My mother had a felicitous addiction to used books, picking up hundreds of musty volumes from various Midwestern fairs during my childhood. One gloomy autumn day I stumbled across several of Richard Halliburton’s semi-autobiographical travelogues while shelving her latest finds. A few black and white photos, and an exotic story about the Taj Mahal, and I was hooked on the handsome thrill-seeking travel guru of the Twenties and Thirties.
Despite my less glorious experiences in modern travel, I remain addicted to the pleasures of different cultures, food, languages, architecture, climates and people. As a result I am able to offer you a healthy dose of practical travel advice, the odd tidbit of exotic locations for inspiration, updates on settling into our new home in Tucson, and a sprinkling of snark.
With the Pandemic edging into the rear view mirror there may be more about travel, but lately this blog is about my own journey on the road to becoming whatever it is the Universe has decided I need to be next.