Seven Top Things to Do In Rehoboth Beach DE Before and After The Crowds Converge

June 17, 2014, 12:17 pm

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Rehoboth Beach DE has been on the Mid-Atlantic summer-fun radar since the turn of last century, but with a growing culinary and LGBT scene, it's been expanding its reach.



The award-winning New York based newspaper and magazine writer, Michael Luongo (author of Gay Travels in the Muslim World), says "Rehobeth has a slower less intense pace than Fire Island, or even Provincetown. More New Yorkers should get to know it, rather than only letting Philly, DC, and Baltimore people have it to themselves."



If you want to score a seat at the best restaurants, pay a fraction of what you'd pay at hotels in the high season, or just enjoy some breathing room in this family-friendly town - for all types of families - come between Memorial day and mid-June or in September after Labor Day. Then hit these hot spots - a list that is merely a jumping off point and a sampling of the best of the best. Much more to find and explore on GetawayMavens.com.



1. Walk or bike the Boardwalk. It's a mile of clean and wholesome enterprises - like "Henna" tattoos, old-timey photo studios and the foods of beach summers staring you in the face. Share a tub of Thrashers fries. Stand on line for Kohr's Frozen Custard. And stop in for samples of Salt Water Taffy at the "Willy Wonka of Rehoboth," Dolle's.



2. Feel the weight of a woolen bathing suit at the Rehoboth Beach Museum. Below-the-knee itchy beach-wear typically absorbed thirty pounds of sea-water, and this little history museum features a pail of cement weighing the same so that you can get an idea what our ancestors had to deal with. Makes you wonder why anyone would want to go swimming at all.



3. Book a table at Blue Moon Restaurant where Chef Lion Gardner works wonders in the kitchen and wait staff like Stella make diners feel like part of the family. Exceptional cuisine is inventive - e.g. moist and perfectly prepared Miso Glazed Salmon and textural and complex Jerusalem Artichoke Soup, and lip-smacking cocktails come in mason jars. After dinner, walk through a door into the adjoining Cashetta's Cabaret to see Disco-hit goddess, Pam Stanley belting out the best from the 80's and other wickedly irreverent shows.



4. Order from-scratch Turkish salads, Tea and Coffee at Semra's Mediterranean Grill., 19 Rehoboth Ave. Welcome to the best of authentic Turkish dining in this very unlikely location on the crowded Ocean Block of Rehoboth Beach Ave. And don't pass up the Iskender Platter (named after Alexander the Great, $16.95) - sliced gyro over Pita bread with spicy tomato sauce.



5. Try stewed rabbit, Crab Ravioli or other unique game and seafood dishes at the very fine Back Porch Cafe. End your meal with "Flaming House Coffee" - set on fire tableside with the help of Galliano and Kahlua. Celebrating its 40th anniversary, the Back Porch has obviously not lost its touch.



6. Pet a Parakeet at the Boardwalk Plaza Hotel. The lobby of this Victorian themed hotel is stuffed with plants, a real RCA Victrola and two engaging birds - one an African Grey named Peanut (as old as the hotel itself) and an affectionate parakeet named Emro who will be happy to pop up on your hand and offer the birdie equivalent of a smooch.



7. If Samantha and Darrin left a big TVland impression on you, book a simpatico room at the charming Bewitched and BeDazzled B&B. All rooms are clever takes on the TV show, Bewitched, or movie stars from Hollywood's Golden Age - with modern and luxurious amenities and extras. Owner Inez Conover is a bundle of contradictions. She's a lesbian who once dated hometown High-School friend, Bruce Springsteen ("I went out with a guy if he was in a band or could fix my car") and she was on the cusp of technology in the corporate world and now presides over a frilly, fun B&B. Room rates include a multi-course gourmet breakfast, free parking, free wi-fi, liqueurs, popcorn, and free use of towels, chairs and umbrellas.

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Edge of Tomorrow as Spiritual Travel Metaphor

June 17, 2014, 12:21 pm

≫ Next: 10 Things To See If You Visit Ghana

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I just saw the movie Edge of Tomorrow, and it's everything the critics say it is; smart, edgy, funny, and fresh. Yet it is so much more than its slogan -- Live. Die. Repeat. -- would indicate, because it looks no deeper than a video game (despite its high concept, that's all Inception was to me - a video game with a halfway-decent plot). This film, I came to realize, was a spiritual travel metaphor. Its lofty ideals said no more and no less than that through reincarnation, you can learn the spiritual lessons you need to and ascend to the next level of life, where you no longer have to fight to win.



In the movie, (spoiler alert!) Tom Cruise plays a very reluctant Major Cage, a guy in media relations who is forced into battle though he faints at the sight of blood. When he dies on the field in the futuristic equivalent of the Battle of Normandy, he wakes up the morning before the firefight, àla Groundhog Day. As he repeats the day over and over, each time getting further along before he dies, the first lessons he learns become baby steps compared to the ones he must master. Though at first he works with Emily Blunt, who mentors him through training, the turning point of the film is where he recognizes he must go it alone to get them both through alive.



So what does this have to do with my own work as a travel writer and a tour leader? I have come to believe, through my own spiritual lessons on my travels, that we are born each lifetime needing to "wake up" (just like they showed us in that other paean to spirituality, The Matrix). Once we do, our jobs are simply to grow as much as we can.

I see this over and over with guests on our tours. I get to watch them take what they think is a vacation (I know it's stretching it, but a little like Cage thinking he's on a tour of duty) only to discover it's really a spiritual awakening. In Edge of Tomorrow, Cage finds out he's got to master the scariest robots I've ever seen, much like I believe we must do about the things we fear the most, in order to survive, grow, and succeed. The big difference is that Cage is aware of everything that came before. When we humans get that gift, and it happens few and far between, we call that person an Ascended Master. Jesus & Buddha are the most standard examples of that type of person, who retains his or her thruline across all lifetimes.

Once you have that first awakening, you get the opportunity to grow beyond your wildest dreams, just as Cage goes from being absolutely terrified to plausibly becoming the savior of the planet. Like that character, you can build on what you have learned in the past, tapping unconsciously--or with vague awareness--into the perfected lessons, finally reaching that point of conscious mastery. Until then... Live. Die. Repeat.

Edge of Tomorrow & The Matrix, all associated characters & images are © Warner Bros.

10 Things To See If You Visit Ghana

June 17, 2014, 12:32 pm

≫ Next: Greece's Rock-Pinnacle Churches: Suspended in Mid-Air on the Looney Front, Part I

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If the World Cup has taught us anything about travel so far, it's that we're still not very well-versed in Africa's diversity.

Delta Air Lines caused a kerfuffle on Monday when, in a congratulatory tweet to the United States men's national soccer team, the airline included a photo of a giraffe to represent the nation of Ghana. Only problem is, there aren't giraffes in Ghana.

And while you won't see those long-necked wonders there, Ghana is a vibrant and buzzing travel destination. Get your passport ready... because these sights actually ARE in Ghana.

Cape Coast
Once the largest slave-trade center in West Africa, this (now) laid-back fishing village oozes somber history.


Kakum National Park
The canopy walkway dangles about 130 feet above an evergreen rainforest home to 400 butterfly species.


Kejetia Market
Behold: 11,000 stalls of snacks, shoes, clothes, beads, sandals, bracelets and more.


Lake Bosumtwi
Ghana's only "true inland lake" is nestled in a meteorite crater. Thirsty for the glassy surface, little villages crowd its perimeter.


Accra Sports Stadium (aka Ohene Djan Stadium)
The capital's massive venue is home to the Hearts of Oak, a professional soccer club. It was upgraded in 2008 to help host the Africa Cup of Nations tournament.


Elmina Castle
Built by the Portuguese in 1482, it's now a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The modern town around it has a bustling fish market.


The JayNii Cultural Festival
Performers from all over gather to "produce the rhythms of the planet" on indoor and outdoor stages.


Aburi Botanical Gardens
Lush trees dot the Akuapem Hills about an hour from Ghana's capital. Take a mountain bike tour through the greater Aburi area if you're down for adventure.


Fort Amsterdam
Formerly an English outpost, the fort was restored and subsequently reopened to tourists in the 1950s.


Some awesome barbershops
In West Africa, barber shop culture is about relaxing, socializing and meeting up with friends. Oh, and you'll get a great haircut, too.

Greece's Rock-Pinnacle Churches: Suspended in Mid-Air on the Looney Front, Part I

June 17, 2014, 12:39 pm

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Some say it started 10 million years ago, other 25 to 30 million, yet others 60 million years ago. Just for the heck of it, let's say 25,636,666 B.C., give or take a week. It was then that Mother Earth got a bad case of tectonic indigestion and burped up the floor of what was then an inland sea on Greece's Thessaly plain.

Further eructations caused nearby mountains to move in and compress the newly emerged sediment.

Meteora overview
Then aeons of erosion and battering by wind and water (sounds like a rock band) produced the most incredible fantasy landscape of soaring rock monoliths, spires, towers, crenelated walls, table-top mesas, ramparts and buttresses soaring a 1,000 feet above the plain that would do Tolkien's Middle Earth or some other phantasmagorical Game of Thrones landscape proud.

As if that was not enough, religion had to get into the act as well. Greek orthodox monks, who earlier lived hermits' lives in the myriad caves on the rock face, started building fortress-like red-roofed monasteries on the inaccessible pinnacles in the 14th and 15th centuries -- to get even closer to God on high and even further away from invading Ottoman infidels below.

Another overview
Over the ages they built 24 in all, six of which still function today. Thus was Meteora -- suspended in mid-air in Greek -- one of Greece's most visited tourist sites, born.

The vast striated grey crags soar up over the little towns of Kalambaka and Kastraki, looming over twisting lanes and red-roofed houses in every conceivable shape and form -- massive mastodons and other prehistoric creatures, ogres, demons, fiends, castles, humongous curtains, twisted towers -- and yes, Yours Truly sees a phallus or three.

Kalambaka

Kastraki
Once the only way to get to the monasteries at the top was by retractable wooden ladders or by being hauled up by rope, but about a hundred years ago steep steps were hacked into the rock face, and these steps are now accessible by an asphalt road that climbs round the back of the cliffs to the top.

Another Kastraki view

And another

The red-roofed complexes with their Byzantine churches in their lofty aeries are indeed pretty, but it's their incredible perches atop the pinnacles that make the place -- and not the hordes upon hordes of icons within, the hordes upon hordes of tourists taking selfies without, or the hordes upon hordes of faithful kissing the icons.

What a great way to spread MERS, SARS and a host of other delights. Come on now, anybody for a nice dose of herpes? Kiss that icon over there. A people conned by icons.

Kastraki at sunset
Despite, or rather because of its outstanding natural endowment, this place must be absolutely abominable at the height of the tourist season, with vast armies ascending and descending the miles of steep steps cut into the rock face. Even in mid-spring there's quite a flow but not enough to totally overwhelm you and spoil the experience.

Perhaps the best way to avoid getting ophthalmic indigestion is to visit the six functioning monasteries over three days, taking in two on each day. The rest of the time can be spent hiking to the less accessible ruins of those no longer in use.

Great Meteoron and Varlaam on top, Roussanou and St. Nikolaos below


Starting from the west, the Holy Monastery of Great Meteoron, the largest, is a collection of red-roofed square bloc buildings with frescoes and icons of martyrised saints, dominated by a 12-sided central dome.

Great Meteoron

Great Meteoron within
A couple of hundred yards down the road from Great Meteoron, and slightly lower, comes Varlaam Monastery with superb views up to its larger neighbor from its summit where, according to legend, the monks had to drive away a monster living in a cave before they could establish residence.

Varlaam

Inside Varlaam

Varlaam saints
Further eastward one of the most spectacularly perched of the six floats in its isolated rock-top aerie. At the start of the valley leading back to Kastrika atop a craggy monolith surging out of the green forests, Roussanou Monastery isn't even a monastery by the standard use of the word. It's a nunnery (Get thee thither, Ophelia!).

Roussanou

Since 1988, it has been occupied by 13 nuns, whom Yours Truly has just now got in a tizzy as I never saw the 'photos verboten' sign. You naughty boy, stop flashing your camera and anything else among all those wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling people-conning icons.

Another Roussanou view

And another

If you continue down the road back towards Kastraki, you will come to the St. Nikolaos Monastery rising atop a steep pinnacle, even if at a lower altitude closer to the valley floor. It is full of yet more icons conning the people into kissing them, and decorated with frescoes of the Passion of Christ, Jonah and the Whale, and the Last Judgment.

St. Nikolaos

Another St. Nikolaos view

If you move to the most easterly of the monasteries along the upper road, you will come to another nunnery, the St. Stefanos Monastery. This one demands the least effort to climb to it from the car park. It was bombed during the Second World War, desecrated in the Greek civil war immediately afterwards and only resumed full service in 1961.

St. Stefanos


Another St. Stefanos view
The most stunning aerie of all, however, is a mile back to the west, above Roussanou, soaring on its solitary rock plinth over the valley below, separated from the road by a gorge which you have to descend before climbing back again to the jewel atop its summit - the Agia Triada, or Holy Trinity.

Holy Trinity

This spectacular perch was not lost on the makers of James Bond films, who used it as a setting in For Your Eyes Only. Yours Truly does not, however, follow in Roger Moore's crampon steps to scale the vertical rock face.


Another Holy Trinity view
I use the steep steps like everybody else.

Outside on the rocks, people are looking especially idiotic taking selfies. As in all the monasteries women wearing jeans have to put on wrap-arounds to make God, the Son, the Holy Ghost, the Holy Mother and a billion icons believe that they're really wearing skirts.

The icons, meanwhile, are still being slobbered over in an effort to pass on every communicable disease imaginable.


And another
A monopati, a stone footpath leads all the way back from behind Holy Trinity to Kalambaka. It's only about a mile or so, a glorious, sometimes steeply descending walk in the woods amid massive outcroppings and gargantuan boulders with dramatic views over the town far below and across to snow-streaked mountain peaks on the horizon. Yellow and purple flowers speckle the dense green.

Roussanou and St. Nikolaos
It emerges at the top of Kalambaka only a couple of hundred yards from an ancient Byzantine church, whose age is variously given as sixth to seventh century, or ninth to 11th century, with frescoes dating from the 11th century -- or perhaps the 14th . Called the Church of the Dormition of the Mother of God, it's a quite small stone brick building with a separate tower, but it's evocative.

Byzantine church

Needless to say, inside it's wall-to-wall icons, just smothered with them. Once more an icon-conned people.


Roussanou icon


Turn left for Game of Thrones

By the same author: Bussing The Amazon: On The Road With The Accidental Journalist, available on Kindle, with free excerpts at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KNCGD9M and in print version on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/1499681984:

And Swimming With Fidel: The Toils Of An Accidental Journalist, available on Kindle, with free excerpts here, and in print version on Amazon in the U.S here.

America's Best Small Towns

June 17, 2014, 1:10 pm

≫ Next: Why Montpellier's Old Town Is One of France's Perfect Little Cities

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Nothing embodies classic Americana quite like small towns. For the second year in a row, we've compiled a list that highlights some of the best places in the country you don't hear about every day. This year, we've focused on destinations with populations under 30,000 that have a vibrancy of their own and year-round appeal. Our list is made up of detour-worthy towns all over the U.S. that have strong cultural offerings or great outdoor adventures, in addition to standout dining and lodging options. For your next small-town getaway, head to any of these 10 remarkable spots.

by Michael Alan Connelly and Abbey Chase

Michael Alan Connelly is the Editor of Fodors.com. Follow him on Twitter: @malanconnelly.



More from Fodors.com:
World's 15 Most Unique Beaches
10 Best Road Trips to Take This Summer
10 Incredible Art Museums in Repurposed Buildings

Why Montpellier's Old Town Is One of France's Perfect Little Cities

June 17, 2014, 1:14 pm

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Want to spend a few days strolling through narrow, centuries old streets, viewing the old masters and modern art, savoring southwestern French cuisine, and listening to music in the squares? Come to Montpellier, the eighth largest city in France and just a little over three hours from Paris on the TGV train. You'll ride through the country's scenic breadbasket with fields of wheat, mustard, and poppies at your side. See Rail Europe.



Stay at Hotel Baudon de Mauny, an eight room guest house with super friendly and helpful hosts. It's right smack in the center of the historic district and a short walk to any section of town. Because only residents have cars, you don't have to jump up on curbs to avoid the traffic in the winding alleyways as you sightsee.



The inside foyer and entrance to Baudon de Mauny once led to horse stables, which now house a gift, shop, tea parlor, and art gallery. The recently restored late 1700s residence has an elegant eighteenth century parlor, but cutting edge modern bedrooms, art and sculpture.



Eat at once of the city's many cafes and restaurants. Boris, around the corner from Baudon de Mauny, and not far from the main square, is cozy and has excellent southwestern French cuisine.


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Montpellier's main square, Place de Comedie, has an opera house, the tourist bureau, and the tram line along the edge. By day merchants sell wares at tented stalls, By night dancers and musicians perform, while tourists stroll by licking ice cream cones. Stairs near the tall building to the left lead you through a shopping center and on into Antigone, the neoclassical section of the city built as a housing project in the nineteenth century.



One of a number of colorful trams in Montpellier



Musicians play on a tree lined boulevard just off the Place de Comedie.




Musee Fabre has over 800 works, including such European masters as Veronese, Courbet and Poussin, plus moderns like Soulages.





Walk to the northwestern end and wander through the medical school, dating back to the 12th Century. The entrance to Saint Pierre Cathedral has outlandishly huge cone towers.





Stand in a park at the end of Promenade du Peyrou and gaze over at the huge aqueduct reaching out over the valley.





Shop at unusual small stores like Pomme de Reinette.



Side trip for sunny day: take the bus to Espiguette, a huge nearby beach. Get info at tourist office.

Top 5 Ways to Celebrate 4th of July

June 17, 2014, 1:16 pm

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Ah, Independence Day... the crown jewel of summer extravaganzas. Because, really - on what other holiday are you encouraged to eat, drink, and bask in the sun whilst reflecting on all that's great about the U.S. of A? There are no poignant memorial services, no "summer is over" dread (I'm looking at you, Labor Day). The Fourth of July is one giant, pride-filled, nationwide celebration, and the below are my top five suggestions for making the absolute most of it.

5. Throw a BBQ. Hosting a BBQ has the distinct advantage of forcing everyone to come to you, plus, guests are basically delighted to eat pretty much anything that's been cooked over a grill, so your menu can be as simple as hot dogs and hamburgers or as fancy as steak and shrimp. Add some salads, a few bowls of chips and dip, some beer and soft drinks on ice, and some patriotic plates and napkins, and you've got yourself a celebration.

4. Host a Bonfire. While this may seem limited to an after-dark activity, it's really a full day at the beach/river/lake/creek for you since you'll need to arrive early to stake out a claim - and it's so much fun! Instruct guests to bring their own chairs and blankets, and pack an array of coolers with drinks, snacks, and sandwiches, plus hotdogs and marshmallows for roasting over the fire. Firewood, matches, and roasting sticks are of course a must, as is an iPod (with speaker) loaded with a patriotic playlist. Distributing Fourth of July sparklers is encouraged but optional.

3. Organize a Block Party. Although it takes a lot of advance planning - plus the full cooperation of your neighbors - nothing says Americana and fosters a feeling of community like an old-fashioned block party. Just imagine red, white, and blue balloons (distributed in advance) on every mailbox; patriotic decorations on every porch (offering a prize for best decor will motivate people to participate); and tables laden with delicious dishes (strictly potluck). Be sure to check with your city about permit requirements, etc., well in advance, and plan to divide the bulk of the planning and work with a few key, enthusiastic participants.

2. Picnic in a Park. The art of picnicking has recently taken a glamorous spin, but in my opinion, retro is the way to go for Fourth of July. An ice-filled cooler of Cokes (bottles only, please), a hamper of cold fried chicken, a batch of potato salad, a tray of deviled eggs, a bag of chips, and a gorgeous apple pie are really all the sustenance you need for a sundrenched day of softball and badminton. And this menu is American - throw in some Hostess snack cakes and a dispenser filled with lemonade, and watch how the kids at surrounding picnics cast envious looks your way while regarding their quinoa salad with disdain. Dress things up with a star-spangled tablecloth and you're golden.

1. Go to See Fireworks. This may seem like a given, but a shocking number of adults are put off by the inevitable traffic jams and parking snafus that go hand-in-hand with the No. 1 draw of Fourth of July. But consider this: Some of my favorite childhood memories are of sitting snug between my parents in a nearby high school parking lot, oohing and aahing over every burst of light in the sky while the sweet smell of ozone hung in the air. The rockets' red glare and sounds bursting in air were absolute magic - and for a few moments in time, I and the surrounding oohers and aahers (including my dad, who would most certainly curse the traffic on the long ride there and back) shared the mutual awe of imagining the view that our forefathers had.

So, whether you BBQ at home, host the entire block, or venture out to catch some fireworks, don't miss the opportunity to celebrate this Fourth of July - it's what amazing summer memories are made of.

8 Simple Must-Do Airplane Exercises

June 17, 2014, 1:59 pm

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Flying to a much-anticipated vacation? To a quick weekend getaway? On another business trip? Here are some inflight exercises to get you to your destination feeling fresh and ready to go. And don't forget to stay well hydrated!

(For more exercises, go to Fallstop.net.)


SEATED EXERCISES
• Ankle exercises: circle the foot out 10 times, circle in 10 times, then point and flex 10 times.
• Shoulder and neck exercises: reach your shoulders up to your ears, hold for five seconds, release down for five seconds. Repeat three times. Look to your right, left, up, down.
• March in seat: hold in your abs and lift your right knee, then left knee, for 20 knee raises total.
• Buttock exercise: squeeze the buttocks 10 times, and hold the 10th time for 10 seconds. Repeat set three times.
• Back stretch: sit up tall, spiral head right towards the back of the plane (as if you are looking at the person behind you) and hold for 10 seconds. Repeat on left side.

STANDING EXERCISES (in the back of the plane)
• Ankle raises: stand tall, feet shoulder-width in parallel position. Lift heels up and down 10 times, and hold in the air on the 10th time for 10 seconds. Repeat.
• March in place: focus on your posture and lengthen your spine. March in place 20 times.
• Calf stretches: bend left knee, lunge right foot back, heel down for 10 seconds to stretch calf. Repeat on the left.

Let me know how this works! Safe travels!

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Find Out Which City Best Matches Your Political Views

June 17, 2014, 2:08 pm

≫ Next: In Search of Americana? Try Paris. For the Real Founding Fathers, it's not just Philadelphia and Boston

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Ever wondered which city best fits your political views? Thanks to a new online tool from Clarity Campaign Labs, a progressive data analytics and consulting firm, you may finally be ready to pack up your bags and move!

The seven-question quiz determines which zip codes in a given state most closely match a respondent’s political leanings, with the top zip code result indicating the probability that the average resident there possesses similar political traits.

The tool uses Clarity Campaign Labs’ national models on the National Voter File Co-Op from political data organizations SmartVAN and TargetSmart Communications.

Take the quiz below:

In Search of Americana? Try Paris. For the Real Founding Fathers, it's not just Philadelphia and Boston

June 17, 2014, 2:24 pm

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Travelers who enjoy American history but yearn for more exotic locales can follow the paths of the American Founders, many of whom spent significant time in Europe. Paris has much to offer visitors in search of American history.

In Paris one can also visit the birth place of today's only super power. A few blocks from the Saint-Germain-des-Pres metro stop, at 56 rue Jacob, you can find the site of the signing of the Treaty of Paris -- ending hostilities between the United States and Great Britain and the American Revolution. The plaque there today informs passers-by that Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and John Jay were all present.

But Paris is far too romantic a city for simply researching diplomatic history. The city of love figure prominently in the political history of the United States but tourists can also discover how the cities served as the backdrop to the intimate lives of the Founding Fathers. Many of the original buildings have long been replaced but some still stand and can be toured.

In Paris, one can see sites that caused John Adams so much distress but that enchanted Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and Gouverneur Morris. It was in Paris that Jefferson became intimately involved not only with his enslaved sixteen year old wife's half-sister, Sally Hemings, but he also became involved with a married woman, who some claim was the love of his life, Maria Cosway. Jefferson modeled Monticello after the hotel de Salm. Writing to Madame de Tessé in 1787 he gushed: "Here I am, Madame, gazing whole hours at the Maison quarrée, like a lover at his mistress. . . . This, you will say, was in rule, to fall in love with a fine woman: but, with a house! It is out of all precedent! No, madam, it is not without a precedent in my own history. While at Paris, I was violently smitten with the hotel de Salm, and used to go to the Thuileries almost daily to look at it." Today the hotel de Salm looks much as it did when Jefferson viewed it.


Benjamin Franklin spent nearly nine years living in Paris, where he famously secured French support for the American Revolution. He lived in Passy, which was then a suburb of the more expensive Paris. Today 62 rue Raynouard is a short walk from the Trocadero metro stop - a popular stop for visiting the Eiffel Tower. Franklin rented a house on a large estate here. Today the site is occupied by large residential buildings. This one carries a plaque commemorating his important stay - but not his reputation for wild flirtations with Parisian women.

Gouverneur Morris is perhaps best known (or should be) for penning the famous "We the People" preamble to the U.S. Constitution, words that underscored the essential rule by the people. Morris lived in Paris for nearly ten years and was involved with a married woman, Madame Adele de Flahaut. She lived in the Louvre where Morris often visited. He kept detailed diaries describing their affair and referred to their encounters in language of amusement - for example, to "celebrate the mysteries." He also seems to have enjoyed taking risks with being discovered such as in this entry: "After Dinner while the latter is playing the fortepiano, as she is near sighted . . . [we] almost perform the genial Act." Morris remained a bachelor until 57. Morris also traveled to London and other European cities, and wrote about encounters with prostitutes and married and unmarried women along the way.

Gouverneur Morris was injured as a young man, losing a leg. In one of his diary entries he noted visiting wounded soldiers at L'Hôtel national des Invalides in the heart of Paris. Morris called it "a most magnificent piece of architecture" and noted that "the chapel and the dome are sublime." But he was also quite sensitive to the pity that his colleagues exuded for the men. His host, he wrote, "heard a number of the "invalides" expressing their pity that so fine a man should have lost his leg. He did not perceive me give one of them a crown, or he would have known how to appreciate the compliment and the compassion." Today this building is open for tours and presents one of the finest domes in Paris.

Ian Anderson, a Space Nut?

June 17, 2014, 2:55 pm

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Who knew Ian Anderson, front-man for the seminal rock group Jethro Tull, is a space aficionado?

The singer and flautist, who grew during the Cold War, was impacted as much by events in the America-Russia space race as his fellow baby boomers and, over the years, has even written space references into his tunes.

Anderson also performed a live flute duet with NASA astronaut Catherine (Cady) Coleman at the International Space Station in 2011 on Yuri Gagarin's 50-year flight anniversary. The song covered, of course, was "Bouree," based on Bach's "Suite in E minor for Lute" and cemented in pop culture by Jethro Tull.

Anderson and I chatted about many things music, but the topic that really got his blood pumping was space. Following are excerpts from a fascinating conversation.

Jim Clash: You celebrated Gagarin's half-century flight anniversary performing a flute duet with Cady Coleman who was aboard ISS. What inspired that?

Ian Anderson: I did that night, yes, from Perm, Russia. I'm a child of the age of space exploration. I was born in 1947 at a time when Werner von Braun was in America helping develop rocket technology, and his counterparts from those Nazi years of innovative engineering were in Russia helping the Russians do the same. Before the age of puberty, I already was in a world where we knew about rockets and the dream of sending a man into space and to the moon. By the time I was 10, in fact, Sputnik took to the skies and that first 'beep, beep, beep' sound was played over the airwaves. For me growing up then, it was almost an emblem of something that was a dream coming true. When Gagarin went into space in '61, ahead of the Americans, those of us in the west who feared the Russians and what they represented were a little disappointed that Alan Shepard and some others managed to get up there in a less sensational way.

Clash: But, over the long haul, the west did prevail.

Anderson: The almighty dollar and promises and guarantees by JFK of getting a man on the moon all came true, and America had its day in July 1969. I think I was on tour in America at the time Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon.

Clash: That's right. You even wrote the song "For Michael Collins, Jeffrey and Me" on the "Benefit" album.

Anderson: Yes, for the guy who didn't get to step on the moon, which I find poignant in a rather sobering kind of reality. To have been part of all of that yet having in a way drawn the short straw and not get covered in glory, since he didn't get to do what [Buzz] Aldrin and Armstrong did, seemed a little unfair. I felt a moment of sympathy and sensitivity about that. Ironically, 40-odd years later my son-in-law, an actor, played Michael Collins in a docudrama about the first moon landing. By pure coincidence, he got to play the guy who didn't go to the moon, although he did get to kill a lot of zombies in his role in "The Walking Dead."

Clash: Do you have any interest in visiting ISS yourself?

Anderson: I do have an interest, but I'm not physiologically or mentally equipped. I'm 66, and it would take a year of my time and tens of millions of dollars to visit. I know from frequent e-mails with my friend, the lady astronaut, that it is not something at all I would feel comfortable to do. But she loved it! She was desperately unhappy to come back to Earth. To me, it's just insane; I wouldn't last 10 minutes. I'd be stir crazy. I'm claustrophobic and would not be a happy bunny up there. It's bad enough flying--when I have to get on an airplane to Australia, for example, I'm scared sh*tless. Even when I was very young, I knew I was not going to be a guy who was going into space. But my flute has been there and came back on one of the last Space Shuttle missions.

Coleman, by the way, is scheduled to perform with her flute at the world-famous Explorers Club on Oct. 25 as part of "Space Stories" where the likes of Apollo 16 moonwalker Charles Duke will be presenting. Wouldn't it be something if Anderson showed up with his own flute for another duet - this time on terra firma?

Cady, are you up for it? Ian, are you listening?

Jim Clash, an adventure journalist, is author of "The Right Stuff: Interviews With Icons of the 1960s" (AskMen, 2012) and "Forbes To The Limits" (Wiley, 2003).

Teen Stowaway Can't Believe He Survived In Wheel Well On Hawaii Flight

June 18, 2014, 10:47 am

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SAN JOSE, Calif. (AP) — A Somali immigrant who survived an arduous flight to Hawaii stowed away in a jet's wheel well says he was trying to reach his mom, a refugee in Ethiopia who says her teenage son broke down in tears this week during their first call since his ordeal.

Mother Ubah Mohammed Abdule, who is seeking U.S. asylum, told The Associated Press Wednesday her son, who she hasn't seen in eight years, cried on the phone Tuesday and told her he thought she was dead. "He says, 'Mom you are not dead for sure? I thought you died in a boat trip. This is incredible news.' Then he became silent for a moment. Then he cried," she said.

Yahya Abdi, 15, said Tuesday that he ran away from his Santa Clara home, hopped a fence at Mineta San Jose International Airport in April and climbed aboard the Hawaiian Airlines plane because it was the first flight he could find heading west, and he wanted to go see his mother. Yahya, who described crouching in the wheel well and covering his ears at take-off, made his first public comments during a Google Chat on Tuesday to KPIX-5 (http://cbsloc.al/1lCIvg4 ).

"It was above the clouds, I could see through the little holes," Yahya said, who gave short, stilted answers.

When asked if he can believe he survived the trip, Yahya paused several seconds: "Uh, no." But he also said he wasn't scared.

Yahya survived the flight at 35,000 feet despite low oxygen and freezing temperatures. Video footage from the Maui airport shows him dropping to the tarmac about an hour after the jet landed.

The teen said he made the decision to get on board the plane because he didn't want to live with his stepmom and wanted to find his mother, who he hasn't seen since he was seven years old.

Yahya is staying at a temporary foster home. He will be a junior in high school this fall and plans to live with his aunt in the Minneapolis area.

Yahya has been spending his days doing normal teenage things. "I've been going to the movie theater and playing video games," he told KPIX-5.

Earlier this year, police said they were investigating possible criminal charges against the boy for climbing the airport fence, and that the teen was being cared for by child protective services.

The Santa Clara County Office of the Public Defender confirms it has been appointed to "advise and assist" the boy, but could not say in what capacity due to juvenile privacy rules.

A family spokeswoman forwarded questions on Wednesday from AP to father Abdilahi Yusuf, a Santa Clara taxi driver, about why his son is not living with him. As with past requests, Yusuf has not responded. The spokeswoman, Zahra Billoo with the Council on American-Islamic Relations, says the family wants to maintain their privacy.

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Associated Press reporter Abdi Guled contributed to this story from Mogadishu, Somalia.

My Recent Trip to Russia

June 18, 2014, 11:36 am

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Six months ago I started planning for a trip to Russia. I was to accompany a group of students and faculty on a two-week educational exchange. We were going to visit Moscow, Saint Petersburg and Yaroslavl.

I had always wanted to visit this nation. I knew that many changes had occurred since my days in the Air Force when the Cold War was still raging on, but images of the Soviet Union still lurked in my mind. I wanted to ask Russians what they consider to be the biggest difference between their country and the United States. Does the Cold War propaganda of the past still linger in their minds? I also had more personal questions, and worries that go far beyond the battles of days long past. From the trip's planning stage to my last day in Moscow, I wondered and worried about my secret, but the beauty and differences I found in Russia kept me busy every moment.

When the plane left the runway in New York City, I tried to communicate with the passengers on each side of me. There were plenty of smiles but little conversation. I knew I was way out of my comfort zone, but I was still excited. Soon I was going to be living with a beautiful host family. They have three girls, ages 16, 8 and 3. I had a slight hint of apprehension if not fear as I mentally prepared myself for the family visit. I hoped to share my family and my values and show them that we all want the same things, that we all want to be loved, to grow and to be provided with the same opportunities to prosper. It is the same speech I give to groups in the United States, but without the LGBT -- and definitely not the "T" -- message.

As I prepared for the trip, I read troublesome news stories. I questioned whether I should even risk the trip. My family and some of my friends suggested that I wait for a better time, but I could not stop thinking that I might never have the opportunity to go again.

The more I researched the status of LGBT rights in Russia, the more I came to the conclusion that I must keep my family history top-secret. I could not discuss transgender children or transgender rights without real risks. It seemed surreal to think that I might create a "situation" abroad. I sought advice from people in tune with the politics in Russia, and they suggested that I still go and just be a tourist and enjoy the trip.

Soon I was walking around Red Square. As I soaked in this world treasure, I tried to imagine the millions of interactions that had occurred since the 18th century, when Catherine the Great started to build the square that we see today. The history of this place has been filled with glory and fear. I thought about how hard change can be when people are afraid and helpless.

I reminded myself that fear can motivate people to do things they never imagined. My own fears helped me change in ways I never thought possible. I learned to love and help support the transgender community, to become a voice for change. As I snapped pictures of Saint Basil's Cathedral, a student asked me, "What is the big smile for?" I said, "Freedom." She smiled. I think she thought I was talking about national freedom in general, not the basic freedoms we have recently won for LGBT people in the United States. I thought about how amazing change has been under President Obama's leadership. I am hopeful that this will continue, with those who come after him continuing to raise the bar even higher.

The people in Moscow appeared to be a bit standoffish, but they did not seem too concerned that a bunch of Americans were in their city. With all the news hype, I guess I imagined that we might see some hostility, but it was just the opposite. As we traveled as loud and often-animated Americans, the people provided numerous positive interactions. I had special moments with people in each city. Each brief encounter revealed that even during times of political unrest, people from around the world are still the same.

I brought a number of small gifts-- a few small Disney dolls, law-enforcement honor coins and a few special American coins -- to help break the ice. I presented a Walt Disney commemorative coin to our train attendant; she was all business and very serious until I showed her pictures of my babies and gave her the coin. She did not speak English but said "Mickey Mouse"; she smiled and said "thank you" many times. When we left the train I received a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was a special moment in time, some 21 hours north of Moscow.

When we arrived at our northern destination, a young soldier stepped off the train and into a large crowd of his friends. It was as if we'd been thrown back in time by several decades. His brown wool uniform easily could have been 1950s vintage apparel. He was beaming as he stepped off the train, receiving hugs and cheers from friends and family.

It must have been very odd to see a group of Americans step off the train right behind him. No one seemed to notice at first; they were caught up in the moment, celebrating this young man's return home. I was the last person off the train, and I too was soaking up the moment. I was wondering if it was safe to join them. I thought to myself, "I wish I had had the same opportunity when I arrived home from military service years ago." Within minutes I found myself walking up to that young soldier and presenting him with a Sheriff's Office Honor Coin from the City of Portland, Maine. The entire group went silent, but as he carefully inspected the gift, a huge smile appeared, and he said something to his friends. A big cheer broke out, but before I could enjoy the moment, I was quickly rushed away by our group leader, because I was lagging behind. I wondered what had been said and how the story might be told when he arrived at his home.

Time and time again I met and shared special moments with people in this huge country. I learned that once you get to know these somewhat closed and cautious people, they let you in. When they did, we shared stories and the things we love. Family comes first in Russia; they are hardworking people who want their children to have more than they had. They shared their homes, special meals, and banya (sauna), and we shared gifts from each other's countries and our hearts. I explained that it is the same way in the United States, but I stopped short of telling more about how we are different and how my family is different while also the same.

I am home now, wishing I might have told them more of the truth. I wish I could have discussed what it means to raise a transgender child. I wanted to help them understand that I learned that it is OK to be afraid, but that we cannot let our fears control our minds. This approach would be a great way for both countries to start a new dialogue.

I would like to have explained that when I meet people in the United States who are afraid or uncomfortable with transgender children or transgender rights, my most successful strategy is to share common bonds and tell the truth. I know from experience that doing so helps reach people's hearts so that we can all have the chance to learn and change our minds.

I met some amazing young people and a few great families in Russia. It was difficult to not be totally honest. I hope that I can now begin to communicate with my new friends from the safety of my own home. I hope that the bonds we formed will be strong enough to keep the doors open. Maybe someday the right dialogue will create positive change so that I might be allowed to return with my family so that they can experience the beautiful things I experienced in a land that is quite different from ours while still somewhat the same in many loving and proud ways. I hope we will continue to build on common ground so that our children might make the future safe and productive for all.

You Could Watch The World Cup Right Now, OR You Could Watch These Baby Elephants Play Soccer

June 18, 2014, 11:47 am

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This sweet soccer match scores a massive GOOOOAAAAALLLLL for cuteness.

Most people are now deep into the 2014 World Cup mania, and the caretakers and elephants at the Nairobi Nursery in Kenya are no exception.

Look at that pass!


This has to be the cutest dive we've ever seen!


Good, err, hustle?


From what we can tell, it's black and red plaid versus yellow and red plaid at first, then it just sort of dissolves into adorable chaos. Who wins, you ask? The answer: All of us, for getting to witness the cutest soccer match in history.

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An American Undercover at Ascot

June 18, 2014, 12:29 pm

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After six Pimm's Cups, 20 squandered pounds, two purchased hats and one final race at Royal Ascot, the five-day premier horse racing event in England, Rachel and I board the crowded train back to London and ended up sitting in the First Class car. We'd somehow found ourselves, two Americans, returning from a day at the races.

A slim woman in her thirties with long, blonde hair enters our small coach. "Just ladies in here, is it?" she asks in an English accent, smiling and glancing at us. "This is the smallest First Class coach I have ever seen." She adjusts her black-and-white checked dress and slips her shoes off as she sits down at the table next to us.

"Did you win any today?" I ask her.

"I won on every race," she says, smoothing her blonde hair into a long ponytail. "It was a winning streak." She looks around and points to the narrow aisle between our seats.

"Is there going to be a drinks cart on this train?" she asks. "How could it even fit in here?"

She places her black hat on the seat next to her and we start to make small talk about the strict fashion rules at Royal Ascot this year. "Oh, I just thought the Royal Enclosure this year was appalling. Just appalling. Some girls slipped in wearing mini skirts, as if it's a nightclub. I have nice legs, too, but this is Ascot. A rule is a rule," she says. "Dresses should hit the knee and hats need to have a base of four inches or more." She gestures emphatically:

"Those are the rules. That's what makes it so English. That's what makes it Ascot."

"My mother won't even come to Royal Ascot anymore," she adds.

•••

Most girls grow out of the crazy horse phase as soon as they discover boys, but my friend Rachel -- who is 28 years old -- was intent on getting me to attend Royal Ascot with her this year. I agreed, even though I knew little about it: I assumed it was an English horse race and that we'd get to drink gin outside. It was only after an elaborate effort to secure tickets (or badges) to the restricted Royal Enclosure section -- a process that, for Americans, involves writing to the U.S. ambassador to the UK and sending in character references by mail -- that I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into. Suddenly, it began to feel less like we were going to a horse race and more like we were going to Prince Charming's ball.

The five-day horseracing event dates back to 1711. Members of the Royal Family are always in attendance. The dress code is strict, and it's only gotten stricter, as a way to stave off unsuitably dressed attendees. Inside the Royal Enclosure, which Rachel and I would have access to, women's dresses must be knee-length, straps must be at least an inch wide (nothing strapless, no halters, no bare midriffs) and hats are required for both women (FOUR-inch base minimum) and men (top hats like Mr. Peanut). In case that wasn't clear enough, Ascot put out this mesmerizing video for guidance.

In contrast, the Kentucky Derby merely states that tennis shoes, jeans, shorts or athletic apparel are not allowed. Hats for ladies are recommended, and men can wear khakis.



Next to Ascot, the Derby looks like a picnic at a high school softball game.

I've never witnessed this world before, and for good reason: It's really hard to get inside of it. My English husband is aghast that I am allowed here because even he can't gain entrance into the Royal Enclosure area; all English guests must be sponsored by an existing member who has attended the annual event at least four times. Even babies and young children aren't allowed here (minors aged 10-16 are admitted on Friday and Saturday only).

Even though I moved to London last year, I hadn't brushed against the posh English sphere in the slightest. I often ride the red double-decker buses on bridges across the Thames while gazing upon Big Ben, but even Big Ben can't shut out the fact that the man sitting next to me is blowing his nose directly into his hand. Watching Downton Abbey is far closer to experiencing high society England than living in London. When Rachel asked me to accompany her to Royal Ascot, I decided that I wanted to experience that world up close, just this once. What was it really like?

The week before, we went shopping for our requisite hats. We were hopeful; the hats were so flowery, so whimsical and so perfectly unflattering. Every hat in the store seemed to transform us into either the Mad Hatter or the Dowager Countess Grantham.

The only beautiful, flattering ones were incomprehensibly expensive. With our money pooled together, Rachel and I could afford one relatively nice hat between us.

We debated whether getting into Royal Ascot was akin to getting by a bouncer at a bar when we were under 21 with only one fake ID between us. Could Rachel wear the hat and, once safely inside, send someone else to pass it back to me?

No, says a woman in the department store, firmly. Hats must remain on at all times. "I know women who have been turned away at the Royal Enclosure," she informs us. Who would actually turn women away? The fashion police, obviously. Officially known as Dress Code Assistants wear shiny silver dresses and rule with an iron fist -- if your hat isn't suitable, they will give you another or offer to sell you one. If your dress has spaghetti straps, they will forcibly drape pashminas over your shoulders.

I settled for the cheapest hat I could find (it looked like a frilly white Stetson with gauze and a bow) and Rachel caved and purchased a fancier, angled navy hat that dipped towards her shoulder.

A few days later, we took an hour-long train to Ascot, a town 25 miles west of London. We walked in a crowded procession -- a sauntering sea of colorful hats -- until we reached the entrance to the grounds. The fashion police were guarding the entrance. One policewoman tapped a lady on the shoulder who was holding her hat in her hand. "Madam," she said, and pointed to her head. "Your hat." Another measured the base of woman's fascinator (one of those headbandy-feathery things that make women look like birds) to ensure that it was at least four inches in diameter (a size that would render it, I kid you not, a "hatinator"). Men and women who arrive unprepared were offered outfit fixes for purchase.

The assistants were half fashion police, half that mean saleslady in Pretty Woman. I wore my Royal Enclosure badge and slipped on my hat. I felt a little like Indiana Jones, infiltrating a secret society. We both passed muster and made our way into the manicured grounds that surround the stadium and then to the tearooms, where Rachel informed two men that we have a reservation for 1 p.m. They looked back at her, puzzled. Men in morning dress, it turns out, look an awful lot like waiters.

We wander around until 2 p.m., when everyone gathers around the racecourse fence and waits for Queen Elizabeth II and company to go around the track in horse-drawn carriages. The band was playing an instrumental version of Adele's "Skyfall." Earlier, the posh crowd had been buzzing away in their own conversations, but when the Queen finally rounds the corner near the finish line, the men remove their top hats and a hush falls over the grounds.

In her horse-drawn carriage, the Queen, Prince Charles and Camilla glide by.



The horsemen are in their traditional red uniforms, the horses are white and the Queen, in a light pink suit and hat, look so regal, but her expression seems blasé. This is, after all, her 60th year on the throne, and each day at Royal Ascot opens this way, so she's easily done this routine some 300 times. Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie follow in their own carriage, and pass by so close we can see them scowl.

It feels like a still from a movie that would be played on A&E: the band members wear those furry black hats (bearskins), they begin to play "God Saves the Queen" and horse-drawn carriages trot past while men in top hats and women in fascinators hold their breath. They pass, and it's over. The man next to me puts his top hat back on and begins to talk about his summerhouse. At Ascot, everyone is on perfect behavior. No one breaks character.

To better fit in, we must drink the Kool-Aid. And here, the Kool-Aid is Pimm's Cups.



On the lawn, a few Pimm's Cups in, every conversation I hear is scripted like a parody. "Oh look at you, you're matching! Even your toes and fingers match!" a man tells a woman dressed in fuchsia from top to bottom.

"Oh, yes!" she says. "I had my nail varnish out last night, but you know how when you paint your nails you can't do anything! I just had to lay on the bed like this!" She slinks into the posture of a horizontal zombie while still managing to stay on her feet.

"Did you really? Well, that's very sexy!" the man says to the woman and her husband. "Did he jump on you? 'Mind the fingers!'"

"Oh, it's the day-glo orange woman again."

"Such an unfortunate color."

"Remember two years ago when it was so terribly hot and we all wore bowlers hats?"

"And Guildford station was full of men in bowler hats! I had to get the later train."

A woman jumps in: "I used to ride horses wearing a bowler hat."

"You didn't!"

"I did!"

And then:

"I made such a lovely duck dinner last night."

"Oh, we men are so good, so versatile, aren't we? What did you serve with the duck?"

"Oh, broccoli, pasta, garlic bread. We bought the duck and wrung the neck."

"Oh, terrible! Did you feel terrible?"

"They only live eight weeks!"

"Do they?"

"Well, it's easier to pluck their feathers when they're young."

"Is it, really? Well, I imagine it does damage the skin if you wait until they get older."

"And it's such a good meal because you can have either red or white wine with duck."

We lose about £20 (or $31) on the first race, so Rachel and I give up and leave the lawn to wander into the Royal Enclosure garden. We pass Rosé Bar, where everything -- the champagne, the wine, the cupcakes and the macaroons -- is pink. We also pass a restaurant serving lobster, crab and caviar.

In 2012, 4,500 pounds of fresh lobster, 35,000 asparagus spears and 30,000 chocolate éclairs were consumed during the week.

Within the Royal Enclosure, there are more layers of exclusivity. In the garden, gentlemen's clubs, private members' clubs and The Jockey Club are members'-only areas. We are not allowed inside, but can gaze upon the people eating at tables with white tablecloths. Nevertheless, I do manage to sneak in long enough to get a snapshot of the wall of patrons' top hats in the Royal Ascot Racing Club.

Even though I keep waiting for someone to call us out for being impostors, everyone we encounter or accidentally bump hats with is very polite, which is at once a relief and a disappointment. In London, I'd never come across such a concentration of these Horray-Henry types and the constant refrain of, "Oh my dear old chap, that was delightful," begins to rub off on us in a bad way. Whenever either of us accidentally lets ourselves slip into an English lilt or use English jargon, the other one quickly threatens to slap her in the face.

We must make sure we don't become actual impostors.

During the half-hour intervals between races, we mingle and leave the Royal Enclosure to wander around the Grandstand Admission section. This area is more egalitarian and less expensive to attend and has a marginally more lax dress code. It still feels fancy, but is slightly more crowded and has more casual dining options (fish and chips and sandwiches are available). I spot one drunk woman who has removed her shoes and keeps asking her friends where they are going to go out to later. Her accent doesn't match the posh ones around us, but I'm too much of an outsider myself to place it. Here, we can afford the food. All the better, because even though by the end of the day I'll have won on a horse named Dawn Approach, I still have a net loss of £20 (or $30). We down two more drinks, wait out the final race, and then head to the train.



•••

The blonde woman crosses her legs. "Five years ago, Royal Ascot was the crème de la crème. Then, it became appalling with girls wearing fascinators instead of hats in the Royal Enclosure. Strapless dresses. Finally they tightened the rules. Even so, this year, I saw someone in six-inch sparkly stilettos," she says, shaking her head.

"This is a daytime horse race, not a nightclub."

Rachel and I nod in agreement, as if the sparkly stilettos also offended us and violated our own personal code of fashion protocol at this, the first horserace either of us has ever attended.

Her phone rings. What followed was a conversation that resembles the over-the-top pretend conversations my husband and I have when we put on fake posh accents.

"Darling," she says into her phone. "Mary is going to give my shoes to the Captain, and he's going to drop them off at my London flat. And I told the Major that he could take a bottle of champagne as a thank you, so you take one bottle and give the other to him." She laughs. "Thank you again, Darling," she says and hangs up.

She turns to me. "What's the fastest way to get from the train station to St. Paul's?" she asks.

"There's a bus that takes you directly there," I tell her and she says, "Oh no, I don't do buses. Taxi or the tube."

"A taxi might be expensive," Rachel says and the woman replies and shakes her head, "Oh, I don't care about the money."

Rachel and I finally cast aside our hats and begin to relax as the train approaches London. Playing posh English was fun for a day, but we were happy to return to a reality where we could bear our shoulders and speak improperly and not pay through the nose for a cup of tea. The woman from the train, like the other attendees inside the Royal Enclosure, seem to be trying to hang onto a society that only exists in these brief moments that they have to construct themselves. The world has slowly moved away from such elitism in daily life, even though it still has a long way to go.

Still, the next day when I'm on the bus and the girl in front of me begins flossing her teeth, I find it almost reassuring to know Royal Ascot week will always be one moment of Old England frozen in time, where everyone is impeccably groomed and gracious as they wave to the Royals and sip their cocktails. They have one perfect week to live out their posh, privileged glory -- and we have plenty of occasions for the nightclub.

GRADUATES IN WONDERLAND, an epistolary memoir about living in New York, Beijing, Paris and Melbourne is out now.



This post was previously published last year in The Hairpin.

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Las Vegas Marriage Proposal Will Make You Believe In Magic

June 18, 2014, 12:58 pm

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What happens when you ask a Las Vegas magician to help you pop the question? Magic, of course.

A German man named James wrote to magician Rob Anderson to ask for help proposing to his girlfriend Nicole, and Anderson agreed.

So, while Nicole was on vacation in Las Vegas, her friends took her out shopping and "randomly" stopped by a street performance. Little did she know, James had flown in from Germany, the street show was Anderson's and the trick would change her life

Watch the video above, which Anderson posted to YouTube Monday, to see the magic go down.

Keep in touch! Check out HuffPost Weddings on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. Sign up for our newsletter here.

Family On Make-A-Wish Tour Survive Scary Helicopter Landing

June 18, 2014, 1:06 pm

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HONOLULU (AP) — An Illinois family of six making a Make-A-Wish trip to Maui is safe after a hard helicopter landing.

KHON-TV (http://bit.ly/1oGiMvo) reports the family from Bellevue was on a Sunshine Helicopters flight just before 10 a.m. Tuesday. The pilot lifted off from Kahului (kah-hoo-LOO'-ee) Airport for a tour of Waihee (WAY'-hee) Valley. Company owner Ross Scott says the helicopter experienced mechanical failure at 2,500 feet.

He says the pilot looked for a safe place to land and auto rotated, which means disengaging the engine from the main rotor system so the helicopter's rotor blades move just by the upward flow of air during descent.

The helicopter landed hard in 8 feet of elephant grass. Scott says that cushioned the landing.

Maui firefighters say no one on board required medical attention.

___

Information from: KHON-TV, http://khon.com

Looking Good for the AARP

June 18, 2014, 1:25 pm

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Occasionally a publication wants to run an article about my work and they need a photo of me. While I always offer them fine shots from our press department, many have their own specs. I'll be featured with some travel tips in July's "AARP Bulletin," and they hired a Danish camera crew to fly to Italy to take a few shots.


Having shot our new TV episode on the Cinque Terre just a month ago, I know exactly where the good spots are. But this spot is a morning shot and to shoot it in the afternoon, I get baked with their reflector.


AARP wanted a "white screen shot" showing me at a table with coffee, coins, and flowers. It seemed funny to be in what I consider the most beautiful corner of the Mediterranean with a crew who flew from Denmark for the gig and to mask where we were with a big white background.

Cinque Terre Lemon Festival--Anything But Sour

June 18, 2014, 1:33 pm

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The Cinque Terre towns love their festivals, and we hit Monterosso during its lemon festival. The town was decked out in lemons and rather than sour, the mood was happy as can be.


Monterosso's little main piazza was a multi-generational dance floor and, for me, this was a particularly happy moment as I thought about how the town has now fully recovered from the horrible flood of 2011.


Our group is really fond of our bus driver, Joe (center), who quietly and professionally gets us everywhere smoothly and safely. It was fun tonight (as he was completely off tomorrow) because everyone let their hair down together. Our groups always consider our driver as a friend and part of our traveling family.


A group of Norwegian girls (and one guy) had some fun with our Belgian driver.


For me, doing this tour was full of rich memories of the formative years of our tour company. Both tour guide Reid and bus driver Joe (seen with me above) have been around since the early '90s--and as we followed our route, we enjoyed sharing lots of memories. Many of our drivers, such as Joe, essentially learned their English (which is quite good now) from years of talking with our tour groups.

Into the Swiss Alps

June 18, 2014, 1:47 pm

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For over 30 years I've been taking groups into the gondolas high in the Alps. Whether filled with skiers in the winter or hikers in the summer, there's a happy energy in that glass-and-steel bubble of mountain joy--especially when the Swiss Alps are out in all their glory. (Since the gondola is packed, I'm speaking softly. Turn on the YouTube captions if you can't hear me.)

The Schilthornbahn takes us effortlessly (in four stages) to the 10,000-foot summit of the Schilthorn in the Berner Oberland. For about $50 per person (there's a double discount for the group rate and for an early morning departure) we ride up and down. Sure that's a lot of money. But when you're surrounded by cut-glass peaks and breathing fresh mountain air, it's one of Europe's great deals. From a value point of view, remember that--all over the Alps--early lifts are discounted and, because of weather patterns, the early birds enjoy the crispest views. The lesson: Pay less and see more by ascending early.


On our tours, we do whatever we can to save time. For example, room numbers are assigned on the bus as we approach our hotel. Today, we gave the mic to 12-year-old Annaleise who made sure each tour member knew exactly where they were sleeping.


On a Best of Europe in 21 Days tour, we get two days in the Swiss Alps--and the weather is critical. I remember in the early, youth-hostel days of our tour company, we'd wait until morning before deciding if we'd ride the expensive lift to the top of the Schilthorn in the Berner Oberland. It depended on the weather. I'd wake up at the crack of dawn. If it was cloudy, I'd go back to bed--and we'd all sleep in. If the weather was good, I'd wake everyone up, and we were off for the summit. Any guide knows it often clouds up by late morning. Today, we caught the early gondola, were blessed with glorious weather, and enjoyed this view from 10,000 feet.


Tour groups love group shots. I find the regimented "short people in front," soccer-team-type photos boring. And, invariably, the stranger you pick to take the photograph frames it crazily, and the shot is too much feet and sky. Lately, my antidote to that is a group selfie. For some reason, as we all try to crowd into the shot (and I hold the camera high to make our chins seem nice and tight), everyone looks as happy as we are.