The One and Only Sedona

In the United States, we are fortunate to have a handful of places unlike any other on earth. Their uniqueness may come from landscape, climate, and/or history and culture. Sedona is one of those places and, if you haven't been there, a visit should be on your bucket list.

We are fortunate to live only about an hour and a half drive from Sedona, and come here a few times a year. Hiking, biking, sight-seeing, shopping, and golf are the attractions. Sedona is a small town, with a full-time population of only about 11,000. However, 3.5 million visitors annually come from all over the world to see the luminous towering red rock sandstone formations in and around Sedona. Some seek the fabled healing powers of the energy fields among the rocks.

Yesterday we came to Sedona with a few other couples, to play golf, dine, and play more golf. The Sedona Golf Resort at the Hilton Sedona has a beautiful course with challenging greens. The course whipped me, but I was repeatedly pacified by the stunning views from every tee box and fairway. It's difficult to stay self-focused or frustrated for long when so clearly dwarfed by the majestic display around you. "Darn, I missed my putt, but LOOK AT THAT!"

Last night we dined at Dal and Di Luca, a standout Italian restaurant. This morning we'll complete our visit by playing golf at Oak Creek Country Club. Back to the more sedate beauty of Prescott tonight. It's nice to have such an appealing getaway available so close to home.

Cheers to England!

We boarded the Queen Mary 2 in Southampton on Tuesday.  From this massive ship, we watched the shores of England recede from our view.  The day before, we bid farewell to our wonderful friends, Chris and Terry Gradidge.  They were the masterminds behind our itinerary, acted as our tour guides, and were our daily travel companions.  We are so grateful for everything they did, for all the memories collected and shared as a result of this trip, and for their friendship.

In ten days we stayed in six towns and villages, and explored many more in between.  Of course, we had to experience a little of London; but other places were on paths less traveled… Those will perhaps be our favorite to recall.

From our hotel in Windsor, we walked across the Thames to Eton (where Princes William and Henry went to school).  The flag was flying at Windsor Castle, so we knew we were sharing the town with Queen Elizabeth.  Preparations for celebration of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee in June are underway everywhere.

In Woodstock we stayed at the MacDonald Bear Hotel and walked to the grounds of Blenheim Castle, home of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough.  Chris ably chauffeured us through winding roads surrounded by hedgerows and filled with fields blooming yellow with rape, to other small villages in the Cotswolds.

The Old Court Hotel in Symonds Yat West (near Ross-On-Wye) provided dewy morning walks along the Wye.  We discovered an old chapel and the crypts of John Graves Simcoe and his wife Elizabeth, who used to make their home in what is now the Old Court Hotel.  Wales was a quick drive away.  It was interesting to see public signs there in both English and Welsh (a language that seems to need more vowels).

Perhaps my favorite stop was Polperro, a small, picturesque fishing village on the coast.  We could easily walk into town for a Cornish pasty and a pint along the river Pol.  Walks along the ocean yielded incredible views.  My attempt to get a review of the soup of the day from the barkeep at the Blue Peter was an amusing exchange that I will always remember.  (After a few minutes of creative description, he admitted that he hadn’t tried it and fetched me a taste.)

England’s New Forest is a national treasure.  Its wildlife gazes peacefully among the small villages and in its fields, protected by law.  We saw ponies, sheep, donkeys, pigs, and horses everywhere.  What an amazing, fairytale environment!

Our journey ended in Southampton, a busy city and shipping center.  The White Star Tavern’s rooms were modern and comfortable, and Cunard’s port was just a short taxi ride away.

Our England experience will be with me forever.  My withdrawal from pub food is made easier this week, as the Queen Mary has a pub on board.  I’ll miss whitebait (tiny fried fish that you dip in mayonnaise and eat whole) and beef or game pies.  I can devise my own version of a ploughman’s lunch for home, and learn to make chicken liver pate.  For both, I need to find somewhere to buy the ever-present English condiment – Branston’s.

Cheers to England, and the Gradidges.

Storybook Village

I’ve been in Polperro, on England’s Cornish Coast, for about a day and a half.  It has all the ingredients (beauty, history, and charm) that would make a great children’s storybook.  

The streets are crooked, narrow, and lined with stones.  Buildings are centuries old, but whitewashed clean, and have colorful window frames.  Shopkeepers sell Cornish pasties and fudge made with clotted cream.  Friendly pubs dot each corner.

Polperro is a fishing village.  You can enjoy fresh mussels, cockles, scallops, crabs, and winkles sold by street purveyors, or in dishes served in inns.  In past centuries, if you weren’t a fisherman, you were probably a smuggler.  Both vocations were filled by locals, and the local museum documents the lives of many a Polperran who made their living side-by-side; legally and illegally.  The women stayed home and knitted thick sweaters for their wayfaring men, or processed pilchards (sardines).  The collection of historic photographs and letters on display is impressive.

Even some of the alcohol in the pubs seems fit for a children’s story.  A favorite in this region is Scrumpy, an unfiltered strong apple cider.  Me – I prefer the pear cider. It seems the variety of locally-brewed ales is endless.  Pubs themselves are friendly gathering places, where the barkeeps know their clients and will gratefully accept the offer of a pint for themselves.

The surrounding landscape is stunning, with the River Pol rushing to the Atlantic Ocean through the center of town.  Slate cliffs surround us.  Peak Rock guards the entry to the harbor.  Footpaths wind around the cliffs by the ocean and provide for bracing morning rambles by the sea.  English wildflowers are tangled around the paths and send their fragrances into the ocean air.

A woman we met in the Blue Peter Inn night before last asked us not to spread the word about their idyllic little village, because they don’t want to have it overrun by tourists.  I didn’t take offense.

I may never get a chance to return to Polperro, but I will remember it as a storybook village.

The English Pub

There once was a Yank named Laurel

With her waistband began to quarrel
She wondered the reason
Yet t’was travel season
And her fondness for pub food was royal.

We are discovering the wonders of the true English Pub.  We’ve been to imitations in the U.S. – but they are not the same animal at all.



The Royal Standard of England,
in Buckinghamshire

In our brief experience to date (5 days and as many pubs), my perception is that the best of pubs have been around a long, long, time.  They have tried and tested the popular dishes and beverages, and only the best remain on their menus.  Some menus are short and others long, but there are staples that seem to be constant.  We have tried some of them, including fish and chips, mussels, game pie, and ploughman’s lunches.  The ploughman’s lunch, with its selection of two or three cheeses, bread, butter, pickled vegetables, and perhaps an onion jam, is my new favorite lunch.  Oh my, the Stilton here!

Order your pub lunch and a beverage at the bar, and find a table in a cozy corner, near a fireplace to ward off the damp and chill.  Your meal will be delivered to you, while you chat up your chums.  Take your time.  Have a pint or two.  I recommend the pear cider.  While away the afternoon.

Well, I’m off for an English breakfast, with some toast, poached eggs, cheese, and beans.  It’s time to begin planning today’s foray into the countryside and to target our next pub lunch.

"Tasting" a pear cider and a local ale.

Worst Travel Day Ever

I don’t remember how I tolerated frequent business travel when I worked for Hilton. Maybe I just got used to it being the norm – all the time wasted, the aggravation, the irritation and noise. These days I travel much more rarely, and make arrangements for our own convenience. Yesterday we just needed to get from Prescott to Chicago. It took all day, and we only made it to Dallas.

It started at 3:45 AM yesterday, when we got up to get ready and close up the Prescott house for our planned two month absence. By 5:15 AM we were ready for our good neighbor to give us a ride into downtown Prescott to catch the shuttle to Phoenix’s Sky Harbor Airport.

We arrived at the airport a little after 8:00 AM. AAdvantage Miles from American Airlines provided us with free flights to Chicago, although we had to change planes in Dallas. That didn’t seem like a big deal when I made the arrangements. But as we approached Dallas, first the pilot announced that we would have to change our approach into Dallas due to weather. A little later, he announced that we would have to divert to San Antonio and land there to wait out the violent weather passing through Dallas.

Our wait on the tarmac in San Antonio lasted four hours. By the time we reached Dallas at about 7:00 PM, DFW Airport was a madhouse. Our connecting flight to Chicago had either left earlier or was cancelled – that was never really clear. After waiting in line at the gate for two hours, we received a discount voucher for a room at the Sheraton in downtown Dallas. We were told there was a shuttle that would take us there, but discovered the shuttle was unavailable at that time of night. A $50 taxi ride later, we checked into the Sheraton at 10:00 PM. At that point, we had been travelling for 15 hours. After dinner in a very noisy sports bar (the only thing open after 10), we collapsed into bed.

Here it is, Thursday morning, and I am still 950 miles from Chicago. We travelled only with a backpack with minimal supplies – so I will wear home the jeans I wore yesterday, underthings washed out in the sink last night, and a T shirt borrowed from Ron. Once I pull myself together, I’ll be checking with the front desk to see if they have any toiletries for distressed passengers. Sigh. We’ll be on the 12:35 PM shuttle for a flight that departs for Chicago (hopefully) just before 3:00 PM. We should arrive at our home in Chicago by about 7:00 tonight.

I’m thankful that American Airlines kept us safe, but pretty disappointed with their ability to serve their passengers effectively at the airport last night. Fortunately, we can afford an unexpected diversion like this (which will amount to over $300) – but feel empathy for those who probably spent the night at the airport last night because they couldn’t.

Next stop, the internet lounge in the lobby to post my blog. I’m not paying another $12.95 for access from my guest room.

I wanna go home.

4,525 Miles on the Highway

We arrived home yesterday afternoon after a long road trip through Illinois, Tennessee, Arkansas, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and back through Illinois. Over 4500 miles of driving to get somewhere and see things. Over 4500 miles of gas, food, and potty stops and hotel overnights – all narrated by that annoying, know-it-all GPS voice.

Ron and I also had hours and days to talk, listen to music, and log new experiences that add to the rich texture of our life together. We laughed and sang and read billboards out loud. I gasped at the discovery of a home we want in Prescott, at my first eyeful of the Grand Canyon, and at an unexpected close up sighting of mule deer in the snow. I sighed at the sight of so many beautiful colors and vistas in New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado, and (I admit) in dismay a few times when I had to get back in the car for more road time.

The most relaxing times were when we stopped for more than one night in one place. We had two nights in Albuquerque, four nights in Prescott, and three nights in Santa Fe. Those stays gave us a chance to see and do more; exploring restaurants new to us, shopping at local places, sneaking in nine holes of golf, and enjoying the hospitality of our lodging hosts. Fellow guests at the Pleasant Street Inn B & B in Prescott provided unexpected pleasure with their stories and friendly openness. The Hilton in Santa Fe upgraded us into a very comfortable casita, where we enjoyed the warmth of fireplaces (yes, two!) and a jetted tub.

The funniest thing is that we planned this trip to escape the last gasps of winter in Chicago, yet encountered snow in both Albuquerque and Santa Fe. So we bundled up in layers and kept going! Our return was delayed one day by reports of road closures due to an icy mountain pass from New Mexico into Colorado on Interstate 25. Nonetheless, we soaked up enough sun and warmth to help us survive until it warms up in Chicago.

All in all, a great trip spanning many miles. I’m so glad to have the freedom to spend time this way.

"Friends Everywhere"

Back in 1982, I was offered a new job and a transfer by Hilton. It required me to move from Chicago to Dallas. Although excited by the opportunity, I was hesitant to leave Chicago and all my friends. But I got great advice from my boss, Bob Wishon. The first nugget was to have a good reason if I turned it down, because I would eventually stop getting offers. The other was something like, “The great thing about moving around for the hotel business is that you end up with friends everywhere”. I took the leap and began a new adventure in Dallas.

Earlier this week, Ron and I started a long distance road trip. We headed south through Illinois, and made our first stop in our former home city of Memphis. There we met a group of good friends for Happy Hour, and enjoyed lots of hugs and laughter. That night, we were overnight guests at our good friend Dave’s home. I wish we could have stayed longer. But we were on the road again the next morning.

The next evening, we arrived in Dallas to visit our dear friends, the Gradidges. We’ve known them for twenty years. Although it’s been almost 16 years since we left Dallas, we have remained close friends who visit with each other several times each year. That night we had a lovely dinner together, and stayed as guests in their home.

Bob Wishon’s advice was right… I moved three times during my career with Hilton (Chicago to Dallas, Dallas to Las Vegas, Las Vegas to Memphis), and each time we met wonderful people who have continued to be good friends. We treasure every one of them.

Just a road trip footnote: We faced threatening weather driving from Dallas through Wichita Falls. Concerned, we tuned into the Weather Band on the car radio. The National Weather Service did not alleviate our concerns as they were forecasting rain, dangerous wind gusts, large damaging hail, tornadic winds, lightning, increased fire potential, and flying lawn furniture and trash cans. And we’re pretty sure we heard something about flying monkeys and “Auntie Em”. Fortunately we managed to skirt the storm and head safely for Albuquerque.

There's No Place Like Home

I’ve written a few blogs with some of the details from our trip to the Mediterranean, but in the midst of the holiday season I feel compelled to write about the joys of just being home. Regardless of where we travel, there is always a deep satisfaction in returning home. We were away for over two weeks at the end of October/beginning of November, leaving for another week away to celebrate Thanksgiving with a friend. As much as I enjoyed both of these trips, I breathed a deep sigh of relief as we crossed the threshold of our little condo on Bittersweet Place. We’ll spend Christmas and New Years here, luxuriating in our personal traditions, in full nesting mode.

For me, the pleasure of being home is found in simple routine. I like taking a hot bubble bath on a really cold day, raiding our own refrigerator for healthy snacks, monitoring my connection to friends on Facebook, choosing to dress in sweats or fleece because I know I’m not going out today, or venturing out into the neighborhood to run errands. I revel in enjoying what Chicago has to offer. Every time I take public transportation (the el or the bus), I am impressed by how well it works, and how ingrained it is into the fabric of the city. It’s an important part of the “City That Works”.

Granted; a big part of how we are able to enjoy life at home can be credited to being retired. One of our favorite things to do is to pour an after-5 glass of wine and sit in the front room to watch the neighborhood come home from work. In other words, we’re still wallowing in the pleasure of being strategically unemployed. When people express surprise that we would tolerate the harsh winters of the frozen north by choice, our answer is that if it’s bad outside we just stay home. If the streets are icy, we don’t take the car out; we take the el.

So for now, we have no travel plans. My brother, Jason, will be joining us to celebrate Christmas in Chicago. The tree is trimmed and the fireplace is keeping us warm and cheerful. Sometimes, there’s just no place like home.