Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

26 March 2017

Prompt 3 - A significant object

The keys to the world
In this, the third installment of 'What did I do in that writing class,' I share with you our third prompt of the day. Our instructor asked us to write about an object that had significant meaning in our lives. As soon as she uttered those words, I knew that I would be writing about my passport. I've written about what my passport means to me previously here in the Den. It has literally facilitated opening my eyes to the amazing world in which we live and I truly cherish it. Given that I'm about three more Tweets away from the Trump Regime yanking my passport, or at the very least making sure that when I come back from London in a couple of weeks that my welcome back shake down will make my colonoscopy seem like the tickle of a feather, I knew I needed to write about this little blue book. So I went with it - my passport:

In a quiet, darkened movie theater, a deep voice has the ability to transport you. "In a world," the disembodied voice somberly intones and you are instantly carried away to an adventure in a strange land, a crime spree from a time long since past, or into the agony of someone's heartache. From a young age, seeing that world that voice spoke about, that strange, faraway land, had always been a siren's call that I knew I would one day heed. A passport was going to be the lynchpin in that plan.

I have not been without a passport since my 15th birthday. Those little blue books, some bursting with colorful stamps and surly visa photos and others with just a few pages marked, have been my entry into a world far different than my own. My passport has allowed me into the home of a Turkish family in Istanbul, showing me the meaning of extending hospitality to a stranger. Through the permissions granted me by my passport, I have seen what it means to have hope in the face of nothing, watching the sisters of the Missionaries of Charity in Kolkata, India, work with those who have truly been downtrodden. My passport has introduced me to the joy that is the laughter of Filipino children as they dash through the traffic-choked streets of Manila. It has also shown me darker things, like the toxic impact of Western culture on Bangkok, Thailand.

There is so much beyond our own neighborhoods. There is so much to see and enjoy in this world. With my passport, I have seen the inherent goodness of people no matter where I've been in the world. That goodness gives me hope.

If it seems like that came to an abrupt halt, it did. Such is the nature of being given a limited amount of time to craft a brief personal essay. This is one I'd like to continue to refine as seeing this world has been one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given.

Get out there, if you can. This world is still an amazing place.

22 January 2017

22 January 1970

Forty seven years ago, on 22 January 1970, a milestone in commercial aviation was achieved when a Boeing 747 completed its first revenue flight for its first customer, Pan American World Airways. The arrival of the newly crowned "Queen of the Skies," as she will forever be remembered, at London Heathrow opened up the world to the masses in a way that could not have been anticipated. Suddenly, hundreds of people at once could traverse the globe in a matter of hours. Overnight, the world became a much smaller place.

As a certified airline dork, Pan Am aficionado, and world traveler, this is a special day. My first trans-Atlantic flight took place fourteen years after that first commercial flight and it was between those same two cities - New York JFK and London Heathrow - on a Pan Am 747 that looked every day of its fourteen years. I did not sleep a wink on that flight, as I wanted to take in every second on board the legendary Queen. Sure, she looked like she'd been rode hard and put away wet, but this was Pan Am on one its marquee routes. Sitting in Economy that night, I was a few rows back from the vaunted Clipper Class and I remember seeing through the occasional break in the red curtain that divided our cabins, the passengers being served multi-course meals, reclining back in their seats further than I thought possible, and saying to myself, "One day I'll travel that way."

I've been very fortunate to travel that way many times ever since. I've flown in the very front of that plane, in its upper deck, and even in a middle seat in the very last row (let's never, ever, ever speak of that atrocity again). The 747 made the world smaller for me. She has carried me to places like this:

London, Frankfurt, Chennai, Singapore, Hong Kong, Seoul, Shanghai, Manila, Sydney, Tokyo,
Honolulu, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Minneapolis, Chicago, Washington DC, New York City

As she carried me to all those places, I could not have imagined all the things that I would learn and experience. When I disembarked from that first transatlantic journey at 17, I had no idea that London would show me what a truly global city it is. In Tokyo, I discovered tastes that I never dreamed would cross my palette. In Manila, I discovered a people so full of kindness that I remember the lessons they taught me to this day. In Hong Kong, I found that a city truly is a living thing and there is nothing as vibrant as that great city. In Chennai, I discovered a people so layered in mystery and beauty that I still have difficulty articulating the experience to this day. In Sydney, I reveled in meat pies and did so with some of the friendliest, most adventerous people I've ever known. As I've traveled the world on the 747, I discovered a beautiful, diverse world full of stunning vistas, amazing cities, and people who prove that we are far more alike than we are different.

That lesson, that we are far more alike than we are different, is one I am trying hard to remember as my own country is as polarized as it has ever been. It's amazing what a smile and a kind gesture can bring you when you are in another country and not able to speak the same language. It's been incredible to see what happens when you express a bit of interest in someone else's culture when traveling. Some of the most amazing meals of my life have happened by asking simple questions in a local market. Language and culture barriers collapse over the joy of shared meals. 

I am forever grateful for the experiences I've had in this world, many of which were as a result of a flight on a 747. The airplane was, and is, amazing, but its the people in those places that plane carried me that have enriched my life. They taught me that our differences aren't so vast and that this world is  a gift.

I need to remember that lesson right now and apply it to my fellow countrymen. Something tells me we're going to need to remember that something awful in the coming months and years.

06 March 2016

London Has Not Fallen

A little bit from London
This past Friday night, I stepped off a flight from London at Newark, NJ, to a barrage of ads for a new movie called "London Has Fallen." I am delighted to report that no, no it has not. London is very much alive and well, which is more than I can say for the prospects of said movie. Some of the reviews include the following gems:

"Make American movies great again. You can start by boycotting this one." - Peter Travers, Rolling Stone 
"One of the worst action movies in recent history." - Ignatiy Vishnevtsky, A.V. Club

Makes you want to get to your local cineplex and waste $12 in no time, doesn't it? Suffice to say, I won't be lining up for a viewing. I've never been a big fan of seeing cities I love get decimated in film. That is certainly the case with London.

London is a storied city that I've been enthralled with since my first visit there in 1984. London was the first stop on my maiden tour of Europe and I intended to take it all in. One of my good friends was flying for Pan Am at the time and was on a layover in London and I got what I thought was the consummate 'insiders' tour of that amazing city. Eating at the Stockpot that first night made me feel like a Londoner and it also introduced me to the fact that traditional English meals are essentially devoid of flavor. Flash forward thirty two years and I can tell you things have improved - the Nepali dinner of Ghurkali lamb I had in Blackheath was awesome! I also learned on that long-ago trip that the hottest place on the planet is not a searing desert or  the proctologist's office before things get real, but it is the Tube at the height of rush hour on a summer's evening. That is a lesson you don't forget. Ever.

I've been fortunate to return to London many times since that introductory visit in 1984. To this day, it is a city that never gets dull. I say that having spent most of my waking hours in my company's London headquarters, with little chance to enjoy the city and it still wasn't dull. London is a study in contrasts. How can the same city have the beauty of Houses of Parliament marred by the architectural vomit that is the Shard? How can they continue to pronounce "Southwark" as "suth-erk?" How can they NOT sell All Butter Flap Jacks at every corner? And on that critical point, why can't Amazon.co.uk ship them to the United States? This is an important question. Like life-or-death important. And I need to find the answer.

As I flew back on Friday, I watched that icon of Britishness in what I think is the greatest Bond film of them all, Skyfall and I couldn't help but smile. All seemed right in the world as I watched Bond dump the Jaguar and jump into his famed Aston Martin DB5 and bolt for Scotland. At the end of the film, Bond gazes across the famed London skyline that survived the Blitz. It didn't fall then and certainly won't fall now.

28 December 2015

Road Trip - Day One

As we made final preparations for Phase Three of Vacation Shenanigans 2015 last night, my brother-in-law made a crack about us recreating the journey of those unfortunate souls in "The Grapes of Wrath." That got me to thinking. Yes, we are making a cross country trek in a vehicle that has more seam-busting and junk bulging from it than a middle-aged German tourist in a Speedo on Mallorca. We are heading east to Florida rather than west to California in search of prosperity (well, CAL's internship). With those changes in mind and with all apologies to John Steinbeck, we are now on The Oranges of Wrath Tour 2015.

After 10 and 1/2 hours of driving that started this morning in Chandler, AZ, we are now taking refuge in a non-descript hotel under renovation in the middle (not even) of the snowy (yeah, thanks for that Ma Nature) country of Texas (it just never ends). Some highlights from the day's adventure:

Arizona
We stopped off on the far side of Tucson to see the stunningly patient and mighty fine SML's brother and his family. Knowing that we suffer from a dearth of good Mexican food in Connecticutistan, they chose a fine little Mexican joint. I ordered a chorizo burrito, which in retrospect and in the prophetic words of the great sage Ron Burgundy was "a bad choice." Why? Well, I love me some chorizo but it's effect on me is highly fluid, like the Kardashian family morals. Suffice to say, I have paid a price to insure that my wife and daughter did not suffer. I'll leave it at that...

New Mexico
The Land of Enchantment. No, no it is not. Sure, there's Taos and its beauty. There's Santa Fe and its art and vortexes. Then there is the glory that is the Hatch Chile. However, the highlights of NM along the I10 include Lordsburg, Deming and Las Cruces. I'm really glad CAL drove the NM leg so I could sleep. Sorry, NM, but enchantment is not the first word that comes to mind.

Texas
We blew into El Paso and its twin across the border, Ciudad Juarez, the day after they got pounded by a freaky snow storm. Very strange to see both cities awash in snow. We also got to see the physical manifestation of the idea of nirvana of everyone's favorite fascist, xenophobic, loud-mouthed bully of an uncle, Donald Trump, in the form of the wall between El Paso and Juarez. As we drove out of El Paso into the eerily dark Texas night, the presence of Border Patrol was thick. It's a very cold night here so hopefully it'll be a warm night for those taken in this evening.

So Day One is in the books. San Antonio, Houston and who knows how far into Louisiana we'll get tomorrow. This much I know though - there's a Waffle House with my name on it. It's not a road trip until you've choked down a waffle from the WH.