I was a guest of Toyota on the Million Dollar Highway. All opinions are my own. Put most simply, I am by no means a daredevil. I shudder at the thought of a roller coaster. Skydiving is not on my bucket list. Despite being a Colorado native, I don’t enjoy skiing. Before you assume I’m simply no fun, I can explain. I was born with a predisposition to worry. While I try to not borrow trouble before trouble borrows me, I can’t help myself. As I gripped the armrest of my Sienna minivan with fervor, I shrieked at my husband behind the wheel, yelling, “Careful!” With no guardrails to keep us, no Continue Reading
Swimming in Fear and Solitude in Sardinia’s La Maddalena Archipelago
I carry an abnormal fear of authority. I get nervous walking into a liquor store despite being well over the age of 21. I’ll be driving the speed limit, but the minute I see those lights on top of the car behind me, I panic. Despite all reasoning, I assume I was speeding and I’m somehow not allowed to buy beer and I’ll wind up in jail. I felt this abnormal fear of authority meeting me as we prepared to board a car ferry from the Italian island of Sardinia to the Maddalena Archipelago. Scattered in between the islands of Sardinia and Corsica, just off the Costa Smeralda, La Maddalena Continue Reading
Cuenca, Spain Wishes You Were Here
In many ways, I ran to Cuenca. Roughly two hours outside of Spain’s capital in the Castile-La Mancha region, the small town of my refuge teeters on a rocky ridge. Like a tightrope walker, I tip-topped through this UNESCO World Heritage city, almost as if I wasn’t supposed to be here. Then again, I wasn’t. Cuenca was never on my Spanish itinerary, until perhaps by happenstance, we checked into what could have been a minimum-security prison in Madrid. Just off of Puerta del Sol, I lost a little piece of my soul in that Madrid hotel. The accommodations reeked of trash, attracted salty characters Continue Reading
Zaragoza, Spain Wishes You Were Here
Every time we left a roof over our heads in Zaragoza, it rained. No matter the shelter, from awnings, hotel roofs to rentals cars, without fail, Zaragoza opened up and poured out to us. With nothing more than the imagination of how appropriate an umbrella would suit this situation, we carried on, determined to get the most out of one day, our only day, with the city often lost between the shuffle of Barcelona and Madrid. Even in the rain, Zaragoza greets in grand fashion. Located on the banks of the Ebro River, the provincial capital of Aragón boasts a history dating back to the Romans and Continue Reading
Spain By The Parador
In a quiet corner of La Mancha, we arrive to our accommodations for the night, a 16th century convent. Our rental car dips beneath an archway and instantly grumbles. The stones below the tires are old and bumpy, producing a sound only medieval stones can. We park in the courtyard, next to a bubbling fountain. Some other guests are arriving at the same time of the gray hair variety. The couple takes one look at my husband and I in wonder. “What are these young people doing staying in such grand digs?,” they seem to say. Tonight we aren't staying in a crumbling guesthouse, hostel or budget Continue Reading
Abruzzo, Italy Wishes You Were Here
You can spot L’Aquila not with the help of road signs or even a compass, but rather by following the construction cranes. After following the crane compass rose to L’Aquila, I arrive on the streets of the regional capital of Abruzzo. Etched across crumbling buildings is a simple saying, “L’Aquila rinasce.” Meaning, “L’Aquila reborn,” the phrase describes the efforts to rebuild what was once a community of elegant squares and historic palazzi after a highly destructive 6.3 magnitude earthquake in 2009. L’Aquila’s centro storico still very much remains a construction site five years later. I Continue Reading
Where Italian Life Goes, The Sweet Habit of Confetti Follows
Behind large and ominous doors, they are clamoring over candy. A small wooden desk separates the brassy crowd from ladies in matching blue uniforms, judges trying to keep a little order in the court of candy. Arms flail in the air as if they are betting on horses or partaking in an auction. They are all vying for the sweetness of attention to try confetti, a sugarcoated candy so deeply rooted in Italian history, it practically should get a UNESCO stamp of approval. I head a little bit deeper into the building to see what all of the fuss is about amongst the demanding Italians. Little desks Continue Reading