Memorable Travel Experiences or Why I’m Desperate to Get on the Road again.

Going for a random drive with my son in Tuscany and ending up in a hilltop village that was filled with amazing sculptures of all shapes and sizes using so many different kinds of materials. I particularly remember the life sized motorcycle made out of nuts and bolts and the giant eye that reflected, in relief, a metal horse and jockey.

The very first time I stood upon foreign soil in Le Havre where our ship had stopped for a few hours. I remember the overwhelming feeling of wonder of being in a place so foreign and so far from home.

On that same trip a similar feeling standing overlooking an ancient battlefield somewhere in England. Again I was overwhelmed by wonder of the history associated with this place.

Being in Asia for the first time – Hong Kong – and seeing the completely incomprehensible (to me) signs advertising who knows what along the highway.

The kindness of the Scottish farmer on the Isle of Mull who allowed my husband and me to camp in our VW van on his field the night before we made the crossing to Iona.

Stopping in a small grocery store in the Scottish Highlands and being the translator for my husband and the storekeeper, neither of whom could understand the other.

The children, in a campsite just outside Montreal, conferring is a group and then coming to my husband and the chosen spokesperson said, “Dad, when we get to Montreal, please don’t speak french; your accent is so embarrassing. We’ll do the talking.”

Driving across Spain, heading for Barcelona, with no food and no money on a bank holiday. It was hot, dry and the kids were starving. Someone found a can of Spam (go figure!) and that was all there was to eat from breakfast until arriving in Barcelona in the early evening. We stopped in almost every city we came to to try and find an open bank, to no avail. Finally, a shopping centre on the outskirts of Barcelona with a place that would cash a traveller’s cheque and a McDonalds! Heaven!

A hotel in Datong with my cousin, his partner, my aunt and my daughter. We had all settled down for a rest in the afternoon when my aunt came to our room to ask for some help with her bathtub tap. Susie and I follow her to her room, I kneel down beside the bathtub and try to turn off the tap. Instead, I pull the entire side of the bathtub off and we are staring at the smelly rusty innards of the tub. We dissolve into fits of rather hysterical laughter.

Standing outside that same hotel and observing the many and varied types of transportation – wagons brimming with produce pulled by water buffalo, mopeds and motorcycles, beat up old cars hardly fit for the road, horses pulling wagons full of workers heading for the fields, overflowing hay carts.

Sitting in a outdoor cafe in Paris, smoking a cigarette, drinking an espresso and reading the International Harold Tribune. I’d said to my husband, “I did the Leaning Tower so the Eiffel is yours,” and left him to herd 5 kids up the tower while I escaped. I will always remember thinking to myself as I luxuriated in my solitude, “No one in the world knows where I am at this moment.”

Finally finding a restaurant that is open during the Chinese New Year celebrations in Phnom Penh. Entering the huge open space and realizing that we were the only foreigners in the place and nobody speaks English. Finally a waitress was located that had a very small English vocabulary and she looked after us for the duration of our meal. It was a gastronomic experience – cooking our own meal in the round metal container with the metal dome in the middle which Walter said looked like a hubcap. The propane under the table was turned on, water was poured into the trough around the dome and plate upon plate of various types of greens, noodles, fish, chicken and meat were brought to us. We cooked the meat on the dome and as it cooked it slipped down into the broth and we transferred that to our bowls. We had the best meal, we were the entertainment to the rest of the diners, we each had a beer and the grand total of our supper was $8.00!

Our tour of Pol Pot’s Killing Fields outside Phnom Penh. Riding through the outskirts of the city in the rattletrap of a tuk-tuk along the bumpy and dusty road, noticing how poor both the land and the people were, and there was so much garbage along the road and in the ditch. The tour was an extremely sobering experience but one we knew we had to have and I was deeply affected by the time we spent there. The Cambodians have done an amazing job of explaining that horrendous period of their history. The whole time I was walking around listening to the taped explanations I was thinking that all these terrible things happened only 40 years ago while I was in the throes of child raising and living a normal privileged life.

Experiencing my one and only bull fight. We were with Jamie in Mexico, driving around the Yucatan Peninsula when we came across a flyer nailed to a power pole advertising a bull fight that weekend. We found the small village just as men were building the bull ring and wandered around the area which was very festive and carnival-like. The ring, once it was finished, had two levels and we sat on the top level. It was a full-on bullfight with toreadors adorned in fancy rig and red capes and the bulls were fought to the kill. We were so close to the action that when I mentioned I wanted to take a photo of the toreadors, two of them turned and smiled for the picture. At the end of the fights, the bull ring was dismantled as quickly as it had been built. I’m glad I saw one bullfight but I will never attend another.

Snorkelling for the first time with David in the Parque Nacional Morrocoy in Venezuela. We were taken to a deserted beach by boat and left off to spend an hour or so. The beach was one of the nicest I had even been on and the snorkelling was amazing. We saw so many beautiful tropical fish and I felt like I was inside a tv.

There were so many amazing experiences on that trip with David: going to the First Communion of David’s host brother and his cousin in a spectacular cathedral; attending the lavish party for these kids – two parties, actually, one for the adults and the other for the kids. The kids’ party had clowns, jugglers, cotton candy, popcorn and circus tents; staying in the most basic of accommodations until finally I told David that we were able to afford something more than $10 a night; a scary bus trip back to Caracus, scary only because of delays the bus didn’t arrive at the main terminal until midnight and we’d been told it was extremely dangerous to arrive in the city any later than 9 pm. We had a ride to David’s home in a very sketchy taxi and I was sure we’d be taken somewhere and robbed and murdered. 

Arriving in Istanbul after spending three weeks in Italy with Ross and Colleen. I had planned and organized everything for that time – transportation and hotels – but once Walter and I arrived in  Turkey nothing was organized other than our hotel in Istanbul. We woke up our first morning and wondered what the hell we were doing there. Luckily, we found a small travel agency very close to our hotel and a very pleasant and efficient young man organized a tour for us. He booked all our hotels and the buses and all we had to do was to get to the various bus stations on time.

The hot air balloon ride in Cappadocia. We treated ourselves as a retirement gift to one of the expensive companies because we read that those were best because fewer people were in each basket. We were very happy we did that because there were only about 8 people in our basket and some baskets carried up to 20 people. We both were a little nervous (Walter does not like heights) but it was a fantastic experience. The weather was beautiful and it was so quiet floating around in the sky (along with a thousand other hot air balloons). Our pilot was so skilled that he landed the balloon right on the back of the truck. We finished off with a glass of champagne.

Staying in a cave hotel in Cappadocia.

Visiting the Hanging Monastery (1996) in China with Susie, Aunty Margaret, Philip, Chantal and her parents. It is a series of wooden halls and pavilions connected by corridors and bridges suspended high up on a cliff (more than 50 m. above the ground) above Jinlong Canyon. It is the only existing temple in China that houses three religions – Toaism, Buddhism and Confucianism. There is absolutely no way this kind of site would be open to tourists in Canada.

Our first Christmas away from home in Rabat – out of money (Walter bought me a chocolate bar as a present) and all the banks were closed, out of gas, and running out of camping gaz so our Christmas dinner was peanut butter sandwiches. Hearing the people in the campsite singing stupid Christmas carols—I was really out of sorts

Learning to ski in Austria which was purely by chance. Getting to go to Tiger Leaping Gorge, a place I had so desperately wanted to see only because I was fascinated by the name. Rounding the corner in great anticipation after a long hot hike and seeing the Library at Petra for the first time. Spending a couple of days in Dubai. Our very fancy stateroom on the boat in Halong Bay, Vietnam, which we scored by mistake because the people assigning rooms thought Walter was the Canadian Ambassador to Thailand while it was my cousin Philip. He and his family were assigned a room below us not nearly as fancy. And, no, we didn’t offer to trade. Spending time with my bestie in England or Wales or Italy or France.

Yeah, I’m still missing travel.