed for 26 degree weather we thrusted our bloated bodies up the steep incline back to the warmth of the heated room. On this night, the bright stars and glow of the moon penetrated through the shuttered window aiding in a much needed dream filled slumber.

Day 7 Neuhausen/Dresden

Snuggled up in layers of down comforter in the heated dark cocoon of our room, I awoke by alarm in a well-planned out idea to run. Running on vacation in a foreign land, has really been an exhilarating notion. I did this on the Seine River in Paris and the memories of the multisensory experience still linger with me today. The last few excursions prohibited this due to various contributing factors affecting safety and wellbeing. But, the stars could not have aligned any better to provide this once in a lifetime opportunity.

The receptionist had provided a convoluted map of trails, with even more confusing instructions. But, just the mere concept of running through this mountainous, alpine nirvana had already been well established in my stubborn noggin and not even the risk of hypothermia, injury or dismemberment could quell the need to pound my stumps on that frost laden pavement.

Glancing at the temperature on my phone at a frigid 26 degrees Fahrenheit did somewhat concern this Florida gal, however, mentally I was already there-which is half the battle. I proceeded to layer on half my suitcase contents, 3 of everything and improvised with bootleg ear warmers and other repurposed items all in an effort to thwart frostbite. I know a bit dramatic for those acclimated to these temps, but I was taking no chances in jeopardizing my ultimate experience.

Stepping out at 6am in the cool mountain air, I felt an overpowering sense of calm and anticipation bubble up in my circulatory system. It was an odd concoction of emotions from my amygdala signaling familiar biological responses in total contrast to this unknown land. But, my feet, heart and mind knew what to do and commanded the way. I ran in sync to my music at a dull volume so I could really take in the stillness of my environment. The town was still asleep and would be for many more hours. I paced myself down a steep downhill gradient knowing very well I would need to tackle this beast on the ascent much later. I made my way into the small village, passing by a peaceful waterway. White dewy frost glistened on the carpet of thick grass. The silence was only interrupted by the rhythmic pounding of my sneakers on the smooth asphalt.

I continued on passing by adorable cottages, rustic chalets and charming country homes. Grey swirls of hickory scented embers expelled smoke plumes in the air as faraway wind chimes echoed off in the distance. I took in my surroundings aware that every sensation I was experiencing was a profound memory in the making exclusive only to me. As I rounded the corner, I came across a series of colorful, animated Nutcracker sculptures. These playful figures steered the way towards the famous Nutcracker Museum http://nutcrackermuseum.com/Erstes_Nussknacker_Museum.html. Obviously closed at this early hour, I obtained some commemorative selfies with the decorative statues, knowing that our full agenda would prohibit any future visit.

As I approached my second mile, signs alerting me I was at the town’s edge brought me back to reality. I was well aware of a tightly packed roster and my run would need to be concluded soon. Growing concerned of getting lost and the unfamiliar terrain, I knew in my heart I had to turn around and head back. I looked up as I now was very low in the valley. Purschenstein Schloss our castle was perched up high a full 180 degrees above me.

I put it in second gear, grinding my running sneakers in the pebbly soil. I swung my arms in an effort to hasten my snail like speed. My pointless antics were laughable and exhaustive. I eventually made it to the top completing my run. This physical activity was much more than exercise. Having had my tuckus cemented in a heated car seat for 7 days the opportunity to penetrate the pavement in the fresh mountain morning air in complete solitude was a spiritual event that nourished my soul, enriched my heart and cleansed my mind.

Reinvigorated and revived, I ran back to the dark room with Hubs still in full REM. I manically shared with him my poetic ponderings as he rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned incessantly.

We ate in the same opulent dining room as the evening before with the same sneering characters from last night’s dinner. Unclear if it was our informal attire, our clearly American air or perhaps our imagination, but the gang here were not a friendly bunch, unlike all the others we had so far encountered. However, neither here nor there as it did not impact one second of our pleasure-only a mere observation.

Spread out were your run of the mill picked over variety of breakfast items. I am certainly not the best judge of cuisine but I did find at best mediocrity and dismal efforts as far as the breakfast offerings.

We piled in the ice covered car and spent a good 10 minutes using one of our credit cards scraping the frozen obscuring shield from the vehicle-a task that is not ever done in Florida. We drove through the thick forest. The leaves were displaying an autumn color spectrum range of burnt scarlet and rusty orange hues. Our drive was a progression of shared one lane quaint farmhouse towns to crowded 2 lane highways passing sprawling fields with lazy cows.

Eventually we made it to our destination for the day- Dresden https://www.britannica.com/place/Dresden-Germany. This charming city that lies on the Elbe River is also the capital of Saxony and dates back to the 1200’s. Before WW II it was thought to be one of the most beautiful cities due to its architecture and art. Sadly, during WW II it was completely destroyed during bombing raids that killed over 25,000 people. The town was completely leveled and then rebuilt.

We arrived in the eerily quiet city an hour and a half from our departure from the castle. We later learned it was Reformation Day https://www.timeanddate.com/holidays/germany/reformation-day . This is a national German holiday recognized in 9 states commemorating Martin Luther where he nailed his holy doctrine on the doors of a church in 1517 generating the start of religious change that ultimately created the Protestant Church. I learned all this only due to annoyance of all stores being closed. My shopping in Dresden would never turn out to be.

Many years ago we came to Dresden by train during a vacation to Prague. We had a well-planned out excursion to the Zwinger Museum https://www.der-dresdner-zwinger.de/en/home/  and to our disappointment on that snowy, blistery day we learned the museum was closed for renovations. We came up with an alternative plan, that day many years ago spending hours in a ceramics museum https://porzellansammlung.skd.museum/ perusing teacups. My body still aches with mental exhaustion reflecting back.

When choosing our city options we made it a point of including Dresden as it was a major disappointment missing out on this world class museum. Well, as luck would have it, and really in this day and age of travel, it is quite common, we learned during our late planning stages that the museum was still in renovations. However, fortunately, they had moved all of the major pieces into 3 rooms, making it a much more manageable viewing experience.

Due to the abbreviated art works, the entry rate was reduced in half as well. A welcoming and pleasant surprise as on day 7, Euro enthusiasm and constant money spending starts to chip away at the fun factor. The museum-although condensed down to 3 rooms is 3 rooms of truly the most important art works. The ticket is labeled as The Old Masters and for good reason. Vibrant large scale paintings of Raphael, Botticelli, Vermeer and Durer surround one in the 3 large open spaces. Every age and cultural demographic of individuals were present, pacing around the priceless images with full interest and fascination. It was a universal appreciation expressed in multiple different languages but all mutually fascinated of the gift of art. These treasured riches allow one to peek into a world from long ago, pre-photo days. This is the only visual documentation we have of ancient worlds long ago forgotten.

We left the art museum requiring a bit of refueling. We found our way to a Starbucks. It was very crowded and apparently the popular hangout –as it appeared no one was in a level of urgency to leave and quite committed to their spot. I caught up momentarily on my documentation here- now a good 5 days behind. This delay was intentional as I wanted to truly stay in the moment and stay engaged. But, there is a fine line where the memories start to fade, slipping like sand in an hourglass, little by little until the recollection is so muddied. It becomes a hazy extraction of the event that actually occurred.

Our day was coming to a close but from the get-go we knew we would try to find where we had eaten on our last excursion to Dresden many years ago. Nothing short of stellar investigation skills, Hubs located the restaurant Singah Thai. Our meal-somewhere wedged between lunch and dinner, the restaurant was almost entirely empty. Strangely, we were placed in the same seats that we had before- a constant eerie reflection all day tethered between past and present played hopscotch in our jumbled brain.

Having missed a meal, my tummy grumbled as an audible reminder. Hubs had once again a fish platter that dominated the circumference of the plate from end to end, accompanied by a heaping mound of rice and a colorful variety of vegetables. In comparison, I had simple vegetable fried rice. The meal later would provide us both with queasiness that would inhabit any Thai European future outings.

As we drove through the dark, cold villages, only illuminated by moonlight, we realized it was Halloween evidenced by the pint sized local children darting through the autumn darkness displaying their animated pageantry. We eventually made it back to our castle retreat for an early evening.

Day 8 Neuhaussen/Meissen/Leipzig

Awakening in the dark and cold, I pondered another mountain run. But, as my feet paddled on the heated floors, my tummy reminded me of the fried rice the day before. Still queasy and unsettled, I listened and abandoned any further running reverie in this hilly haven.

We had one final breakfast in the ornate dining room, packed up our belongings and said farewell to Purschenstein Schloss. Driving back through the forest, the dapple light of morning sun popped through the thick wall of trees.  We then passed through yet more open fields as far as the eye could see of windmills. We eventually made it to our destination for the afternoon-the Saxon city of Meissen https://www.britannica.com/place/Meissen-Germany. Just slightly Northwest of Dresden, it also lies on the Elbe River. Established in 929 from King Henry I, the city is known for its famous Porcelain manufactured in Meissen in the local factory.

As we made our way via auto through Meissen, one can’t help but gaze in awe at the fortress (Albrechtsburg Castle) built on a rock that towers over the Elbe River and valley below. We parked the car and walked up the many steps through the Obere Promenadenweg (Upper Promenade Path) that led to the Albrechtsburg Castle and Cathedral https://www.albrechtsburg-meissen.de/en/meissen-albrechtsburg-castle/history/.  All along the walking route stopping to gawk at the breathtaking views over the Elbe River valley.

We made our way to the top where a courtyard contained all the most important buildings. The blistery winds and cold air forced us to make our way into the Albrechtsburg Castle. We found ourselves eyeing a welcoming coffee shop with a cozy table in front of an enticing fireplace Schlosscafe- https://www.schlosscafe-meissen.de/willkommen.html. We dined on hot, spicy pumpkin soup that warmed our bellies and soothed our hunger. We stared at the active hearth popping and sparking in comforting composition. We finished our soup and began to remove our layers as sweat beads surfaced on our foreheads in unison. We scooted our chairs further and further cursing the previously beloved fire. Our body temps rose at a fastidious pace bringing on an intense claustrophobic, impending doom sensation. Eventually, we sprung out of our now inferno seats, rushing to the waitress in haste as fiery hell heat encapsulated us.

We went back into the cold air adjusting to the temperature discrepancies. We made our way to the Dom Zu Meissen https://dom-zu-meissen.de/start.html – Meissen Cathedral. An impressive, massive Protestant church dating back from the 1500’s that resurrected during the Counter Reformation. We toured the space, poking around all the nooks and crannies.

We made our way outside to head back; we noticed a glass elevator of sorts. We took this down, much easier than the plethora of steps we took up. We stepped out of the apparatus, excited and giddy. A woman greeted us and we waved bye at her not realizing until later she was there to collect the Euro for this “attraction”.  Ooops.

We piled in the car as the sky began to turn murky grey. We made our way through more farm house towns peppered on immense golden fields. Conveniently arriving in Leipzig as most were leaving, aided in landing a killer parking spot next to our hotel we would be in for only one night.

Leipzig https://www.britannica.com/place/Leipzig-Germany was strategically planned in the scheduling of events as were in close proximity of our final destination-Berlin.  We checked into the very luxurious 5 star rated Steigenberger Hotel  https://www.steigenberger.com/en/hotels/all-hotels/germany/leipzig/steigenberger-grandhotel-handelshof%20?utm_medium=bing_ads&utm_source=bing&utm_campaign=handelshof_leipzig&utm_content=shr. Stepping into the striking lobby, I was appreciative for this bit of indulgence. Our travel days were numbering down and this hotel provided many comforts that had been lacking. We made our way to our spacious room with some rather impressive amenities. We played with the electric controlled shades and took in the darkening city view. The hotel was situated squarely in the center of the city with convenient proximity to everything we had on our check list. The weather had turned to wet, blustery and windy.

I took a hot bath as Hubs snored away in the darkened room. But, a short nap it would be as we had a show that evening. We dressed in our finest clothes and headed out in the rainy nightfall.

We found ourselves seeking food and warmth and ultimately landed in the Central Cafebar https://www.cafecentral-leipzig.de/. Apparently a hotspot, it was crowded and lively and bustling with activity. We sat in a cozy table window side. Hubs had a club sandwich, in which he pulled layers of contents off in a finicky, toddler way. Each item he extracted he shoved with annoyance to the side. In contrast, I feasted on a cheese crepe that checked all the boxes-an almost impossible task these days. We ate in haste as to not be tardy for our next event- The Opera-Elixer of Love https://www.oper-leipzig.de/en/programm/the-elixir-of-love/78751. 

We took the short walk fighting for equal umbrella space. We made our way to the lit up Opera House https://www.oper-leipzig.de/en/. We purchased these tickets many months ago on a German website with very little knowledge of what if anything we had obtained. We took our seats as the theater lights dimmed and an animated production kept us amused wholly for 3 hours. The singing, dancing, costumes stage and orchestra were mesmerizing. The translation was in German and the singing in Italian. This never inhibits us from wholeheartedly absorbing the scope of entertainment that is offered. The entire evening’s events were extraordinary and well worth the effort made on the front end, pre-travel.

We walked arm in arm sheltered by the umbrella as my teeth loudly chattered as we shimmied the short distance back to the hotel. I cursed myself as my mind flashed back a week ago during packing- tossing out scarves, gloves and a winter jacket to accommodate my rice cakes and protein shakes. My one and only regret would be my unfortunate and unwise selection of apparel. Back in the warmth of the room, we nodded off to sleep as our minds hummed operatic melodies.

Day 9 Leipzig/Berlin

The next morning, I arose in the darkness and made my way to the gym. An interesting array of exercise equipment was nestled in the quiet basement. I hopped on the treadmill, growing bored then migrated to the elliptical, which proved even more lackluster. I drifted over to some vibrating machine. As my teeth rattled and my face grew numb, I pushed it full throttle in amusement. This gym was my sand box and I was embracing my solitude. However, disinterest and paresthesia settled in as my vertebras realigned- I decided it best to wrap up this failure of a workout attempt. No more cardio challenges would be approached. The remaining reserve of vigor would be on standby for much needed museum stamina.

Defeated, but partially amused by my post gyration activities, I returned to the room to pack up and prepare for the day. We headed out of the hotel in search of food. We settled on an establishment called Kaffeehaus Riquet http://www.riquethaus.de/. A beautiful art nouveau building with elaborate elephant heads displayed on the exterior of the building appeared quite inviting. A menu was provided by a coquettish waitress. I studied the options with very few choices available. I eventually settled on a crepe. As the waitress took my order, she made a scornful face and shook her head no. She proceeded to tell me in perfect English “this is not delicious, you cannot order it.” With no other options available other than a salad at 930 in the morning, I opted to starve and scowl in obstinate annoyance. The Hubs slopped up his runny eggs with flaky rolls with exaggerated eagerness that was frankly irritating. I appreciated her honesty but feel she may not understand how low my bar of food pleasure is. I later nurtured my deprived gut with the solace of a decaying and week old melted protein bar.

We walked through the city swiftly as we remained on Hubs strict timeline. I desperately yearned for some retail therapy, specifically in the variety of crappy magnets and ridiculous souvenirs. I know it is a waste of money and bogus garbage but it does provide me with such a ludicrous level of happiness. Well, as stated before, the money Gods were looking out for me and ensuring that pesky student loan will be paid upon my return home, because not one item was purchased in Leipzig.

Leipzig is the birth place of the famous musical composer Johann Sebastian Bach https://www.britannica.com/biography/Johann-Sebastian-Bach . Everything in the city is a tribute to him. The city itself has a very different feel to it –something of a Viennese vibe. It was very different from everything else we had seen so far- architecturally, gastronomically and overall, lacking a German essence, but aesthetically pleasing all the while.

Leipzig was heavily affected by World War II and according to historical records all Jews were eradicated. The city itself was partially destroyed by 1,000 tons of firebombs. There are monuments throughout the city center honoring the lives lost. To be completely transparent here, I knew very little of this while I was there, it was only after when I am piecing everything together that it truly all comes cohesive in my mind. Any research that I have done prior does not seem to truly settle in the cortex of my brain until I have actually experienced it. This is in complete contrast to the Hubs approach as he does widespread exploration as he painstakingly constructs the foundation of any one of our travel adventures.

Trying to make the most of our limited time in Leipzig and absorb the real spirit of the city we toured the Bach Museum https://www.bachmuseumleipzig.de/de/bach-museum. Entering in error the last room of the museum first, we interrupted the remnants of an English Tour ending. Approximately 40 distracted and restless tourists, talked loudly, interrupting the tour guide. They all had audio guides for English and therefore made it impossible for us to obtain one as no more were available. They exited the room in brash disruption, tainting what should have been a pleasant introduction to the life of Johann Sebastian Bach. Eventually, they exited and we found our way to the start of the museum as his life was displayed in chronological order.  The museum was interesting and informative and we moved through it rather quickly.

We made our way back to the car as the traffic into the city was staggering. We made our way to our final destination –Berlin. We made it into the city beating rush hour traffic.

We swung by the hotel we would be staying for the next 2 days-Hotel Maritime https://www.guestreservations.com/maritim-hotel-berlin/booking?msclkid=c773f8822911160855b6a54fb1c70318 and quickly checked in. The large somewhat tacky hotel was stacked with tour buses. There was a convention going on for a pharmaceutical company and the entire lobby was decorated with garish neon green advertisements. We were given entirely erroneous information from our first greeting including a false breakfast inquiry, map instructions and other important details that after fact checking were completely incorrect.

We needed to return the car. This vehicle had truly served its purpose and without it, the ability to explore with complete freedom would have been impossible. This element of autonomy combined with a structured semi “flexible” plan is really only possible with the addition of a car. Having said all that- the remainder of our days would be walking only, no more heated seats or arguing with the Google map. The rental car hand over had always been a burdensome task that caused us both some concern. But, the actual return, even in the heart of the city, went surprisingly smooth.

Carless and fancy free, we roamed the wet streets. The damp air pelted tiny rain drops randomly as the last few remaining moments of sunlight faded into darkness. The city was alive with throngs of people, sidewalks piled with people swinging in and out of store doorways while segments of conversations hung in the air.

We walked through the bustling Kurfurstendamm- one of the most famous streets in Berlin. It is lines with cafes, shops, and hotels. Before the unification of Berlin in 1989, it was the leading commercial boulevard in West Berlin.

We continued to make our way back to the hotel. Hubs and I were in deep conversation, as I entered the thick glass revolving door. I heard the sound first before the searing intense pain shot through my face. My face met complete total resistance as the revolving glass door was not revolving. My nose took much of the brunt as well as my ego. In the distance, I heard a gaggle of foreign female laughter directed right at me.

I grabbed my face as tears welled in my eyes. I saw stars in front of my face and feared something essential was forever damaged. As I cradled my face, unable to move, Hubs inquired “Why did you do that?”

Torn between glaring at him or comforting my soul, I made my way to the entrance of the hotel choosing an alternative safer doorway option. I somehow managed to make my way to the room, curled into a fetal position and howled like an injured feral cat. I rocked myself in Rain Man fashion, suffering PTSD every time I touched my tender snout. I took the last of my American Tylenol and gave myself a silent pep talk.

After a little bit, I was back to my baseline with caution. I will never, ever underestimate the strength and power of those doors. In the scheme of things, it was a minor event. However, even now-weeks later as I recall these painful details, my nostrils flare with melancholy memory and nasal neurosis.  

We decided what better to relieve misery and a battered sinus cavity then food! We went to the hotel’s restaurant M https://www.maritim.com/en/hotels/germany/hotel-berlin/restaurants-bars/maritim-restaurant. We sat at a cozy table by the window that overlooked the rainy, quiet street. I had simply divine gluten free, vegetarian lasagna. The warm, tango sauce soothed my battered ego and bruised face. Hubs had a magnificent mound of Wiener schnitzel, golden fried with crispy roasted potatoes. It was a hearty meal that dually served as comfort food. We ventured back to the room to sleep my soreness away

Day 10 Berlin

Waking up on our last full day in Berlin, I grew sad it would all soon be over- just a distant memory. We made our way to the great dining hall because we were told the night before we had breakfast with our stay. We approached the hostess stand and saw a bounty of foods, an omelet station, a chef with a great tall white hat, fruits and pastries lined the long tables, all waiting for our eager, empty belly. But, it was not to be. We were misinformed and for just a mere $30 Euros each one could feast on these delicacies. The concierge Gaerheart was the only saving grace to this hotel that provided some helpful instructions and a handy umbrella.

We walked through the silent streets as rain drizzled on us. We were in search of food, substance, nutrition. We already shunned our $60 Euro breakfast with no alternative options at this point. We continued to go further and further until finally a Turkish place peaked Hubs interest. This would be his finest meal. For 5 Euros he had a whole breakfast complete with coffee, scrambled eggs, rolls, and feta cheese. There were no menu options available for me, sadly. I nibbled on his garnished cucumber and hijacked his salty cheese as Hubs munched in oblivion as flaky pastry morsels created a carbohydrate cascade of crumbs.

We made our way back to our starting point which was adjacent to our final destination the Gemaldegalerie https://www.smb.museum/en/museums-institutions/gemaeldegalerie/home.html. This museum held a special place in our heart. We had come to Berlin 13 years ago and stayed for 10 days. We got to know this city very well. We both felt not much had to be seen as we had absorbed so much over a decade ago. But, this museum was one place we felt needed extra special attention. We arrived just a few minutes before opening and a long line trailed along the entrance doors of eager art lovers just like us. As we entered the building, nothing seemed familiar. I racked my aging mind trying to flip through my rolodex of memories- but got nothing. So, for me- this experience was fresh and new with only an underlying fondness attached to it.

We made our way through the inviting gallery rooms. We used an audio guide to aid in the details. The artworks were simply exquisite-Botticelli, Titian, Raphael and numerous other great masterpieces. After a few hours, hunger began to beckon. We made our way to the café with ample provisions available. I channeled my own artistic talents making a still life platter of gourmet selections at their luscious salad bar. Hubs had a hearty bowl of piping hot tomato soup with a sweet treat. We reviewed what we had seen and strategically planned our route for the rooms we still needed to see. We spent another 2 hours perusing the stunning splendors. We left feeling completely fulfilled in our experience.

We took the short walk back to the hotel. It was our last evening there, the end had come, the finale. We would be leaving in the early morning and our German Extravaganza would be over. A bit of sadness settled in my gut but I felt we had truly captured the essence and spirit of Germany in our short 11 days.

To celebrate our last evening, we dined at Amrit https://www.amrit.de/. During our whole stay in Germany we had yearned for yummy Indian food. This last meal would be our only opportunity. We walked several blocks in a trendy neighborhood. The quiet streets speckled with shadows from swaying tree branches and swirling leaves.

We arrived at Amrit to find a large, lively crowd in contrast to the tranquil street we had just come from. We were immediately greeted and ushered to a comfy seat in close proximity to my neighbors on each side. The odors of curry and Tandoori flooded my senses and reminded me it had been a while since I had eaten. With a 10 hour flight ahead of us in the morning, I needed to be mindful of my choices. We were given an English menu and dined on spicy grilled Paneer cheese, with pungent rice and creamy sauces. We soaked in the last final moments accepting the conclusion of our German Holiday was imminent.

We reflected back on our favorite moments. As we walked back hand in hand in the cold, damp Berlin air we knew we had created some very special memories in which will last a lifetime. Germany is a fairyland of physical natural beauty; from its earthy farm fields to its alpine mountain tops its bounty of splendors is endless. The storybook German villages that captured my heart to the bigger cities rich with art and history, this country offers it all. The people are strong and stoic, powerful and kind, generous and staunch. Traveling always reignites thirst and knowledge unlocking foreign worlds in which one never knew. These 11 days reconnecting with Hubs, myself and my world around me was much needed. I feel my soul, heart, mind, body and spirit enriched from all that I have seen, learned, loved, felt, tasted, smelled and touched during my brief escape in the beloved wonderland of Germany.   

Join A Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase in Warsaw, Poland in March 2020-its where all the “cool kids” are going these days.

~B&F~

Argentina March 2019

Top 10 Highlights  *In Sequential Order:

1. Hotel in Buenos Aries-AQ Tailored Suites
2. Tigres Day Trip/ Boat Ride
3. Rigoletto Opera at Teatre Colon
4. Telmo Street Market
5. Nano Stern Concert
6. Bike Ride in Buenos Aires
7. Selvajie Lodge in Iguazu
8. Iguazu Falls Day Trip
9. Horseback Ride in Iguazu
10. The Argentinian People/Food/Culture

Day 1

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Hola’ -from sunny and spectacular Buenos Aires, Argentina- the “Paris of the South”. I am sharing this travel full of magnificent detail and information in the goal for you -the reader to feel as if you are experiencing this as well. It is not meant to be read in one sitting (however, it certainly can be) especially if you are a person with a short attention span. Additionally, this is written post trip – different than my usual writing style, allowing me more time to let it settle and provide a more cohesive product that will keep you engaged.

This edition of A Girl, Her Hubs and a Suitcase has been brought to you by the warm, sexy tantalizing continent of South America- Buenos Aires, Argentina to be exact. Argentina has been on the wish list a while with its colorful allure provoking curious cultural fascination for both Hubs and I. After delightfully exhausting most of the European countries, just as the Argentinian Peso was tanking we decided to pull the travel trigger.

A GIRL AND HER HUBS TAKE ON ARGENTINA

The concept of exploring outside of Europe is not unique to us, as we have been to Asia, Russia, some of the Celtic nations, Turkey and last year even Africa. However, Argentina was a fresh idea, a new locale and an absolute unfamiliar travel path. Barely any time change, an easy flight and the Hubs having taken Spanish in the 9th grade basically deeming him fluent in the desired language-it sealed the deal.

We arrived in Argentina in the early morning hours via Panama City, Panama-an 8 hour straight southern dip into South America, passing under the Equator. A pleasant night flight filled sleep laden with tango filled melodies-left me rested upon arrival. The inconsequential 1 hour time difference was barely noticed and dually appreciated as the absence of jet lag and that all too familiar zombie apocalypse feeling was avoided as well.

We eventually made our way to an Uber in route to our Hotel. As I sat in the backseat of the Uber, I took in my surroundings on this congested Argentinian Super Highway. Urban high-rises stacked in graffiti laced concrete one after the other for miles. Driving in the quiet vehicle with no shared language (sadly, Hubs 9th grade Spanish had failed him to hold any conversation other than numbers up to 9) became an all too familiar theme. I dozed off and on in the solitude of silence- a certain freedom of not having to make small talk. This is purely business. You keep my back seat clean and pay me- I will deliver you safely. This unsaid agreement works well for me.  However, in the world of Uber and travel as well-much can be exchanged without the distraction of words. Ahhhh, that is deep. Marinate in it a moment. There will be more of these introspective nuggets peppered throughout this labor of love. Consider it a bonus with my gift of masterful penmanship.

We eventually made it to our residence for the next 6 days- AQ Tailored Suites https://www.aqsuites.com/. This 10 story slender hotel is modern, clean, and comfortable lacking really nothing. It is on a busy tree lined street bustling with activity but once inside the luxuries of this establishment make it easy to erase the chaos of the city. The hotel is situated in the neighborhood of Recoleta- an upscale, posh neighborhood- with European grandeur and old world historical architecture. The buildings and ornate designs are wonderfully preserved as if they were stored in a time capsule.

Carla, the receptionist at the front desk became our Buenos Aires advisor on all things. Arming us with a map, some helpful advice and dinner suggestions we made our way to our inviting suite. A spacious room with a kitchenette and terrace welcomed us. As it was now midday, the gravity of travel started to weigh down. We pulled back the heavy thick curtains to block out the intense sun. The cushiony linens and large king bed cradled us to sleep for a few much needed hours.

BEDROOM OF AQ TAILORED SUITES

Awakening to the sounds of afternoon downtown hustle and hunger brought us back to reality. We awakened to a renewed energy. We dressed and made our way to explore first our internal surroundings and then later our external ones. There is infinity pool located on the roof top of the building- the 10th floor. Situated next door subsequently is The Holocaust Museum, which is now in renovations- sadly, this impeded what would be a stellar city view from the pool. Dipping my toe into the frigid water, I knew my bathing suit would stay unused at least for this portion of the trip.

ROOF TOP POOL

We set out to explore our beautiful neighborhood. We were warned numerous times even prior to leaving for Argentina about safety concerns, phone stealing and other security worries. I was prepared for the worst, having already been a victim of theft on other trips. Fortunately, there was never a moment during the time in Buenos Aires that I ever felt any kind of danger. I stayed alert -as I would similarly in New York City or my hometown of Tampa, Florida.  We walked through the busy streets as the sun began to set over the Buenos Aries sky, a magnificent hue of flamingo pink. We sat on a park bench in Plaza Lavelle. This park has historic significance named after Juan Lavelle one of Argentina’s revolutionary heroes. Impressive, centuries old trees that date back to the 1800’s, poignant monuments dot the park commemorating lives lost tragically through terrorism.

We continued walking through the downtown, amazed at the architecture similar to Paris. Having just been there in September, it was all still very fresh in my mind. Argentina has a strikingly European charm to it. The familiarity is an elusive moving target- a déjà vu aspect of parallel worlds in a geographical juxtaposition. As I made these mental abstract connections, hunger began to emerge.

Our dining selection was driven by the helpful advice from the hotel Aires Crilolles http://www.airescriollos.com.ar/ -an Equestrian themed Parilla (Grill) adorned with Gaucho paraphernalia. A smoky, meaty odor permeated the air. Carlos, our waiter greeted us with an Argentinian elegance enthusiastically guiding us with our menu selections. Hubs chose a fried pastry so poetically described that when an empanada was placed in front of him-he was shocked. However, later on he admitted it was the most delicate and scrumptious empanada he has ever had. This was followed by a pink salmon with exquisite geometrical seared charcoal marks. For yours truly, I had Proveleta http://www.asadoargentina.com/provoleta-grilled-provolone-cheese/ which is grilled Provolone cheese. It is a gooey, decadent disc of provolone – addictively delicious, unique in texture and flavor. It was served on a bed of arugula and sun dried tomatoes. Being pizza free for 3 years, this is as close to pizza as I could get- and I was pleased. We also split a tortilla omelet which is a highly complex potato omelet- incredibly hearty and fulling meal. Goody bag in hand- which sadly, would never be consumed again-we contently walked back to the hotel under the Buenos Aires moonlight to rest for the next full day ahead of us.

Day 2

We awoke to the energetic sounds of the city as warm sunlight seeped in the dark room.  If you follow my travels, you will sense a pattern that with every trip comes some sort of yours truly shower mayhem. This one really was such an amateur move that I was even shocked by my madness. As I turned the shower thermometer gauge I struggled to find any warmth. I cursed and bellowed in misery at my neighbors in the room next door. I vowed to share my experience on Yelp and beyond. How dare my warm water privileges be taken from me? Moments later, after I gave up in futility opting for a bird bath-Hubs crooned out his shower was divine.

Later, I learned I just needed to turn the nob the other direction. I sent out silent apologies to my neighbors, hotel (and Hubs) deleting my imaginary Yelp review as well. Other than that, the shower remained luxurious with no other (user) malfunctions. As we are discussing South American plumbing here, I need to add this very interesting tidbit. The toilet flush “swirl” below the equator goes counter clockwise-verses the “swirl” above the equator. I experienced this fascination in Africa last year and have been entertained each time nature calls. If ever below the equator, I encourage you to check this out.

I want to add in here how satisfied I was with the hotel AQ Tailored Suites. All of the staff were very customer service oriented, focused on attention to detail, extremely industrious and especially helpful. Previous trips to other countries; I encountered a dismissive indifference at times. The fact that their quality of service was demonstrated each and every time (which were many) that we approached the front desk for help-was extremely welcoming and completely appreciated. Many small details not overlooked included the exceptional maid service, the accommodating front desk, and even providing me with soy milk after I inquired about it just once. It is these small, meaningful niceties that really made the difference for me.

We dressed and took advantage of the breakfast provisions included in the stay. After breakfast we walked to Starbucks and then later towards the main plaza to meet a Buenos Aires Free Walks walking tour https://www.buenosairesfreewalks.com/. These free excursions (tips are welcome and encouraged) are always a great way to start out a trip. It helps in getting to understand the basics of a city and sets a great foundation in which to go from and most importantly- on a budget. We always try to do this in whatever city we can-if it is available.

We met the large gathering that was then split into 2 groups-English and Spanish speaking. Our tour guide Dominque ushered us under the Teatro Colon awning http://www.teatrocolon.org.ar/en/the-theatre as the rain began to pelt down. She went into detail about the history of the theater-this Buenos Aires cherished treasure that dates back to 1908. On our Day 3-there will be more to say about this theater.

      From there we traversed neighborhoods stopping at the 7 – 8 historical sites included in the tour. We viewed the statue of Don Jose de San Martin, the liberator of Argentina; the tour guide weaved in the emotional and tragic tale of his life and his contributions to this region. We walked briskly with the group, scurrying to keep up with her as we viewed embassies and ornate palaces.

Dominique provided us with a lengthy and passionate discussion about the Malvines/Falklands War back in 1982. Growing up during this crisis (both her and I) she was closely connected to the upheaval it caused her country. As the morning sun dappled on the emerald lawn in front of us we formed a semicircle around the monument and she chronicled this tumultuous time.

We ended the tour at “El Gran Gomero” the 200+ year old gum tree- the oldest in all of Buenos Aires. It’s labyrinth of branches stretched like tentacles, long and obtrusive- claiming its territory with pride. As the group congregated around the impressive tree, a seductive couple emerged in a Tango entwined dance. The duo stomped and swayed in sensual melody as the group snapped photos and clapped in delight. Seconds later the couple forcefully positioned a collection hat in our faces diluting what we had thought was a genuine moment to a bit staged and contrived. However, if it had not been for this moment- no Tango in a city known for its Tango would have been seen. I know- here is where you the reader gasp (insert gasp). It happens- Amsterdam- went a whole trip and successfully avoided what most go there for (and I am not talking Tulips). Similarly, other trips the same. Venice- no Gondola ride (speed boat instead). When something becomes too touristy- it weakens the original allure for us.

As we parted ways, we realized 4 hours had passed on this tour. Feet tired, bellies empty, bladders full and brain drain- we looked for the nearest spot to rest our feet. An inviting restaurant with outdoor seating was conveniently positioned right in front of us- La Panera Rosa http://lapanerarosa.com.ar/- no doubt tourist trap city. The service was awful, the food heartburn inducing overpriced plates of regret. It was presented deceptively beautiful- a curious textured quinoa burger that lacked flavor for me and for Hubs an odd unfamiliar form of meat on a roll. We asked numerous times for napkins as food drippings fell on us and ultimately resorted to my emergency tissue collection. But, it provided us with a nice view, a respite for our sore feet and allowed us to reenergize for more exploring.

LUNCH AT LAPANERAROSA

Our next stop was Recoleta Cemetery https://turismo.buenosaires.gob.ar/es/atractivo/cementerio-de-la-recoleta. This cemetery that dates back to 1822 is not just any old burial ground. It is a maze of marble mausoleums rich in art nouveau and lavish details and is one of the most visited sites in Buenos Aires. Eva Peron (“Don’t cry for Me, Argentina”) is buried here as well- although it is in a deeply fortified crypt which we were not able to locate. As I meandered from tomb to tomb, essentially miniature mansions for the elite to spend eternity in- I thought heavily about the individual whose souls lie there. It was a sobering thought as I passed by people leaning lazily on these sacred tombs facetiming a friend. The juncture of old and new intersecting would be a common theme on this trip.

RECOLETA CEMETERY

We walked back to our hotel rehashing the day’s events as we dodged pedestrian, bicycle, car and bus traffic. The tiled sidewalks- a mine field for any vulnerable ankle as potholes, missing tiles and loose, slippery stone required constant attention. Still full from the overpriced lunch, we opted for some rather disappointing sorbet/ice cream at Freddo https://freddo.com.ar. Sleep came easily this night from a full, fun day of Argentinian activity.

Day 3

Sunshine was on the menu for our third day in Argentina.  After breakfast, on a whim we chose to take a day excursion to the town of Tigres- https://www.welcomeargentina.com/tigre/outings.html  (pronounced Tiger). An Uber took us there passing vibrant green parks abundant in runners, cyclists, and people out enjoying a sunny Saturday. Just 17 miles outside the city, one is transported to a French summer day in a Monet impressionist painting. This segment of Buenos Aires lies on the Parana Delta of the Lujan River. The Uber dropped us off at the end of the town at the Museo de Arte Tigres http://www.mat.gov.ar  which was not yet to open for another hour. Continuing with the theme of spontaneity we decided to go on a river cruise. We chose 1 hour due to our time constraints and budget.  We paid approximately $40 (USD) for this fun activity. The boat was medium sized and was operated by a captain. There were no other attendants on the boat with us. With the roar of the engine we were off, wind in the hair, sun in the face with nowhere to go and nothing to do for the next hour. The river was a cornucopia of boats, kayaks, canoes, yachts, and other water craft vehicles.All vessels played nice together in the murky brown waters.

We passed boat houses, clearly that have been there for generations, some most certainly had seen better days.  Nostalgic smells of wet earth and honey suckle transported me back to my youth at summer camp. Mega yachts and speed boats caused mini tsunamis for unfortunate paddle boarders. The vegetation was profuse and invasive.  As we approached the dock with the completion of our river voyage, the museum was in my peripheral vision.

BOAT COMPANY

On the veranda of the top floor, sweeping panoramic views of the River below occupy the visual landscape. By this time, the sun was penetrating down on us, illuminating the brown opaque Riverbed. Adjacent to the River is a glorious River walk that spans the island for miles. Waterside tables occupy the sidewalks as eager diners take in the luxurious scenes.

We walked for a while deciding what to eat for lunch. This topic is the majority of many heated disputes. But, after nearly 25 years together, the Hubs has managed to deal with my finicky vegetarian ways and has conceded over time. It is easier for him to appease me than to hear my irritating contention. I will admit, when I do defer to him for meal decisions it is always a memorable and enjoyable experience.

We agreed upon lunch at Tigres Boat Club https://tigre-boat-club.business.site. We sat on the large veranda listening to the sing-song chirping of the birds as the sun streamed through the trees. Our seasons are flipped, in the United States, spring has just begun. Argentina is holding onto to the last few days of summer as fall is now in progress. The weather was perfect for eating outside. We sat quietly watching cyclist wiz on by, in contrast to the boats lazily gliding down the River.  Hubs had a salmon stuffed with a substantial amount of spinach and shrimp, 2 notable portions that left him as stuffed as the salmon. A vegetable risotto was consumed by me. We lingered taking in the beauty of the day, weather and scenery.

After lunch, we continued to stroll down the river walk. Row boats staged on take-off ramps resembled famous painter Thomas Eakins drawings and his fondness for row boats. As we continued on, an amusement park ripe with activity was off in the distance. This small seaside village certainly had something for everyone. As we concluded our time there and went to meet our Uber- I feel the need to pause here and truly give a loud shout out to Argentina’s Uber drivers. Uber transport was our primary source of transportation. We always appreciate the local flare that Uber brings to our trips whether it is domestic or international. Even though none of our drivers shared the same language, they provided safe passage for us to our destination and were ridiculously cheap!

Our most expensive Uber ride in Buenos Aires was $11 (USD) and that was from the airport which was a 45 minute drive. Most of the rides averaged $3-5! This really is a demonstration of their economy, their failing Peso and a true crisis. In retaliation to the low fares of the Uber- the Taxi drivers (according to what little was translated back to us) were lashing out at this competition- some violently by smashing in windows of Uber vehicles. The Uber driver explained this to me in broken English as the window remained open the entire ride. I understand commerce and the threat of someone’s financial livelihood. However, as the consumer- it was an awkward place to be in. I will delve more into what we witnessed regarding their currency, the Peso and some other financial economic concerns for their country later on in this blog.

As I reflected in catnap style in the passenger seat, I rewinded back the day’s events- what an amazing day it had been-sun, fun, art and good food. But, the day was not yet over. Arriving back at the hotel, we dressed for the evening’s exciting events- a night at the opera- Rigoletto.  The Teatro Colon http://www.teatrocolon.org.ar/en/the-theatre -the same theater our tour began yesterday was the venue for this evening’s opera. The inside of the building is as grand as the outside. Arched golden doorways and stained glass prepare one for the opulence that awaits in the seating area. We were perched in the 4th row and as the thick, red curtain was lifted, we knew a dramatic evening was in store for us.

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

We have seen numerous productions of the opera Rigoletto. However, this production was pretty outstanding. The costumes, the scenery, the live orchestra and the singer’s intense vocal range made this version the most memorable. After the show, we walked back in the darkness of night back to the hotel- I was having an internal deliberation of which part of this day was the most notable. Upon arrival, I was still undecided- as it had all been noteworthy- every moment, every second of this day.

Day 4

St. Patrick’s Day/Hub’s Birthday

This day was hot and steamy. It was also St. Patrick’s Day and if you follow this blog- then you know- this Celtic day of celebration is also- the Hubs birthday. Venturing out in full St. Patty’s Day pride on this Sunday morning the city was still asleep, which made my leprechaun regalia even that much more obnoxious. We walked for a long time, it seemed like miles to Starbucks. We walked through a gritty section in need of a good cleaning. All the stores were still closed but the storefronts in many were there for viewing. We apparently were in the guitar capital of Buenos Aires as we passed store after store of music and guitar goods. The Hubs- who is a guitar aficionado sighed and panted at the wooden acoustic beauties. I promised he would have an opportunity to visit these places later- but as fate would have it, we never did go down that street again. This was fortunate for us and our fellow future airline passengers for we would most likely be bopping down the aisle of a Copa Airlines 747 thumping some unhappy travelers’ noggins.

After a quick respite in Starbucks we set off for the Mercado San Telmo http://mercadosantelmo.com.ar/. This open air street market, located in the oldest neighborhood in Buenos Aires which occupies blocks upon blocks every Sunday from 10am -4pm. This event was the highlight for me in Buenos Aires.

SAN TELMO STREET MARKET

Uninterrupted shopping for absolutely everything and anything you can think of with nowhere else to go and nothing on the radar. Hubs is inconsistent for his tolerance for shopping, however-once he finds an interest in something- he is unstoppable.  The beginning of the market focused on flea market type goods, used items, antiques. We spent some time combing through these items, looking for that “diamond in the rough”. Although highly entertaining, we did not find any treasures during this time.

The kiosks progressed for as far as the eye could see, including the interesting stores and restaurants on the street as well. The whole area is exclusive to pedestrians and even with the intensely growing crowd-there was much space to maneuver around freely. We passed a guitar band, tango dancers, some sort of anti-climactic protest and then stalls and stalls of useless items that kept Hubs and I transfixed for hours. In the end, we bought- for no rhyme or reason- a leather whip/horse lasso, boleaderos (see picture below), a child’s gift, a mask from the region of Tafi del Valle, a mug and a t-shirt with my new favorite Argentinian character, Mafalda.

ME & MAFALDA

Limping, hot, sweaty, surely stinky, dehydrated and hungry we trudged on back to the hotel to prepare for the evening’s events and birthday celebration.  Craving that delicious Proveleto- we returned back to the restaurant we had visited the first night Aires Crilolles http://www.airescriollos.com.ar/. The dinner round 2 did not disappoint. Hubs had a steak, what Argentina is known for. We were pleased, full and happy and ready for the next part of our evening.

DINNER AT AIRES CRIOLLOS

Back home, prior to the trip I had secured tickets to a free concert at the Usina del Arte https://www.buenosaires.gob.ar/cultura/usina-del-arte. We took an Uber to the urbanized area. The event was free. I still am not clear how or why-but jumped on this online opportunity and achieved success through Google translation not really knowing what or whom I was seeing.  So, when we showed up with two copies of this “ticket”, I was shocked they didn’t send us away. The building itself is located in the artsy La Boca neighborhood. The building dates back from 1916 and is an old electrical power plant. What I experienced was a nice sized auditorium with good acoustics, comfortable seating and a very young, popular crowd.

The singer’s name, whom I had never heard of is Nano Stern https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=nano+stern+english&&view=detail&mid=4CC3A9772FE474A261A14CC3A9772FE474A261A1&&FORM=VRDGAR. I particularly thought Hubs would enjoy as Nano’s guitar range seemed impressive. The concert did not disappoint. We had great seats and the crowd was revved up. He had many guests join him, none of which I knew either. We clapped, snapped, hummed, yelped, and swayed to every song and even laughed when appropriate- oddly not knowing one word of what was said. It was one of the oddest and most liberating feelings in the world to be completely “ignorant” to what was said around me and simply enjoy the moment for what was offered- beautiful romantic, melodic music with soulful Spanish lyrics. At one point, he had the whole audience join in and echo back his words. Hubs (and frankly I as well) swore we heard our dog’s name being chanted. So, that is exactly what we sang- “Julie, Julie-et, Julie, Julie-et”. We sang this out gleefully with the rest of the spectators feeling for a short time part of this unique culture. I’m 100% certain that is not what he was singing, but Hubs and I will always have this exclusive memory and joke that no one else (except my following of 3 that read this) now know. It’s catchy- sing it with me- Julie, Julie-et, Julie, Julie-et…..

Ubering back to the hotel and chanting our catchy made up lyrics; I again tried to absorb the scope of the day. There were so many levels of newness for myself so far on this trip, unknown foods, foreign music, unique smells- new experiences and stimuli coming at me from all different directions. As I attempted to filter through all of it and process the day’s events- I decided best to just take it for what it was- just like the words in the music I could not decipher- just enjoy it and perhaps later- I could make sense of all of it.

Day 5

If you are keeping track, we are at the halfway point on this trip. After breakfast, with a little bit of guidance from our front desk friends at AQ Tailored Suites, we took an Uber on this fine, sunny morning to Rental Bike Argentina https://rentalbikeargentina.com/. Fernando, the owner, set us up well with our bikes. Helmet on head, without truly any grasp of this city’s bike lanes and traffic, we headed out like naïve tourists. Initially, the bike lane was efficient and shuffled us quickly through the city.

However, after only a few moments, the bike lane disappeared and we were full throttle in 6 lanes of deep traffic competing with city buses, cars and other cyclists in way more than a hurry than us. Hubs kept saying “act like a car, except if you need to act like a bike, then act like a bike”. Divots deep in the earth tormented and teased us. We eventually made our way to the Port. We started to accumulate some speed when a policeman signaled us to inform us we couldn’t ride on the path we were on.

We made our way to the nature reserve https://www.buenosaires.gob.ar/ciudadverde/espaciosverdes/reservaecologica. It was only partially accessible. By now, the sun was strong. Latin men senior- aged with no shirts, copious chest fur and burnt orange skin walked by. Food trucks displaying lots of fleshy, meaty carne piped out smoke from their health violated wagons. We took a rest as pesky bees and irritating mosquitoes buzzed around our sweaty, helmet heads.

We entered a construction zone that was bumper to bumper traffic. Hubs tried to navigate his way through this like a snow plow, hurdling over plank boards and makeshift sidewalks to no avail. We eventually were forced to walk our bikes- now just a burden with wheels, through lunch hour traffic. Eventually, we made it to the street our hotel is on Montevideo. This tree lined, shaded street had a beautiful bike lane that was one direct line back to the bike place.

As we entered the street, there was one large atrocious hill. My legs swiveled in futility and exhaustion. Using one of my 3 gears, I made circular motions going nowhere, at some point I think I was rolling downhill. An older woman at the cross walk with me, looked in panic and fascination, as I cursed and spewed in my New Jersey accent. She asked me Estas’ bien?” (are you ok?) Embarrassed, ashamed and struggling to stay erect, I hopped off the bike and walked the bike to the curb, walking with ease.

We continued to stay in the bike lane. As I began to feel more confident, I slammed my breaks on as I encountered a large, downed oak tree obstructing the street. Not only did I need to look for buses, pot holes, other cars, double parked cars, now falling trees and industrious laborers pushing carts of goods in the bike lane as well.

Wheeling into Rental Bikes Argentina and seeing Fernando, I felt compelled to tell him with a smile, “”Your city streets scare me. I hated every second of it.” His bikes are good, his business is fine. But, for a novice bike rider as myself- the streets were treacherous. If you do this activity, take heed, study your map well. I didn’t hate it- but it was scary and I did feel unsafe. Once I stuck to the streets in my neighborhood and stayed in the bike lane, I was able to enjoy it.

Fernando was beneficial not only in bike rental but some solid advice, tips for our future destination and where to eat locally. He pointed directing us to a restaurant 3 blocks away. He promised it was cheap, good and close.

Gijion is a local restaurant with an extensive menu. Not knowing one word in Spanish and no one there speaking English made ordering a challenge. I stuck with the only word I know- Provoleta – my same usual hockey puck of grilled cheese that now I believe at this time was forming a small bowel obstruction in my gut. This volume of cheese for any human cannot be good or advisable.

    But, nonetheless, I had no other alternatives currently. Hubs, as well was sticking with what he knew best. Salmon-2 magnificent pieces that put a smile on Hubs face as he struggled to finish it. I had an interesting fruit salad for dessert and Hubs had the flan. The meal itself was mere peanuts ($19). A lot was lost on translation but the service was good, the meal was hearty and the restaurant was popular.

LUNCH AT GIJION

We walked back to the hotel from there. The walk was long and our bodies were tired but we managed. We made it back calling it an early night. Catching up on some much needed rest.

Day 6

This would be our last full day in Buenos Aires. After breakfast we made our way to the local laundry establishment Lavadero Parana 914 Onde Blanca https://www.ondablanca.com.ar/. In the past, we have been sequestered, tethered to a pesky washing machine, fighting for coins and territory and dedicating a whole day to this much needed task. However, after the “incident” in France where my machine was seized by a nasty Frenchmen and almost created an “international event”, we decided that it was best to use our resources and time in a more useful way. For global peace, we both felt this was a better plan. The laundry facility is a block from the hotel and only takes Pesos. I include all this in my blog because when researching laundry-we could not find any useful information. So, for the fellow traveler seeking laundry services in the Recoleta neighborhood, I highly recommend this. For approximately $8 USD we dropped off all our dirty garments at 9am and picked them up washed, folded perfectly and bagged at 5pm. This may have been the best Peso investment on this trip. This was one of the only places that would not accept our USD everywhere else our USA currency was welcomed and actually preferred.

From there we took an Uber to the Museo Nacionale de Arte Decorativo  https://museoartedecorativo.cultura.gob.ar/. It was not open yet so we decided to walk through the neighborhood. We walked through a lovely park Plaza Bartolome Mitre. A statue of Bartolome Mitre, an important Argentinian military figure from the 19th century, overlooked the patrons from atop a hill. Dog walkers impressively commanding a multitude of the most obedient animals ever witnessed took advantage of the beautiful sunshine and rich, glorious, green lawn.

We sat in a local Starbuck’s where I was able to start really documenting some of this magnificent trip. We sat outside on this clear, sunny day enjoying the downtime. The Starbuck’s was located close to where our tour had ended on Day 1 of this blog, near the Recoleta cemetery. It was interesting being back in this area, now a bit more familiar with it and grateful we had already seen so much of what we had.

We made our way back to the Museo Nacionale de Arte Decorativo , still not open yet but next to the museum overlooking a fountain, gardens and the Museum itself was a restaurant recommended by our hotel Croque Madame http://www.croquemadame.com.ar/local1.htm. We ate outside of this darling restaurant. We dined on a delicious cheese plate and Hubs had a creamy Caesar salad with a remarkable amount of shrimp. The food was decadent, the service was good, the environment beautiful and astoundingly only $20 USD.

CROQUE MADAME

We made our way to the now open Museum https://museoartedecorativo.cultura.gob.ar/.  The museum is a mansion from a high society couple and dates back from 1916. We hopped on an English tour in progress and were able to extract a few interesting tidbits. There is scattered art throughout, a Rodin statue, El Greco painting and other prolific artists. The real beauty is the building itself. We spent an hour walking around and enjoying the gardens when rain began to come down.

MUSEO ARTE DECORATIVO

We ran to an ATM to try to get more Pesos because if you recall, earlier I mentioned we could only get out 50 Pesos at a time. That doesn’t really go very far. We tried several machines, to no avail. We later learned this was not an issue coming from our bank; it was an internal issue in the country that was blocking us from getting out any more cash. This was frustrating and did limit our planning and several activities we would have considered doing. Finally, after a few attempts we were able to get our $50. This would need to last us for a while as these ATM attempts were bothersome.

As the rain continued, we summoned an Uber and went to Palacio Barolo https://www.atlasobscura.com/places/palacio-barolo. As we entered this unique building, deemed one of the tallest in South America, we were greeted by a friendly hostess who informed us that there was tour starting in 5 minutes. The cost was so minimal I don’t recall. But, we welcomed any information offered in this English so we graciously accepted. It turned out to be a good decision as we were the only ones in this tour, so it became a private tour for us.

PALACIO BAROLO

A lively docent named Fiorella Zaccara fzaccara@gmail.com approached us and began by providing us with all sorts of mind blowing facts about this building. She began by giving us the background behind the concept of this architecturally fascinating building that was eventually constructed in 1923. There was a whole theme of hidden meanings, symbolism, Dante’s Ashes and heaven and hell theory and more. She offered us so much information, it is hard now to recall. We ended up taking the very antiquated and rustic elevator to first the 14th floor. Not sure, why we put our trust in this old machinery, but we felt sheltered under the direction of Fiorella. At the 14th floor, I was prepared for something almighty because according to Fiorella we were ascending to heaven. But, stepping off the elevator the white plain walls and non-descript design was pretty darn disappointing. We went outside and did see some sweeping views of Buenos Aires. She pointed out the Eva Peron building, famous for singing her “Don’t cry for me Argentina”.

ELEVATOR/STAIRCASE

FIORELLA ⇑⇑⇑

We then walked up a precarious spiral staircase that progressively got tighter and tighter until it literally was a human body’s width until we got to the top. A lighthouse resides up top. Minimal foot space was up there but there were once again incredible views. She continued on with her discussion, answered a few questions, gave us some tips and then we descended back in the perilous elevator where we parted ways. The tour was an hour and was well worth it.

LIGHTHOUSE

We headed back towards our hotel, picking up our clean laundry for our departure tomorrow for the second part of our trip. Back at the hotel, Hubs inquired the front desk about “good pizza” suggestions. Apparently, it is unheard of to get pizza and salad at the same establishment. We headed to the suggested place El Cuartito http://www.lamejorpizzeria.com/pizzerias/el-cuartito/. Just a few blocks from the hotel, it was a popular place with as the front desk had warned- ONLY PIZZA.

EL CUARTITO PIZZA

As soon as the Hubs saw the bubbling, cheesy sensations, I knew I had to have him eat it. It would not have ended well for either of us if I deprived him at this point. However, subjecting myself to my kryptonite would also end badly. So, we compromised and he took it to go. Back at the hotel, as he unwrapped the box tied like a Christmas present, I could see the excitement in his eyes. A small cheesy, unbelievably greasy circular gooey concoction lay in the box with 6 green olives plopped on top. It was unsliced and to me, it did not look appealing. Hubs seemed to enjoy the product but did voice the cheese was different. Later on, his belly would hurt and this would be the suspect.

I chose to eat my bootlegged stash I had brought from home, some of my finest snacks, a little piece of home right here in Argentina. It was a win-win meal for both of us. But, sadly, this was to be our last meal in Buenos Aires.

Day 7

Puerto Iguazu,  Argentina

This morning we woke up very early for an 8am flight to Iguazu Falls. We took a frantic Uber ride to the airport after in a panicky hysteria Hubs could not locate Passport. This has occurred predictably in every country, every trip. I no longer get caught up in the frenzy knowing it will eventually be located- which it was. We had an uneventful 2 hour flight which we slept the entire time. As we began to descend, the long, milky brown river snaked along. Hubs informed me to make note of that river. We will get to know it well. He was very correct in this fact. The Parana River is what he was referring to which is the lifeline to this area. The big draw and frankly only reason to go to this region is for its waterfall. It is the largest in the world and spans 2 countries- Brazil and Argentina. We would only be viewing it from the Argentina side as we did not have a Visa which was required for Brazil. This was fine by us as we had heard that there is much debate over which viewing is more enjoyable. For us, we don’t know either one- so we were glad to just be able to add this to our trip. I will go into detail regarding the waterfall in tomorrow’s blog- so stay patient for that.

When we landed, we summoned a taxi as Uber is not available in this area. The taxi was relatively cheap and the driver Walter escorted us to his taxi. He spoke good English and provided us with a few details. The ride was 30 minutes along the peaceful jungle passageway. There were road signs sporadically warning of some pesky creatures (the capybara haven) as well as Jaguars.

We eventually made it to our residence for the next 3 days Selvaje Lodge https://www.selvajelodge.com/ located on the edge of the Iguazu National Park https://iguazuargentina.com/es/index. This beautiful 12 room lodge is tucked in the jungle and on Etapoty Indian Reserve. The glassed and wooden structure is brand new and has only been open 6 months. One enters this oasis through plush forest and jungle.  Immediately upon arrival, we were politely greeted by Maurice at the front desk- he would come to be my go-to for everything- a real lifesaver.

SELVAJE LODGE

As we were deep in the jungle, mosquitoes were prevalent and there seemed to be one quite fond of the Hubs. The harassing insect spun around like a helicopter as Hubs swatted and whacked in uselessness, tiring himself out. Maurice looked on with pity as these urbanites tried to adapt to “bush life”.

He ushered us to the big comfy couch in the lobby overlooking a total glass wall (completely smudge free) displaying all the dense vegetation and plant life. It was still early, too early for check in but Maurice was determined to make the Hubs happy. He assured us the maid was working feverishly to prepare the room for us. In the meantime, he offered us an aromatic, perfectly crafted cup of coffee with a picturesque portion of pastries. Hubs continued to curse the mosquito who gratefully had managed to avoid me. Shortly, our room was ready and we were led past the infinity pool. Teak lounge chairs invitingly displayed in front of the crystal blue clear water. Dipping my toe into it, I again was reminded that the bathing suit may remain packed for this trip.

Our room had an unobstructed view of the jungle. Birds chirped feverishly, reminding us who really owned this town. A king sized bed with lush linens, a large shower with a rain forest showerhead and even Netflix was provided. We rested for a short bit and then took a taxi into town. Pablo, our taxi driver would be our driver for all transportation from the lodge. He was very reliable and provided us with a phone app to reach him. It was an efficient system and worked well for us due to currency and language confusion.

After settling in, we decided to venture into town – Puerto Iguazu. Pablo, the driver picked us up and dropped us off at the international ATM. Again, only $50 ($2000 Argentinian Pesos) was allotted to us. We would try in pointlessness to obtain more, only to receive a harsh message in Spanish that we assumed was alerting us that no more was permitted. After obtaining our pitiful allowance, we ventured out to see what this village has to offer.

Now, as I mentioned days before, in Buenos Aires, we felt as if we were in Paris. Well, in Puerto Iguazu there was no question in our mind- we were in South America. The feel was unquestionably different. We went in some stores, picking up a few souvenirs for close to almost nothing. The dirt road so different from the tiled sidewalks in Buenos Aires crunched under our feet. Stray dogs ruled the area, these mixed breeds all homogeneous in stature, color and confidence.

We walked up a vertical incline overlooking the brown, muddy sedate Parana River. We eventually made it to an interesting viewing point called Triple Frontiera where the waterways of Argentina, Paraguay and Brazil converge. The viewing point was full of tour buses and selfie sticks. Where the three rivers merge the serene water turned into rippled rapids. We bought a fresh squeezed orange juice by a local vendor for a mere dollar. We sat on a large rock, sipping the sweet, citrus nectar overlooking the fascinating vista. We rested and hydrated as the sugary liquid added the much needed carbohydrate energy we needed to keep going.

TRIPLE FRONTIERA

Maurice from the lodge had offered a few dinner suggestions. We found our way to one of his recommendations, Restaurant La Rueda (The Wheel) http://www.larueda1975.com.ar/. The restaurant, where there was indeed a large wheel as you entered. This cozy and inviting restaurant was very popular. We were seated next to a young interesting couple who had just returned from a day at the falls. We made some stimulating small talk and they offered some helpful advice.

RESTAURANT LA RUEDA (THE WHEEL)

Hubs dined on the special which included an empanada, a steak course with crispy roasted potatoes and a traditional dessert of a pancake that came out flaming. In contrast, I had a small salad composed of 3 vegetables in which I was limited to – lettuce, cucumber and onion (should lettuce really be one of the 3 choices in a salad?) with this I had a side portion of white rice. My choices were limited due to me being a vegetarian, but it was clean healthy food- fresh and fulling. I had a small plate of assorted fruit for dessert. We sat and lingered enjoying the atmosphere. We summoned a taxi back to the lodge (cheaper than Pablo) after another unsuccessful attempt at the useless ATM.

DINNER

Back In the room, we discovered Netflix and watched an enthralling movie- our first media pleasure other than loathsome CNN for the first time in 8 days. We would need all our rest for the exciting day which would follow.

Day 8

We awoke to rhythmic chirping of birds. The sun was out and the air was breezy. It was a beautiful day to explore Iguazu Falls. We ate breakfast in a beautifully glassed dining room. The items provided were the “usual” but we were grateful to have it.

After fueling up our bodies for the day, Pablo took us to the Iguazu National Park https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/303 to explore the Iguazu Falls https://iguazufalls.com/. One of UNESCOS’s world’s wonders- located on the Northern tip of Argentina and bordering Brazil- is the largest waterfall in the world. Entry was $22 USD/per person. Entering the park, one feels a Disney World “esque” feeling at first- however, I had to keep reminding myself- nothing made up here- this is the “real deal”.

Progressing through the park, one has a choice to go on a walking green trail or to go to a tram that will take you either to the middle level or straight to Garganta del Diablo http://www.southamerica.cl/General_Information/Iguazu_Falls.htm- the “macdaddy” of all waterfalls- as the name suggests.

We chose to hike on the green trail. The paved trail is a progression of height that curves and slowly takes one towards the beginning of the over 270 waterfalls. There are over 2,000 plant species, 80 different trees and over 400 different breeds of birds. There are annoying rodents indigenous to the area called Coatis, that I steered clear from. They are greedy, nasty pests that have been known to bite. However, I saw many goofball tourists petting them, taking selfies and feeding them.

As we began to sense water, it was heard first. Some of the most fascinating one’s we witnessed were on the lower level. Droplet spraying brown gushing water rippled over the jagged rocks. Each picture I took, the next scene was even more beautiful and more stunning. I took video after video, each outlook more incredible. I eventually went through all my data many times over. I then would delete some pictures to create more space and this continued.

We witnessed vibrant rainbows; some double and triple arches slicing through the waterfall. Boats at the bottom, swayed like the little “tidybowl man” full of brazen tourists on one of the boating excursions that Hubs and I were too scared to do. We continued to climb and stopping at one popular waterfall that shot water like a cannon full force. Of course, the park provided a photographer there, creating the perfect photographic memory.

It was at this point; we pulled up next to a rock bench facing one of the waterfalls and nibbled on lunch we had brought with us. As I munched on my snacks, I took notice of the many different demographics of individuals here. I saw people disabled with crutches and wheelchairs, babies, children, diverse in every ethnic and cultural category. Large families, smooching couples, lonely, isolated persons. This waterfall was the united nations of world wonders.

After our lunch break, we continued on to the next level, the “inferior level” which to me was a little less impressive. Many of these viewing sites were over the waterfall looking down. It offered a different more muted perspective-less awe and wonder. Along the way, as one would exit or enter each trail, there were many bathroom opportunities as well as food and drink options. There was excellent signage and each trail gave detail of the length of time it would take to walk it. It made the whole experience much more manageable and less intimidating.

At this point, we were about 5 hours into our day. We were slathered with sunscreen and sprayed to alarmingly toxic levels of bug spray. My neck was starting to burn, thirst was at a level orange and the sun had begun to wear away my energy. But, we were determined to get to Garganta del Diablo http://www.southamerica.cl/General_Information/Iguazu_Falls.htm “the Devil’s Throat”. We took the crowded tram up to the drop off point. Once there, one walks over a series of metal raised planks and bridges over the docile water. It is a longer walk than I would have imagined we passed remnants of old bridges that water has washed away, dam like structures, aggressive vibrantly colored birds and friendly butterflies. More than a few lingered on me, hitch-hiking a ride down the pathway. There is very little indication of the fierceness of the waterfall, until one is literally in front of it.

Standing in front of Garganta del Diablo, it is a visceral experience in every sense of the word- unlike anything I have ever experienced. The thunder of the pulverizing muddy water pulsed through my body like the blood coursing through my veins. I could feel, hear, see and smell every aspect of this waterfall. I was told I would get saturated. I did not, but I was misted by it. As I stared into the water’s tumultuous liquid force, I was mesmerized at the power, shear force and energy that it carried with it.      

It was a kaleidoscope of liquid vitality, the longer I stared the more it changed. I looked away to regather my senses and then again the same phenomena would occur. I became emotional as I stood there feeling the command of this body of nature. It was bigger than me in every sense of the word. I felt small and insignificant in front of this Goliath of a wonder. I began to think of life, my life, my place in this world- and how we truly have no control. It was deep, my thoughts and I can’t really recall any of it- other than the simplicity in something so large can extract so many profound thoughts (none of which I now can remember).

Through my misty eyes and choked up voice, I tried to explain this elusive moving target of ideas to Hubs. He seemed to understand but was also being attacked by a bee so we moved on walking away from the waterfall swiftly. As we moved away, so did all my magnificent thoughts and sensations. I was left with a humming in my brain, the scraps and leftovers of brilliance. None of which, I can ever recite back. This is the best I can do.

We took the crowded tram back, now in the intense sun. Knobbly, sweaty unknown knees knocked against mine. I closed my eyes and crooked my head on Hubs shoulder. As I played back the day’s events I was exhausted, exhilarated and content all at once. We got off the tram and sat at a table for a long time going over what had been witnessed. We waited for Pablo who was punctual and delivered us back to the room after a full day.

We rested and showered and dined in our hotel that evening on Pumpkin soup and salad. We were sunburnt and tired and were grateful for good food and rest. That night Hubs, a little under the weather from all the sun, good food and activities called it an early night.

Day 9

On this morning, we slept in- like real people on vacation. On every other vacation, I have been on- it’s been a death march through the museum, an early wake up call for a tour, a treadmill work out before Hubs is up or “we have to be the first ones in the door” kind of schedule. But, on this day- we drew the thick dark shades and let our bodies take advantage of our flexible schedule. It was incredibly freeing and indulgent. We eventually did wake up, we walked the couple miles to the Sapuscai Horse Adventures Cabalgata +54 3757 676708. I could not locate any link for this establishment.

It has been on my bucket list to go horseback riding for a long time. My last experience over 20 years ago was a bit traumatic as a plus size gal and I have been trying to find the perfect opportunity to make my comeback! When we passed the sign on day 1, I knew this would occur one way or another.

As we approached the horse ranch, a nuclear family of 4 doughy blond Hollanders stood just as out of place as us-in front of the proprietor. There was a long discussion going on in Spanish that neither party would divulge. As one of the Hollander family tween girls sulked, the mother confessed they are experienced equestrians and would rather not be stuck with the likes of us (assuming we were slow- and they were correct). There was a lot of bartering going on and apparently promises made yesterday regarding this ride. Due to all of this, they unearthed a teenage boy, none to pleased to accompany only us.

They brought out a mammoth dinosaur of a horse for Hubs called Maximo who looked at us with discern. Keiko a nice petite horse was hustled out for me. I climbed on not understanding any Spanish dialogue that was being discussed including important instructions. The annoyed teenage boy trotted off in front as the Hollanders waved and said their fake goodbyes.

MAXIMO                                                                                                KEIKO

We started off a bit rocky, not having been on a horse over 2 decades; I really had little idea of what to do. The teenage boy huffed and sighed and barked “senorita” each time I tried to move forward with an unmoving Keiko. When I spoke in my harsh NJ accent, his (not sure he or she?) spine rippled in disgust. I patted Keiko, whispering sweet nothings, certain Keiko did not understand English. We shared car space on a street which eventually took us through the Iguazu National Park. I went to itch my eye and leaned my death gripped lasso the wrong way as if to command Keiko to make a turn. We ended up in a tree; specifically me stuck in a branch. Annoyed teenager sighed saying “Senorita” grabbing my lasso and caravanning me along with his horse.

As we continued on, in the shaded forest- it was really beautiful. It was magical. I began to have confidence and feel yes, I can do this. Keiko and I will go on a world tour. I will tell people how he (she?) changed my life. We speak the mutual language of equestrian love. I stroked Keiko’s ears and neck as I began planning my new life as a jockey. It was at that moment Keiko stopped, leaned into a tree and began scarfing down branches of poison ivy looking leaves. Hubs was far away from me and the annoyed teenage boy was having a difficult time wrangling these humans (us). I looked up and there was an enormous tree on the ground that Hubs was doing impressive leaping over.

Annoyed boy, dismantled in aggravation untangling poor Hubs and Maximo from vines and branches. I thought for sure, he would turn us around but No he made me and Keiko go through this same maneuver. My leg became all entangled in a thick vine. Annoyed boy seemed a bit concerned as my knee and ankle took on a strange angle needed to extract itself from the precarious entanglement.

Moments later, the Hollanders galloped full force past us. “Are you enjoying?” They yelled as dust flew up in the air as they dashed on by- not waiting for a response. At some point, I heard a strange sound, a guttural groaning strange noise. A bird? A tribal ceremony? A bear? It continued. “Senorita, Senorita”,  annoyed boy pointed. It was the Hubs, yelping my name out in panic as he was so far ahead and was concerned where I was.

Finally, we made it back to the stable, our horses actually sighed in relief. We exited our horses and were given a tour of the gargantuan pig (that was its actual name), the goats, the cows and some roosters. We were given some complimentary cold drinks and I gave the owner my card which I am certain he put in the compost. If you are wondering it was $20 USD a person for an hour and a half and they gladly took USA currency.

We left the horse ranch and walked back to the hotel. Some things to learn prior to horseback riding- do not wear shorts to this activity. Hubs received big horrible welts and bruising that still remains from the rubbing, friction and vine incident. Also, perhaps watch a youtube video on this to know just the basics, enough to not annoy a teenage boy, and lastly don’t plan around the same time that a snobby family from Holland chooses to.  Nonetheless, this was so much fun and we both loved it.

As we trudged on back to the hotel dirty, smelly and hungry we took in our surroundings. The path towards the hotel is shaded by beautiful, thick trees and plush vegetation. Many Indian families passed by us, as we were on an Indian reservation, of all ages, all industrious carrying water and other necessary items, smiling and waving.

We got back to the hotel and dined a late lunch -on pumpkin soup and salad. We lazily sat in the dining room lingering the last of our time on vacation. After lunch, I attempted to go in the pool so beautiful, clear and blue- but cold. I didn’t get very far. We sat poolside with other couples enjoying the last of daylight.

We relaxed that evening watching Netflix (BirdBox) in our cozy bed. Savoring the last moments of vacation as tomorrow would be a travel day.

Day 10

This would be our last day. Our flight was a 3 part-er and was a late departure out of Iguazu to Buenos Aires at 6pm with a midnight flight back to Panama City. Maurice had offered us a complimentary late check out which was truly appreciated.  We slept in –this being the latest on any trip I would ever indulge in. Drapes drawn, a dark cold cave with our thick blankets provided a perfect nest for my hibernation. I shamefully went to the dining room in my pajamas taking advantage of our last breakfast. We leisurely lingered around and eventually went for a nice long walk around our lodge. We took the paved road through the reservation seeing many Indian families.  When in my life would I be walking on the same path with Etopy Indians in their land? There’s a bit of irony in the whole thing. Travel takes one on the most surprising journeys encountering the unexpected.