My mother had a passion for used books. During my childhood she picked up hundreds of musty volumes from various Midwestern fairs, library sales, and thrift shops. One gloomy autumn day, while shelving her latest finds in the wall of bookshelves lovingly built by my step-father, I stumbled across several of Richard Halliburton’s semi-autobiographical travelogues; 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 COVID19 vaccines a reality, there may be more about travel, but lately this blog is about my own journey on the road to wherever the Universe has decided I need to be next.
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