Travel & Life Rhythms

Stories, photos, and reflections from the places and experiences that shaped our days.

New Orleans March 2026

New Orleans March 12-17, 2026

National WWII Museum/The Higgins Hotel/Warehouse District

A weekend built around history, food, and a little unexpected time.

Charleston, Savannah, St Augustine January 2026

Ten Days in Charleston, Savannah and St Augustine January 3–13, 2026

We’ve always looked at winter in the upper Midwest as a season to hibernate, a time to do the things pushed aside the rest of the year. Build several puzzles in a week. Binge-watch Band of Brothers over the Christmas holiday (yes, every year). Spend hours in the train room. Work on art journals.

But we’ve learned that one of the best times to travel is right after the holiday season.

By early January, most people have finished the family rounds or fought airport crowds to reach warm beaches or snowy mountains. Life returns to its regular rhythm. Hotels and VRBOs are easier to book, restaurants are eager to fill tables, and points of interest feel calm again. Tours are simpler to schedule. Everything breathes a little.

Having visited both Charleston and Savannah on separate occasions, we decided this time to experience them in the same trip and add St. Augustine for comparison. Early January had served us well during our pre-retirement years, and once again, it didn’t disappoint.

Our flight from Madison to Atlanta was easy, with the added bonus of visiting a couple of our Sweet Littles. From there we picked up a rental car and headed to Charleston, arriving Saturday, January 3, 2026. We settled into our charming VRBO, grabbed dinner, and called it an early night.

Sunday found us in Old Town Charleston in search of brunch. Success came in the form of Rudy Royale, followed by a leisurely afternoon wandering art galleries, strolling the Battery, and walking the genteel streets of a city we’ve come to love. That evening, we dined at Wild Common, one of Charleston’s Michelin starred restaurants. Sitting at the bar allowed us to watch the chefs at work, visit with the bartender and yes, the food absolutely earned the star. Content, we returned to our VRBO.

Monday began with coffee and another venture into Old Town for tours, including an excellent carriage ride with Palmetto Carriage Tours, lunch at Henry’s, and the Rembrandt exhibit at the Gibbes Museum of Art. A rooftop cocktail rounded out the day before heading back to the VRBO once again.

Tuesday was transfer day to Savannah. I woke up sick, so Michael drove while I slept. We checked into the JW Marriott Savannah Plant Riverside District, a stunning property that’s worth visiting even if you don’t stay there. The building itself houses an impressive collection of artifacts and curiosities, including a replica of the largest dinosaur discovered to date.

Unfortunately, I was completely down and out and spent the next two days in bed. We upgraded to a room overlooking the Savannah River, which at least offered a front row view of massive ships moving through the third largest port in the United States.

Wednesday, I dragged myself out of bed (poor me) to join Michael on a walking food tour I’d booked with Savannah Taste Experience, and it turned out to be one of the best experiences of the entire trip. Our host and guide, Shannon, was delightful and knowledgeable.

Friday brought another travel day, heading toward St. Augustine via Tybee Island and the National Museum of the Mighty Eighth Air Force. Our next VRBO sat directly on the ocean. Still not fully recovered, I felt an almost immediate sense of healing from the salt air and rhythmic waves.

Our friends Jim and Rachelle joined us on Saturday for the weekend, and it was truly a blessing catching up.

They served as generous tour guides. Sunday included another food tour with First Coast Cart Tours, this one beautifully layered with history and culturally appropriate dishes. A relaxed afternoon and another wonderful evening with friends followed.

Monday was the drive back to Atlanta, a flight home, and arrival that afternoon.

The goal of this trip wasn’t simply sightseeing. It was practice.

We wanted to learn how to pack for longer trips, manage expectations, and enjoy each day as it came. What happens when you forget something you truly need? How do you handle three unexpected days confined to bed despite prepaid plans? What about cold, rainy weather you didn’t anticipate or pack for? And the big one, how do you keep from overpacking?

We aren’t new to travel, but given the pace we’ve set for ourselves in the next few years, efficiency and intention matter more than ever.

Grade for this trip?
A solid B- with plans to do better next time.

Bonaire November 2025

Bonaire November 1–22, 2025

The first thing one should do when one retires is run away to a Caribbean island for three weeks with the love of your life and two of your closest friends. We left the gray of Illinois on November 1st for Bonaire to scuba dive, snorkel, float in the sea, read, eat at great restaurants, play countless games, enjoy a few cocktails, and talk and laugh for hours. No schedule. No alarm clock. Totally unscripted.

Michael started diving in 2016 and quickly found it to be his favorite activity. He refers to it as his own form of spa and tranquility. On this trip, 109 lifetime dives later, he became a certified Master Diver and completed his self-reliant certification.

I don’t dive, but I never tire of warm sunshine and the endlessly blue Caribbean Sea, so I am a willing and enthusiastic supporter of his underwater pursuits. We favor Bonaire, renowned for its shore diving, and it has easily become our island of choice for both diving and relaxing. The island offers roughly 80 dive sites, each marked by a yellow painted rock and the site’s name. Names like The Lake, Hilma Hooker, Bachelor’s Beach, and One Thousand Steps become part of daily conversation. Bonaire is also a favorite among wind and kite surfers.

Bonaire is one of the three islands that make up the Dutch Antilles, often referred to as the ABC Islands, along with Aruba and Curaçao. Located about 80 miles north of Venezuela, all three sit safely outside the hurricane zone.

There are no American hotel chains or restaurants on the island (Kentucky Fried Chicken being the lone exception). Accommodations tend to be VRBOs, Airbnbs, or dive resorts. There’s little nightlife to speak of, because most visitors are there for the water and prefer a good night’s sleep to a late night out.

Thanks to its ties to the Netherlands, highly rated chefs and hospitality professionals often migrate here to escape the dark, damp European winters. The result is a dining scene that more than satisfies the foodie in us.

I do some snorkeling, but mostly spend my days reading, journaling, working on art, and dabbling in photography while Michael explores below the surface of the sea. It’s a combination that works well for us.

Sharing the experience with our good friends Kerry and Dude made it even better. They completed their open water certifications shortly before the trip and proved to be excellent dive buddies for Michael.

Our days followed a gentle, predictable rhythm. Coffee. Breakfast, always with options. A loose plan for the day. Slow mornings, maybe a dive off the pier at our villa, reading by the private pool, catching up on emails and calls home. A simple lunch, then off for the day’s main dives. Non diving days meant floating in the sea, reading on shore, or road tripping the island.

Late afternoons usually found us at a favorite local bar for a cocktail and a snack of fries, shrimp, or a burger. We formed a sweet habit of watching the sunset together and each naming our “blessing of the day.” Dinner followed, either out at a restaurant or prepared by Kerry and Dude at home. Cards often ended the evening. Simple routines, deeply enjoyed, and now fondly remembered months later.

Bonaire didn’t win us over with spectacle or noise. It stole our hearts with rhythm, restraint, and room to breathe. It reminds us that retirement doesn’t need to be busy to be full, and that joy often shows up quietly in shared meals, familiar routines, and unhurried days shaped by light and water. For three unscripted weeks, we lived exactly where we were, and that may be the greatest luxury of all.

Places we recommend: VIP Diving (great guides, excellent service, the only dive shop Michael uses) Chefs (reserve early, hard to get into, but worth it) La Cantina/The Brewery (best cocktails, charming atmosphere, terrific staff and service) At Home (private in home dining by Manouk and Egbert. My favorite experience) Melisa Sailing (small sailing vessel, an evening of great food while watching the sun set and the stars come out) Restaurant Flora (fine dining by the sea at a boutique restaurant. Michael’s favorite) Foodies (on the east side of the island on Lac Bay. Quiet, laid back, always our last stop before departing Bonaire.)

Grade for this trip?
A solid A, only missing an A+ due to a few issues with the VRBO.

The Sweeter Things

A few photos of the people we love, and the moments we shared with them.

Traveling Home to Minnesota

February Birthdays February 6-10, 2026

Italy April 2026

Part One: Rome

The morning of our departure began with our usual coffee together, one more ordinary moment before stepping into something neither of us had ever done. Italy was ahead of us, and that had its own pull.

We left for the airport around 9:00 a.m. Traveling on a Tuesday, just after spring break had ended, felt like discovering a secret. The airport was calm, the lounge nearly empty, and everything moved with surprising ease. We looked at each other and decided then and there that retirement travel has its advantages.

After twenty years of traveling together, we approached this trip a little differently. Michael has traveled widely, but neither of us had ever been to Italy. Other than a few recently learned phrases, neither of us knew Italian. We did not fully understand the scale of Rome or whether our plans were realistic. But after twenty years together, we knew one thing with certainty: there is no one else we would rather see the world with.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, I was reminded that overnight travel changes everyone. Passengers looked rumpled and weary by morning, but so did the flight attendants. Not miserable, just tired in that practiced, professional way. It struck me that caring for a plane full of excited, anxious, restless strangers must be its own kind of endurance.

Our hotel had arranged a driver to meet us at the airport. At first, the road felt unexpectedly rural, and I wondered how far from the city we were. Then, gradually, Rome announced itself. Ancient buildings appeared as rows on the narrow cobblestone roads. Crowds were moving in every direction. The area near Vatican City was packed, even in what many would call the off season. Countless people had come before us to see these same places, and now we had joined them.

We had allowed ourselves three and a half days in the city. There is no such thing as “doing Rome” in three days, but we made a respectable first attempt. What struck me most was how many landmarks revealed themselves suddenly, almost theatrically. You turn a corner and there is the Trevi Fountain. You step out of the Metro, and the Colosseum rises across the street. Inside the Pantheon, the hush felt appropriate and deserved. Spanish Steps, no matter the hour, served as a gathering place for both residents and visitors, all talking quietly or simply sitting in the warmth of a spring evening.

For all the crowds, there was also a surprising sense of order and courtesy. People moved, adjusted, made room, and waited their turn. It was busy, but not chaotic.

We both noticed that people simply moved more slowly. We wondered whether it was the crowds or the cobblestones. One must relearn how to place each step, or risk ending up in a heap and blocking traffic. We escaped that fate, but the occasional bandaged knee on an uncovered leg suggested others had stepped and missed.

The blend of languages around us made me wonder if this was what Babel might have sounded like. Voices from all over the world layered over one another, somehow blending in harmony. One evening we stopped in Piazza di Spagna and simply listened to the melody of it all. Beautiful.

I was also fascinated by the contrast of the city itself: ancient stone and worn walls beside elegant modern clothing, beautiful shoes, polished jewelry, and effortless style. Rome does not seem interested in choosing between old and new. It keeps both.

On our last evening, we ate dinner outside at a small café just in front of our hotel. Eight o’clock feels late to Midwesterners, but there we were, settling in. Lights glowed from shop windows and restaurants. People strolled past, absorbed in their own conversations. A street seller made one final attempt at the day’s business. No one seemed rushed.

Our observation about meals in Rome, or perhaps all of Italy, was that they are not something to finish. They are a time to slow down intentionally and focus on the people at the table. The servers seemed to understand that instinctively. They appeared when needed and kept a respectful distance when they were not.

Jet lag remained my personal nemesis, and Michael was endlessly patient. At times I felt physically off-balance and mildly confused, unsure where we were headed next. At one point, intending to turn on the bathroom light, I flushed the toilet instead. We laughed hard at that.

At this stage of life, though, we have learned that when we need to stop, we stop. In doing so, we found small eateries, welcoming piazzas, very good food, good wine, and kind service. And the great thing about Rome? It is not in a hurry. It waited for us as we rested and recovered.

More time would have been welcome, and I suspect we will return. Three and a half days was a good beginning. Rome did what great cities do. It left us grateful, a little overwhelmed, and wanting more. We left to continue north with a different sense of time and place. It was a fine beginning to the journey.

Part Two: Cortona

On Saturday morning, we left for Cortona from the vast and bustling Roma Termini Railway Station. Although we arrived with time to spare, we somehow managed to be standing on the wrong platform when boarding began. So before our journey north officially started, it began with the two of us running across the station, probably ten miles, or perhaps half a mile, depending on how dramatic one chooses to be. The train was delayed, which proved fortunate for the Benners, who boarded breathless but successful.

Train travel in Italy can be unpredictable. That Saturday there was a transportation strike, something not uncommon in Italy and usually limited in timing. It slowed the system considerably. Our trip was otherwise uneventful, though we arrived nearly two and a half hours later than planned. Thankfully, our driver was also collecting another group of four travelers who had arrived on time. We would cross paths with this cheerful group from Montana several more times during our stay.

Cortona sits high on a hillside overlooking the Val di Chiana. Enclosed by ancient Etruscan walls and shaped by centuries of Roman, medieval, and Tuscan influence, it is one of those places that seems to rise naturally from the landscape. Olive groves, vineyards, stone buildings, and sweeping views surround it. The town feels both elevated and deeply rooted, as if it has been quietly watching the centuries pass.

We did not exactly find Cortona. Rather, it found us through a package we purchased at auction during an event at Hidden Creek Estates. ***More on that later.

The steep streets inside the city walls can be challenging. Some require climbing steps, and plenty of them. Others are so sharply angled you find yourself leaning forward just to continue. Nearly all are cobblestone, so while climbing hills, you must also pay close attention to where you place your feet.

The two main gathering places, Piazza della Repubblica and Piazza Signorelli, serve as the social heart of the town. Throughout the day, visitors, schoolchildren, locals, and tour groups cross through the squares in a steady rhythm. Cafés and bars line the piazzas, busy from morning espresso through evening aperitivo.

In Italy, a bar is not simply a place for cocktails. It is also where you stop for coffee, sparkling water, a pastry, or conversation. Families gather there. So do older men who look as though they have been meeting at the same table for fifty years. Babies in strollers roll by while neighbors greet one another. Life unfolds publicly and naturally.

While the bars provided lively entertainment, they also provided lively sound, often until three in the morning. Unfortunately, our first apartment sat directly above two of the busiest establishments in town. As if that were not enough, we also had residents above us in the form of pigeons.

A flock of pigeons had taken up residence in the attic space above our bedroom, accounting for the dust, the smell, and the suspicious noises overhead. Around 6:30 each morning, just as the street below had finally quieted, the pigeons would begin their own day. Scratching, flapping, clawing, cooing, and what sounded like aggressive furniture rearranging would continue for the next forty-five minutes.

Because of the noise, a cleanliness concern, and the fact that the bedroom required climbing thirty interior steps, we were graciously moved to a quieter, newer, and far more comfortable apartment a few blocks away. It was close enough to the center for convenience and far enough away for sleep, a beautiful compromise.

Now, back to the restaurants.

There are so many eateries in Cortona that it would take quite some time to experience them all. Nearly every one offered excellent wines from Tuscany, Umbria, and the Chiana Valley, along with beautifully prepared pastas, seafood, veal, and regional specialties. But the charm was not only on the plate. Each interior had its own character. Brightly glazed ceramics. Etched glassware. Stone walls that have stood for centuries. Family photographs. Local artwork. Dining there satisfied the eye as much as the appetite.

Tables spilled into the streets from cafés and ristoranti. Indoor seating existed, but most people preferred to eat outside. Many afternoons we did the same, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing at all as we watched people pass by.

The shops were equally inviting. Leather goods, clothing, shoes that nearly demanded to be purchased, jewelry, and art galleries tucked into old stone buildings. For me, the art shops were pure refreshment.

At Il Pozzo Galleria d’Arte, we spent several hours with the owner, listening to stories of restoring the building that now houses works from various artists. We shared prosecco, because in that setting, one simply does, and while Michael and Ivan discussed the engineering of ancient buildings, I wandered among paintings, papyrus works, leather journals, handbags, and handcrafted jewelry. I was especially drawn to a silver and gold piece, and my generous husband kindly agreed that it should come home with us. The building also contains an old cistern, now home to koi. Softly lit and beautifully restored, it was remarkably calming to sit beside and watch.

I could not tell you how many churches and chapels are tucked into this hill town, only that they are plentiful. Each seemed lovingly maintained. Frescoes, painted ceilings, carved wood, marble altars, brass details, and centuries of devotion remain visible in every one. The highest and most prominent is Basilica of Saint Margaret of Cortona, perched above the town. We climbed there on foot, requiring several rest stops along the way, but it was worth every step. Inside, the stillness and reverence of the space offered deep rest.

As we descended back toward the city center, church bells from across the town began ringing together. Even now, remembering the view, the sound, and the grace of that moment brings tears to my eyes.

Two of our days were rainy, but Cortona had plenty to offer indoors. We visited the MAEC Museum, which was hosting a World War I exhibit alongside several floors of Etruscan history. The displays were fascinating and beautifully preserved. We also visited Circle of Life Art Gallery, founded by sculptor Andrea Roggi. His contemporary bronze castings centered on the connection between earth, humanity, and life, were remarkable.

And when the rain lingered, there were always wine shops offering tastings led by knowledgeable and entertaining sommeliers. We brought a deck of cards with us, so on afternoons too cold, wet, or windy for wandering, we played Kings in the Corner over another glass of exceptional wine.

Our time came to a close on Saturday, April 18, and we left with hearts of gratitude for this stay in the City on the Hill. We headed north from there, again via train, albeit a much calmer exit then our entrance to Cortona.

How Cortona Found Us

Our seven days in Cortona came through a package we purchased at auction during the Joey Fecci Foundation 2025 Food & Wine Festival, hosted by Hidden Creek Estates. Joey was a young aspiring chef in Nashville who tragically passed away on April 27, 2024, at the age of 26. He was a dear friend of the Frank family, owners of Hidden Creek Estates.

The festival was created to honor Joey’s memory and his love for the culinary arts. It is a day filled with exceptional food, wine, music, and live entertainment. Celebrity chefs generously donate their time and talent, each hosting their own tasting station for guests to enjoy. Proceeds from the event are given in Joey’s honor to support the next generation of chefs.

Part of Part Two: Siena and Florence April 2026

Michael wanted to see the Piazza del Campo in Siena, where the famous horse races are held twice each year. I wanted to stop in Florence to see David. So we compromised, and we did both. A day trip to Siena, followed by an overnight stop in Florence on our way from Cortona to Monforte d’Alba. That is how marriage works when you make it.

Siena

We arranged for a private driver from Cortona and arrived in Siena for breakfast, ready to explore. We wandered the winding streets until we found our way to Piazza del Campo, where we met our walking tour guide, Anna. She was wonderful, a petite, middle-aged woman, with long dark curly hair, olive skin, and the kind of warmth and confidence that made history come alive.

Anna first showed us two newly opened bars, one of them located inside the historic Accademia Musicale Chigiana, a renowned music institute founded in 1932 by Count Guido Chigi-Saracini as an international center for advanced musical study. Through her connections, she was able to take us beyond the restaurant space and into the preserved private rooms of the Count’s residence, which is not generally open as a museum. It was extraordinary.

From there we continued to the magnificent Siena Cathedral, dedicated to the Assumption of Saint Mary. Anna explained the layers of architectural history, the sculptures, the intricate marble floor inlays, and the significance of Siena’s twelve contrade, or districts, each represented by its own flag.

We passed the great medieval hospital, Santa Maria della Scala, where Saint Catherine of Siena once cared for the sick before her death at only thirty-three years old. As we continued through the streets, Anna pointed out cafés and hidden corners before bringing us to Basilica of San Domenico, where the stained glass was breathtaking.

It was a day rich in art, faith, and history.

Florence

Saturday morning found us boarding another train, this time to Florence. It was a far calmer departure than our earlier station sprint in Rome. No confusion, no strikes, no drama. Just a smooth ride north.

We arrived at the station with no transportation plan in place. The app would not work. Texting failed. Then, as if on cue, a taxi appeared out of nowhere. Off we went.

We checked into The Social Hub Florence Lavagnini. Very modern, very youthful, very hipster, and we were a little outside the target demographic. Still, it was a fun and interesting stay.

We headed to the rooftop for a quick refreshment. There, stretched across the skyline, stood the glorious Florence Cathedral. While we admired the view, the Italian Air Force flew overhead in formation, trailing the green, white, and red of the Italian flag across the sky. Another breathtaking moment.

Next we walked to the Leonardo da Vinci Interactive Museum, which features more than fifty full-scale models of Leonardo’s inventions along with reproductions of his paintings. For anyone visiting Florence, I would call it well worth the stop.

Lunch followed, where we enjoyed what may have been the best lasagna and Chianti of the trip, or perhaps I was simply starving.

Then came the Galleria dell’Accademia. We waited only about thirty minutes, very manageable on a pleasant spring afternoon. In the height of summer, I would absolutely recommend advance tickets.

Walking into the great hall where David stands was unforgettable. Lit from above beneath the dome, he seemed almost to glow. I had not expected the many additional Renaissance works housed there, which made the visit even richer.

Afterward we walked around the exterior of the Duomo and Baptistery. By then, after a long day, it was enough simply to admire them from outside.

That evening, Tim had recommended Locale Firenze for dinner. He was right. The décor, food, and service were all exceptional.

Sunday morning, we rented a car and headed north and west toward the Piedmont region, ready for the next chapter of the trip.

Part Three: Monforte d’Alba: Castles, Vineyards, and Wineries

Leaving Florence, we took a taxi to the airport car rental office, picked up a Peugeot 2008, and set out for Piedmont. Michael drove carefully while learning the rhythms of Italian roads. He had studied the signs the night before, but we quickly discovered that highways and side roads are not always as straightforward as back home. At times, we wondered if getting lost was part of the national character. Still, we made it out of the city, onto the A1 north toward Milan, and eventually turned west.

A few hours later, heading south again, wine country appeared in full glory. Rows of vines covered the rolling hills like a giant green patchwork quilt. We fumbled with directions more than once, but eventually found our way to Franco Conterno Agriturismo Cascina Sciulun.

I had booked this stay, along with our next one in Sestri Levante, during some very early morning hours only a few weeks before the trip. Booking accommodations at dawn may not be best practice, but in this case it worked. We were delighted to discover we would spend four days on a working winery, surrounded by acres of vineyards.

Our hosts, busy with the starting season, always had a kind greeting, time to make a European continental breakfast each morning that started our days feeling cared about, and making sure our room was always in pristine order. Their hospitality will long be remembered.

Our room had a large veranda overlooking the family’s vines, with views stretching to Barolo and La Morra on the western hills. Everywhere we looked were vineyards, wineries, and hill towns that once held castles or fortified walls. Our hosts also had an east-facing patio with comfortable chairs and warm blankets. Each morning we sat there with coffee, Americanos for me, cappuccinos for Michael, until the day slowly introduced itself.

By then, the sightseeing portion of our trip had softened into something better. We no longer felt the need to chase landmarks. Our days became drives through vineyard roads, wandering castle towns, stopping for lunch, coffee, or a glass of wine whenever it seemed right. No one appeared to be in a hurry.

Except the vineyard owners.

This time of year, the grapes were just beginning to form. We could almost see the vines changing each day. Crews were pruning and tying by hand, and by eight each morning the small tractors were already moving down the rows, carefully cultivating the soil. A vineyard is a living thing. It demands attention in every season, because no part of its life can be neglected without consequence later. What appears effortless at harvest is built through months of pruning, watching, repairing, and patient daily care long before the fruit is ever seen.

I said I could smell the earth as it was being worked. Michael said the tractors on metal tracks sounded like distant WWII tanks rolling across a ridge. Naturally, we were both right.

One evening, we met a former colleague of Michael’s from his years at Honeywell for dinner in Monforte d’Alba. They had not seen each other in eleven years, since their days working from the company office in Switzerland. Over sunset, a wonderful meal, and two bottles of local wine, they talked about old coworkers, world travel, and retirement. Two men who had spent decades moving at full speed, now learning a different pace. When dinner ended, a hard rainstorm met us outside and gave Michael another lesson in Italian driving. We found ourselves on dark roads, unfamiliar signs, steep hills, and one accidental detour into the wrong valley before GPS rescued us.

We celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary while staying at Cascina Sciulun. It was a cold, misty morning after the storm, but the weather could not touch the gratitude of the day. We found each other in the middle of life, and somehow twenty years arrived faster than either of us expected.

After breakfast and our usual slow coffee, we drove to Serralunga d’Alba for lunch at Osteria Tre Case, a modern restaurant that still gracefully showed its ancient bones. The meal was one of the best of the trip. Beautifully set tables, warm hospitality, and food worthy of an anniversary toast. It was the perfect place to reflect on all we had shared.

Our next stop was Ettore Germano Winery. We had met Sergio Germano at a wine dinner back home in March and were invited to visit if we found ourselves nearby. That afternoon the family and crew were busy capping bottles of their 2022 Alta Langa Brut, one of our favorites, preparing it for shipment in the months ahead.

We were fortunate to visit on a rare and busy production day, just as the bottles of Brut were being disgorged. The temporary caps were removed, the sediment expelled, and the wine prepared for its final closure with the traditional mushroom cork and wire cage. Watching that last stage of the process was a special glimpse into the craftsmanship behind a bottle that usually reaches the table with all the work hidden from view.

For Michael, with his manufacturing background, and for me, having worked in agricultural finance, it was fascinating to witness the production side of the business. After watching the bottling line, Paola guided us through the winery, explaining their vineyards, winemaking, and family history. She also introduced us to five wines we had never tasted before. Their tasting room was extraordinary with an expansive view of their generational land and vines.

It was one of those experiences travel occasionally gives you: unplanned, personal, and impossible to recreate.

We ended the day with dinner at a lovely country restaurant, then returned to the Cascina to pack for the final leg of our trip. Our bags were readied once again, but we left with more than what we had brought. We carried the quiet beauty of those hills, the kindness of the people, and memories that would stay with us long after we had gone.

Part Four: Sestri Levante on the Ligurian Sea

We ended our stay at the Cascina with breakfast and warm goodbyes, then drove north and west to Genoa Airport to return our rental car. It should have been a simple drop-off, but between unfamiliar traffic patterns and road signs seemingly designed for hummingbirds, it took some effort. Once sorted, our driver, Umberto, met us, and soon we were traveling east along the coast beside the brilliant blue waters of the Ligurian Sea. The moment I saw it, my spirits lifted.

Sestri Levante, our final stop, is perfectly placed between Rapallo, Portofino, the Cinque Terre, and within reach of Pisa. During one of my late-night booking sessions, I found what was described as “a seaside apartment with great views.” Experience has taught me that such wording can sometimes mean one tiny glimpse of water if you lean out a window at the proper angle.

This time, it meant exactly what it promised. It was perfectly named Sogno sul mare meaning “Dream on the Sea”.

The owner, Stefano, met us outside and led us upstairs to the second floor (third, by our counting). The moment we walked in, I wanted to book it again for some future date we had not yet planned. There were sweeping views of the sea from two sides, a wraparound balcony, and the kind of comfort that instantly tells you to exhale.

Stefano shared that we would be his final guests, as he had sold the property. Short-term rental regulations had made profits harder to sustain, and with retirement approaching, selling made sense. He was a gracious host throughout our stay, checking in on us, offering dining suggestions, and even inviting us to remain a few extra days at no charge. We could not accept, but we appreciated the kindness.

Sestri Levante is known as the “City of Two Seas,” built around a rocky peninsula called Isola Peninsula that reaches into the water. On one side lies the smaller, sheltered Bay of Silence. On the other is the broader Bay of Fables, where we stayed.

The dark, rocky beaches were filled each day with families, couples, and sun-seekers stretched across towels and smooth stones. Even in the cooler temperatures, some determined souls were swimming.

Small cafés lined the beach and the wide Promenade along the Bay of Fables. Our days followed a rhythm of coffee and breakfast on our balcony, lunches by the water, coffee and a sweet in the afternoon, an occasional aperitif, and morning and evening walks among the other strollers making their slow circuits along the sea.

Away from the waterfront, we spent time in the Old Town, which deserves to be wandered rather than visited. Pastry shops, cafés selling slices of pizza, gelato counters, and a shop making fresh pasta daily seemed to appear on every street. There were leather goods, artisan jewelry, and clothing elegant enough to suggest it had just arrived from Milan. Between the aromas, the shop windows, and the people watching, we took the long way every time.

We noticed that the people of Sestri Levante were likely residents or Italians traveling to the sea. Not much English was spoken in the crowds. Stefano told us that most tourists want to stay in Portofino with a faster pace. More appears to happen there than in Sestri Levante. Those who travel to or stay in this city are looking for quiet and anonmity. We were good with that.

During our final four days, we spent a lot of our time on our balcony, soaking in the sun, listening to the waves, and resisting any urge to do more than necessary. The nights were cool, but we left the windows open so the sound of the sea could follow us into sleep.

The sunsets were breathtaking. We never missed one, staying outside until the sun disappeared behind the mountains across the bay. We talked about what we were grateful for during the trip. The list was long. That in itself is a blessing.

Part Five: Home

This morning we returned to Rome by train, and tomorrow we fly home. When this journey began, I expected we would return with much to discuss and perhaps a few profound conclusions neatly tied together. The truth is less dramatic and more useful.

Planned or not, each day unfolds on its own terms. Sometimes it goes as expected, but you might miss a turn, get lost, and find something you would never have discovered otherwise.

Being away from home for so long placed us both on unfamiliar footing. I do not only mean cobblestones, though they certainly played their part. There were times I found the moving from place to place a little unsettling. Michael, in his own way, missed the daily structure he had begun building at home.

Packing, unpacking, and packing again should have become easier with practice. It did not. We have concluded that learning not to overpack must happen before any future expedition. This may be the clearest wisdom Italy gave us.

We also learned that kindness matters most when tiredness arrives. Jet lag can make one of us unreasonable. Missed turns can add unexpected hills, extra blocks, and more stairs than anyone ordered. In those moments, grace is more valuable than efficiency.

During our travels, we also found ourselves keeping a running list of movies made in or about Italy. With our slower pace in Sestri Lavente, we rented two and watched them late in the evening after dark. The first was Under the Tuscan Sun, set in Cortona. It was fun to recognize the piazzas, overlooks, and even our first apartment building in scenes we had just walked past ourselves. The second was Roman Holiday, with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. Many of its scenes were places we had already visited in Rome.

I mention that not because watching movies is some grand travel achievement, but because travel enlarges your world. Returning to those places through film gave us another way to understand them, and perhaps to understand a little more about the lives lived there.

But those are small lessons inside a larger one.

The most interesting lesson was we realized that we no longer vacation. Vacations once belonged to working life. Our vacations consisted of carefully rationed days approved by someone else, to be used wisely because they were limited and slow to return. What we do now is travel. Our trips are shaped by the boundaries we choose, like finances, family calendars, grandchildren’s birthdays, and common sense. Within those boundaries, time feels different. We are no longer racing a clock or mourning the final days before returning to obligation. We can enjoy where we are, move when it is time, rest when it is needed, and let the experience unfold.

Three weeks in Italy have given us memories that will remain and reasons to return. But for now, there is also a good life waiting for us at home.

Planes, Trains & Automobiles by Michael

Catherine begins Part 5 by mentioning our train ride back to Rome. That reminded me of the movie title Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

During this trip, we used plenty of all three. We flew on four aircraft: an Airbus A330 twice, a Boeing 737, and finally an Embraer 175. We took four trains: a local passenger train from Rome to Cortona, an intercity train to Florence, another from Sestri Levante back to Rome, and finally the Leonardo Express to Leonardo da Vinci International Fiumicino Airport.

Italy’s rail network is excellent, with an impressive number of tunnels cut through mountains, and service that makes long distance travel practical and comfortable.

Automobiles included a bus ride to O’Hare International Airport, another at the Rome airport to and from a hotel. We rode in a BMW van transfer from the Rome airport into the city, three van trips while staying in Cortona, four taxi rides in Florence, and a Peugeot 2008 Hybrid rental car. It was a sporty little SUV that handled the mountain roads like a rally car.

And in between all of that, we walked.

The range of transportation on this trip was very different from life in the United States, where we usually just get in the car and drive to wherever we are going. After this experience, I could get used to taking the train much more often.

Cozumel June 2026

Another Great Day by the Sea

Cozumel June 6-11 then 12, 2026

In May Michael and I read about the diving in Cozumel and began making plans for a quick five day trip to check it out. Located off Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, Cozumel is best known for its coral reefs, drift diving, and clear Caribbean waters. Just twelve miles from Playa del Carmen, it feels surprisingly removed from the crowds of the Riviera Maya. We invited our friends, Kerry and Dude, to join us again, and in short order, Presidente Intercontinental Cozumel Resort and Spa was selected for our stay.

Despite being one of the oldest luxury resorts on Cozumel, Presidente does not feel dated. The mature palm trees, established gardens, and lower building heights give it a sense of permanence that many newer Caribbean resorts lack. It feels cared for rather than brand new. The total occupancy is 212 rooms, and this week it felt less than 40%. This is always to our liking, and worked perfectly for a short stay to dive and relax.

At check in, we were surprised with room upgrades to an outdoor shower suite with a ground floor deck facing the sea. This was a great area to unwind and talk about the day or read or watch the aqua blue waves roll in and out.

Diving in Cozumel

Michael found Cozumel to be the busiest dive destination he has yet experienced. He and Dude used Scuba Du Diving and Water Sports, the resort’s onsite operator. Most of their dives were by boat, with only one shore dive during the week. Scuba Du handled everything from tanks and weights to boat logistics, allowing them to focus on diving. The divemasters were personable, attentive, and kept the experience running smoothly. During surface intervals, fresh fruit appeared each day, and one morning the crew even anchored at a deserted beach and served pineapple, watermelon, and chocolate cake.

Most dives took place among massive coral formations, some with overhead structures rising 20 to 30 feet from the sea floor. Swimming alongside them felt like moving through underwater caverns. Drift diving was new for both Michael and Dude. The current does the work, carrying divers over the reef at a pace that is part thrill and part blur, with sea life passing by faster than you can take it all in.

Among the highlights were the largest turtle Michael has seen to date, along with spiny lobsters, nurse sharks, manta rays, squid, and starfish. Dude had received new camera equipment at Christmas, and he was able to capture great shots of the underwater world that allowed Kerry and me to experience some of the world they had been exploring below the surface.

Snorkeling is another water option at the resort. There are lots of colorful sea life in the sandy areas in front of the beach. Some of the types of fish that are more prevalent here are parrot fish, blue tang, sergeant major, bandit butterfly and peacock flounder. I don’t dive or snorkel, so being able to walk into the water and see them so clearly was a great experience. I can’t say I liked when they nibbled at my ankles, but they were still entertaining to watch.

Life on the Beach

When Michael and Dude dive, we found June actually is a great time for Kerry and me to be above the sea. Both the property and the staff feel relaxed. The Presidente offers two spacious beaches, and a third smaller one by the large center area pool. There is a second “Tranquility” pool tucked back among some of the outlying buildings. We had no issues with finding a beach palapa, lounge chairs by or even in the pool, and with fewer guests, pool and beachside service is quick. This is critical when receiving an iced cold drink. Melting ice cubes is never preferred! The laid back atmosphere lends well to meeting any possible reading or napping goals one might bring with them to the Island.

Another plus was how easy reservations were to make at the spa without competing with holiday crowds. The Ikal Spa, located on property, is small with only four treatment rooms, but staff seemed to keep guests flowing through without feeling rushed. The black circular infinity pool you walk past at reception is a soothing way to enter the experience. The outdoor area, which we had the use of for 48 hours, had a whirlpool, warm pool and a cold plunge. A Sauna and steam room complete with eucalyptus in the locker area. It is small, but all very nicely situated under a huge palapa.

The Serenity Room, where guests wait for treatments, is minimally decorated with comfortable seating areas, beautiful green plants and that quiet undertone of chill music. Mix in the island scents, and it is an instant feeling of relaxing luxury. I chose an 80 minute hot stones massage with Island Spice aroma treatment. I can’t really remember how it went, since I am sure I slept through most of it, but I assume it was good.

Reservations at any of the two upscale dinner restaurants, Faro Blanco Restaurante or Alfredo Di Roma Trattoria, are easily available. The wine and food offerings are varied enough we easily returned a couple times while staying on the resort and found something new to enjoy. Both are appointed in such a way, I felt transported to another place as a result. Restaurante Le Cap, a smaller Mediterranean option on the water’s edge, was a nice spot for a light lunch or fresh catch dinner, with an atmosphere suited to both lively conversation and quiet evenings watching the boats.

The Restaurante Caribeño, also on the water’s edge, is a large open air palapa with a bar in the middle and three levels of tables in the round. In the morning, the buffet is 40’ long and filled with stations of fresh fruit, plates of cheeses, waffles, pancakes, fried plantains, bacon, sausages, chorizo, scrambled eggs, tacos of any kind, omelettes made to order, chips, guacamole, pico de gallo, habanero sauces and moles.

Because it is an open air structure, and the cat birds feel the buffet is also available to them. The resort has employed a falconer to walk slowly around the inner perimeter of the building in the mornings. With his beaked and hooded companion on his shoulder, their job is to deter the birds from selecting any of the artfully arranged food. An occasional wave of his hand or a whistle, and the smaller birds scatter, often with high shrills of complaint.

We often played cards here before dinner, anticipated the sunsets, and listened to the music of a local artist. A refreshing cocktail with chips and salsa all made for a good way to transition from the day into evening.

A Day in the Life

Our mornings started at Restaurante Caribeño. Michael and Dude ate a light breakfast before heading off on the dive boat. Kerry and I arrived later, and while we drank our coffee or tea and enjoyed our first meal of the day, we made our loosely held plan for the day. The welcoming, accommodating staff never hurried us as we decided whether to first find loungers on the beach or at the pool. These are the decisions of a well designed Caribbean trip.

The evenings in mid June are balmy with a constant breeze off the sea. Because of the tropical depression and subsequent storms, only one evening did we have a true sunset, but it was spectacular. We continued our Bonaire initiated tradition of each of us naming one blessing from the day as we watched the sun leave the sky. Inevitably, one of us will comment with “another great day by the sea”.

At dinner we again used question cards for discussions (back to Bonaire) that were sometimes deep (What is one moment from your childhood that you can still feel?) or sometimes funny (If you were ever arrested, what would family and friends assume it was for?). Both provide conversation immediately and also that we can build on in the future.

We were introduced to Pinochle while in Bonaire, and Kerry and Dude have patiently been teaching us since. The two of us won’t be competing in Las Vegas anytime soon, but it’s a great way to spend a few, or several, hours, especially near the sound of the Caribbean. The trade winds made the game even more challenging by attempting to blow our cards into the sea.

Bonus Day

Thursday was our Bonus Day. Tropical Depression Cristina, and a few of her friends, had joined us for the trip and made a mess of the weather, so we extended. It was still raining and could have been considered a washout by some travelers, but we found it relaxing in its own way. The collective mood of the resort was even slower and quieter than usual, and we all found another level of relaxation. Guests not diving or snorkeling lingered this morning over coffee and made extra trips back to the buffet for another plate of breakfast.

Michael and I came over to the palapa early (or its island equivalent, 7:30 a.m.) for coffee and found a table adjacent to the dive boat dock. Even in the rain, it’s a paradise rush hour. Divers of every age and size are waiting to board one of many incoming vessels. As one filled, it quickly departed while another came in for more waiting underwater adventurers.

Kerry and Dude joined us shortly thereafter, and we watched a Carnival cruise liner arrive, disappearing and reappearing in the rain like a ghost. During a break in the heavy downpour, it made its way through the small dive boats hurrying to get their occupants to the dive sites.

Two Magnificent Frigatebirds perched above the dive boat dock, preening and fluffing their feathers in the quieter morning weather after the night of rain. Magnificent Frigatebirds are large seabirds with long, hooked beaks and deeply forked tails, often seen soaring on thermals with barely a wingbeat. With wingspans reaching more than seven feet, they spend much of their lives soaring above the sea, rarely landing except to nest. Watching them circle effortlessly over the water felt like a fitting image for Cozumel itself, unhurried, graceful, and completely at home near the sea.

The rest of the Bonus Day was spent doing even less of anything we had done all week. It was fabulous. In the evening we strolled to the north side of the property and watched the cruise ships leave for another port of call. Over dinner we played a few more games of Pinochle (I’m quite certain Kerry and I were the overall winners), and enjoyed the quiet of the evening. Cristina still kept the sunset and stars hidden, but the sea serenaded us with her gently rolling waves and the lights reflected brightly on the water.

Friday, Leaving Day, started the same as the previous mornings with breakfast in the palapa, and then, because of late check out, more time by the pool with a book or a last dip in the sea. By the time we had our bags packed, Cristina was finally breaking up and becoming only a weather memory, but she had given us something we hadn’t planned for. An extra day spent the way we’d spent the rest of the trip. Long breakfasts, conversations under a palapa during a rainstorm, sunsets, card games, good friends, and another reminder that some of life’s best days don’t require a schedule packed with activity. Sometimes another great day by the sea is enough.

Until Next Time,

Catherine

Scotland July 2026

Scotland

July 21-August 1, 2026

The Royal Scotsman. A Trip of a Lifetime Part One

The Royal Scotsman, a three day luxury train journey we had looked forward to for a long while, was the reason our twelve day trip to Scotland took shape in the first place. The trip centered on whisky, on the distilleries that make it, and on how closely that history is woven into Scotland’s own. Our route ran from Edinburgh up to Inverness, back down along the North Sea coast, and finally home again to Waverley station where it had all begun.

Our Trip on the Royal Scotsman Begins

The Balmoral itself set the tone before we ever reached the train. Walking in felt like stepping back into an earlier era, the same feeling we would find waiting for us on the Royal Scotsman later that day. The concierge and bellmen wore kilts in a specific tartan, and they matched the Belmond staff for warmth and attentiveness. While we waited for lunch and departure, Belmond had set out postcards and stamps for anyone who wanted to use them, a small touch that mattered more than it should have, since most of us had either just come from somewhere or were headed somewhere else entirely once this trip ended.

Ali, our host for the coming three days, made a point of getting to know each guest individually. I mentioned to him that we had not brought any tartan for the formal dinner, since neither of us has Scottish ancestry. He waved off the concern, then went further than he needed to, looking up a tartan pattern for the state of Illinois and another commemorating America’s two hundred fiftieth anniversary. Neither was necessary. Both told me something about the kind of attention we could expect for the rest of the trip.

Belmond invited us down to Prince’s Restaurant for a quick lunch. I had a Caesar salad crisp enough to taste like it had been picked that morning, and Michael’s beet salad looked almost too well built to eat. Our waiter, noticing the Belmond tags, lit up over our trip ahead and spent a moment telling us what to look forward to. We finished lunch and gathered with the rest of our group, thirty four guests in total, before making our way to the train.

Greetings and Introductions

A single piper in full Highland dress met us on the platform, though the sound filling the terminal made it seem like three or four were playing at once. Michael had dreamt of this trip for years, and we held hands and just listened. He played on as he led our group in a procession across the red carpet toward the boarding area. The staff greeted us by name again as we stepped aboard.

The staff gathered us in the observation car for a toast welcoming everyone aboard and looking ahead to three days of kinship. Ali, our host, taught us to say Slàinte Mhath properly, the traditional Scottish toast to good health, and half the car spent the next minute practicing the pronunciation and laughing at ourselves.

Walking through the cars for the first time, everything struck me as beautiful in a way that felt lived in rather than staged, the chairs and couches, even the pillows, with attendants quietly tidying behind us as we passed. Each dining car had its own look, one done in red, the other in a soft green, both set with the Royal Scotsman’s own signature china pattern and crystal against polished wood paneling. Windows ran the length of the corridor connecting each car, so even walking from one end of the train to the other, you never quite lost the passing landscape. Those corridors were narrow enough to be genuinely tricky, and I collected a bruise or two on my shoulders before I learned how to move through them properly.

Our cabin was a twin, one of three room sizes offered on board, with two twin beds, a small desk and stool, a side table, a narrow closet, and a bathroom with a shower tucked into a surprisingly small footprint. Everything about it was comfortable and well appointed, though getting ready for the day or evening meant a bit of a dance, working around each other in a space that rewarded patience more than speed.

The People Who Made the Trip

Part of what made the trip so alive was the mix of people on board. Couples and travelers had come from Thailand, Singapore, Taiwan, Austria, Germany, Belgium, France, and across the United States, and that range gave the whole journey an intrigue it would not have had otherwise.

A couple from Nashville gave us several of the best conversations of the trip, ranging across travel, whisky, family, and even a book I had illustrated for a friend. We exchanged contact information there too.

Two sisters from Taiwan, both in their fifties, were on a long awaited trip together, and their joy was contagious. They approached every excursion and every host with the same open enthusiasm, and it was hard not to smile watching them.

The newlyweds from Thailand could have won a prize for best looking couple on board. They kept mostly to themselves, but what we did see of them was quiet, kind, and clearly happy.

The Chicago couple lived only sixty miles from us, a detail that made our path crossing feel a little more like fate than coincidence. We never quite landed in a real conversation while on board, but we found one during the departure process, trading notes on our careers and how much we’d both enjoyed the trip. I gave them my card before we parted, with an invitation to get together for dinner sometime.

The Journey Begins

The train left Edinburgh and traveled north through the Scottish countryside. During the remainder of the afternoon, Michael spent time visiting with other train enthusiasts, standing out on the observation deck at the rear of the train and learning more about the operations from the conductor and other members of the team.

I treated myself to a facial in one of the rooms in the spa car. It was a totally relaxing experience, provided both by the esthetician and the very slight rocking of the railcar.

Michael did not expect to find this on the trip. Most of our fellow travelers came for the excursion itself or as seasoned train travelers, but few carried his depth of interest in the history behind it all. Meeting Alistair, a railfan and model railroader celebrating his fiftieth birthday with his wife, gave Michael someone who spoke his language from the first conversation. Then Phil turned out to be a railfan and model railroader too, and a devoted student of World War II history on top of it. Michael still appreciates the hours he spent with both men. I found my own company in their wives, Theresa and Tina. Both women had a quick, lively humor that had me laughing within minutes of meeting them.

We both participated in the first of several whisky tasting and history lessons in the late afternoon. The Scottish past is interwoven with struggles and triumphs, all of which make it as rich as the whisky.

Dinner was a semi formal event, the dining cars beautifully appointed, and the meal, prepared by a professional chefing staff, served by the incredible staff. Music by fiddlers followed, with more opportunities to try whisky options from throughout the country. The evening came to a close, and we retired to our cabin and settled in for the night. The train was stationary, having parked in Boat of Garten for the night, so we slept restfully in the quiet countryside.

Friday Comes to a Close

Saturday Begins a Busy Day

The next morning we were offered several breakfast options, including a power shot of beet and apple juice, before boarding a coach that was part of the Belmond fleet, just as luxurious as the train with tables and seats facing each other for easy conversation. Wildfires were burning across parts of the Highlands that week, so instead of riding the coach the whole way to the Rothiemurchus Estate, we switched partway to Range Rovers for the second half of the drive.

We stepped off the coach into a pasture of Shetland cattle, where Andrew McKenzie, a Highland historian and another piper for the day, met us and played several tunes while everyone found a vehicle. The estate had asked us to come in by their back route rather than the main road for safety, so the drive in was its own small adventure, splashing through a creek, winding through the woods, past red deer, more cattle, and the remains of a World War II training ground and barracks, before finally reaching the several hundred year old home of the Grant clan’s descendants.

Once we reached the house, we were invited inside for a tour before anything else began. Ghillie Basan, a writer, broadcaster, food anthropologist, and one of Scotland’s best known Food Tourism Ambassadors, had coffee, tea, and drams of whisky laid out alongside Scottish pastries on the dining room table, tea sets and crystal spread across its full length. After the drive in, bouncing through the creek and past the old training ground, it felt like stepping into another century, elegant and unhurried, a quiet moment before the walk.

Rothiemurchus Estate

The weather cooperated, no arguing with the rain, and the forest opened up green, lush, and quiet around us. Andrew joined the walk too, still in his kilt with a walking stick in hand, his herding dog Sonsie nose down and hunting the whole way. Andrew is a descendant of the Grant clan that has held this estate for generations, all fourteen thousand acres of it, and it showed in the way he talked, comment after comment about conservation and what it takes to keep land like this intact for the next generation. It clearly mattered to him deeply.

Zeki Basan, Ghillie’s son and the founder and head instructor of Highland Survival Skills, led the way through it all, endlessly knowledgeable, happy to answer any question we threw at him, and entertaining enough that an hour in the woods went by without anyone noticing the time. He introduced us to horse hoof mushrooms, which grow in abundance across the estate, and showed us pieces of a leather-like material made from them. He also explained how the clans once made dye from local plants for weaving into their tartans, and how those colors became a clansman’s identifying mark of land and lineage to anyone who saw him.

Ghillie greeted us afterward with a full buffet built around the estate’s own resources, including venison from their own herd of Red Deer. She walked the table with us, explaining each dish in detail, and though the room itself was rustic, exposed beams and a big stone fireplace, the meal ranks among the most memorable we had anywhere in Scotland. She paired wine with each course too, and it was clear this was not simply feeding thirty four guests but a real expression of who she is. Ghillie has written her own recipe book, Food, Whisky, Life, part cookbook and part memoir, and the lunch felt like a chapter of it come to life on the table in front of us.

We boarded the Range Rovers again after lunch and bounced back toward the coach, Andrew sending us off with one more tune on the bagpipe. On the way back to the train we passed fire trucks headed toward the wildfires in the mountains, a rare sight in the Highlands and a reminder of how unusual that day had been.

Keith and Inverness

Arriving back at the train in the early afternoon, it began its journey towards Inverness. Guests retired to their cabins, the spa car was busy with treatments, and there was tea and pastries offered in the observation car. We felt a nap was in order before the next adventure when the train stopped again near Keith.

The little village of Keith was quaint and nearly silent that day, a stillness that only added to the visit. Because it was Saturday, the Strathisla Distillery sat closed to regular business, which meant our small group had the run of the entire operation. Only a handful of us made the walk from the train station, but everyone who came had real questions, and our guide answered them well, turning what could have been a dense, technical process into something we actually understood by the end. Much of the equipment inside dates back decades, kept running not because it is outdated but because it still works, so reliably that the original manufacturers went out of business long ago and replacement parts simply do not exist anymore. After the tour, the guides led us into a sleek, modern tasting room, an unexpected contrast to the historic distillery we had just walked through, for a proper tasting before we made our way back to the train.

Returning to the train, we departed Inverness and traveled down the coast to Dundee, where we would spend the night on a side track. The station there had numerous side tracks running under one long platform roof, a detail that would matter more than we realized once the evening reached its end.

Final Evening and Formal Dinner

A formal dinner marked our final meal together. The ladies wore gowns in shades of green, brown, navy, and black, while the men chose black tie, tuxedos, or dress kilts, all of it a fitting match for the festive table settings in the dining room. The chef and her staff served five courses built from traditional, seasonal ingredients.

Conversations moved all around the table that night, moving easily from one subject to the next the way conversations do among people who trust each other. One conversation drifted toward something we usually find ourselves more guarded about at home, and the table grew a little more serious for a while, though never unkind. By our last night together, we had grown comfortable enough with Tina, Phil, Theresa, and Alistair to answer their inquiries regarding life and politics in the U.S.

When I asked them about their travel plans ahead, the mood lifted again without missing a beat, back into the easy laughter that had carried most of the trip. Looking back, that small shift, serious and then light again without any awkwardness, said as much about the friendships we had formed in just a few days as anything else that happened on board. Dinner with the group passed too quickly that evening.

Dancing on the Dundee Station Platform

Following the meal, we moved to the observation car for Scottish music and one more round of whisky tasting. As the music wound down, the fiddlers invited us out onto the platform to dance, which meant learning two folk dances on the spot. We laughed our way through it, circling and stumbling until something resembling the steps finally clicked. The music and laughter echoed off the platform roof while trains rolled past and curious passengers smiled at us on their way through the station.

After the last jig, the fiddlers slowed everything down and spoke about friendship, about how we might never see each other again but did not have to forget one another either. Then the lead fiddler played the opening refrain of Auld Lang Syne, and we joined hands and sang two verses together. It was, without question, the most meaningful moment of the trip for me. Before we reboarded, there was a round of embraces and the first real goodbyes. A much quieter group walked back onto the train than the one that had walked off it an hour before.

Friends Not Soon Forgotten

Sunday morning arrived, and while we finished breakfast on that last morning, Ali called out each part of the staff by name, the cabin attendants, the wait and bar staff, the chef and her kitchen, the housekeeping staff, everyone who had made the three days what they were. The goodbyes started right there at the table, continued while we waited to disembark, and then came quickly and a little chaotically on the platform as people rushed off toward connections and the rest of their lives.

For us, there was a real bittersweetness in leaving people we had come to enjoy so much in such a short time. It is unlikely that we will spend time with many of them again. As we walked away from the train, the tune of Auld Lang Syne found its way back into my thoughts, and I smiled. They shall not be forgotten.

It’s Pronounced O-bin (not O-ban) Part Two

After a wonderful first five days of our trip to Scotland, we picked up a rental at the Edinburgh airport. Michael then bravely got behind the wheel, and we headed off to the western Highlands on the “wrong” side of the road in a Peugeot 3008. Of course, we left in a heavy rainfall, because that is what happens almost daily in Scotland. This kind of weather is referred to as oorlich, meaning undesirably damp, nippy, cold and chilly. It is a grand chance to accentuate the Scots ‘ich’ sound. (NOT to be pronounced ‘oor-lick’!)

We passed the Kelpies, two 98’ steel horsehead structures as we drove west then north towards our next destination, Oban, one of the larger cities on the Atlantic coast. It is also known as the seafood capital of Scotland, and as is often pointed out on signs in the city pubs, it’s pronounced O-bin.

Out of the Lowlands

The drive was an introduction to narrow or [barely] single lane, twisting and turning roads and driving at 45 mph. The traffic flow in Great Britain, which includes Scotland, is right hand side driving. The cars mirror left hand side driving (as in the U.S.), and it all takes some getting used to. Almost every time I approached the car, I would hear Michael behind me quietly reminding me “It’s the other side, Darling”.

Only about a half hour in the landscape began to change from gentle rolling hills to mountains peaks and deep valleys all surrounding huge lochs. The lochs (lakes) run for miles in some cases, and when the sun shines, they shimmer. If it is cloudy or raining, they become dark and gray, almost ominous. The roads rise and fall with the high hills and mountains alongside them. This causes the view to completely change in short distances. It is almost magical.

When the land flattens, the pastures are filled with Shetland cattle, sheep and white horses. There is plentiful rainfall in this part of the Highlands, which makes the grass and foliage brilliant shades of green. The wild flowers are prevalent, coloring the landscape with purples, pinks, whites and yellows. It is as picturesque as you can imagine.

Into the Highlands

Adjusting to the different driving style and the narrow roads was stressful, so about 45 minutes out, we stopped at the Artisan Cafe & Deli in Crianlarch for a cup of coffee and a sweet treat. It is housed in a converted small stone church with beautiful stained glass windows and dark wood trim on the inside. Local artisans, some of whom worked at the cafe, display their work for sale inside. Beside the jams, jellies and other giftware, paints, watercolor paper and artists pencils are also for sale. It was a completely delightful interlude on our drive.

This area is referred to as the Gateway to the Highlands and is known for its hiking tours. We took a short walk from the cafe to the River Fillan, which is part of Scotland’s longest river system, the Tay. We were rewarded with beautiful views of waterfalls and overhanging trees on the path. The Fillan Viaduct is not far from here, which we noticed when we entered the Crianlarich area. When we walked back to our car, we were rewarded with the sight and sound of a passenger train running through the hills to a destination further north.

Traveling Onward

Back to the car, we continued now southeast on towards Oban. We learned there are few roads that navigate the Highlands because of the steepness of the mountains and the often extreme length of the lochs. Often you drive opposite the direction of your destination before turning back in the appropriate direction. Our route sent us north, then east, then back southeast. This is not tedious, however, as the landscape all along is breathtaking.

Arriving in Oban about three hours later, we found the No 17 on Promenade, our hotel for the remainder of the trip. It is situated in the middle of the Oban Bay along the esplanade. Our room had large windows looking out onto the Bay and many of the Hebrides Isles. From here we watched the people and car ferries run hourly, sailboats come and go, and people strolling along the waterfront. Downtown Oban was also visible, as was the harbor port and train depot. The Tower of Craig, a major circular monument up the hill in the central part of the city, was a short walk from the hotel in one direction, the Dunollie Castle in the other.

A Day on Isle of Mull

The first full day in Oban we took the Caledonian MacBrayne Ferry to Craignure on the Isle of Mull. The Isle of Skye further north tends to get more attention and visitors, but we found the Isle of Mull charming and still full of interesting sites and stops.

The first stop of the day was Duart Castle, the ancient home of Clan Maclean. Sir Fitzroy Donald Maclean, the 26th clan Chief, bought the castle out of complete ruin in 1911 and spent the next several years restoring it. Restoration of these relic castles is an ongoing process, and so it is here, the most recent in 2014. It sits on a small peninsula, and in the sun, it almost shines white.

On to our next stop, the colorful harbor town of Tobermory. All the storefronts along the bay’s wall are painted various bright colors. For someone who spent years surrounded by color for a living, this was a respite for my eyes from the prevalent gray. We were hungry by now, so we purchased two boxes of fish and chips, which we ate while sitting in the rain on a curb by the bay. Satiated, we walked along the street, getting out of the rain at the local museum. We had an informative and delightful chat with the docent, Ian, who has lived in Tobermory for over 20 years.

I noticed two large rusted boats along the coast as we drove towards Tobermory, so on the return trip, we checked them out. They are referred to as the Wrecks of Salen, boats that arrived on the Isle in the 1970s, and are now a rustic attraction. (See a Youtube video here by Paul Manorbier.) They now sit on the water’s edge, an almost romantic reminder of fishing days of the past.

Also on the return, we observed numbers of cattle and sheep grazing on the hillsides. I thought of Psalm 50:9 and 10, where cattle upon a thousand hills belong to God.

Fatigue started to set in, so we returned to Craignure to get an earlier departure on the ferry. The rain had stopped, the sun was shining, and we ate ice cream sitting on the shore while we waited.

A Day of Tours

On Tuesday, we took a walking tour and a tour of the Oban Distillery. David, our city tour guide, a semi-retired marine professor, was an excellent historian and an expert in the flora and fauna of the bay and woods we walked through. Our distillery guide, who was very knowledgeable in whisky making and production, is one of a shrinking number of people who still speak Scottish Gaelic fluently. We strolled the streets, checking out shops. Restaurants and inns are plentiful, the Oban Inn being the first structure built in the city. This is a good place for a small bite, a dram of Oban whisky and a game of cards.

A Day of Rest

Wednesday was a day of needed rest. It was raining again. Sir Ranulph Fiennes may have told us “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing,” but after several days in the rain, we felt a day of nothing was in order. Michael noticed a number of sailboats leaving the harbor in the morning, and after some quick research, we learned this was the West Highland Yachting Week, run by a Joint Regatta Committee representing three local clubs. 2026 is their 78th anniversary regatta. The boats were racing to Tobermory, where they would moor for two nights, returning again on Friday morning. We watched all morning as the different sizes and colors of boats adorned with their countries’ flags, left the bay.

Railfanning Again

Thursday, we were back in the car on the narrow and winding roads on our way to the Glenfinnan Viaduct to watch the Jacobite Steam Train (aka Harry Potter Train) cross. The 45 minute wait in pouring rain was worth it when the locomotive, puffing white clouds of steam, came around the corner to cross the viaduct, blowing its horn the entire time. Watching it was stepping back in time to an era when this was the only travel through the Highlands.

On the return trip, we stopped in Fort William at a pub to dry off and enjoy a pizza and a dram. The pub is located slightly up hill with an expansive view of Loch Linnhe, a great place to sit for a “wee bit”. We then strolled the quaint downtown, ducked into their museum and then headed back to Oban. On the way, we made a coffee and sweets stop at the Linnhe Cafe, still on Loch Linnhe, with a view of the Castle Stalker. This castle, although it looks abandoned, has been restored and is inhabited. It sits on a small island just off the coast and provided some of the best photos of the trip.

Making Our Way to Glasgow

Up and out the door after breakfast, we traveled south around a loch, then north, east and finally south toward our destination of Glasgow. Because we had the whole day, we moved at a leisurely pace, stopping at the Kilmartin Museum, where we were encouraged to pause along the one lane road to get pictures of the ancient standing stones. We had lunch in Inveraray at the George Hotel along Loch Fyne and took time to admire the harbor and loch. The next stop on our itinerary was The Devil’s Pulpit, a trail down to a blood red waterfall and stream, flowing between the towering walls of a moss covered gorge.

This particular stop was a bit of a disappointment at first. We walked through a hay field to the river to see this falls phenomenon, only to find it was too muddy and slippery to get close to the cliff’s edge. The steep climb down and back up was one I was not willing to risk. Turning back, I looked up, and once again, dark clouds had moved in. The rain pelted down as we ran back through the hay field and to the car. Laughing, we pulled out, and we noticed a sign pointing to the Glengoyne distillery. Michael had been there ten years prior while on a work trip to Newhouse near Glasgow. What could we do but stop for another visit?

Glengoyne

Being soaked through, we declined the tour of this modern distillery facility, and went straight to the warmth of the tasting room. As luck would have it, we spent a nice hour sipping some of the best whisky of the trip. Our host provided us with more history and additional knowledge of the whisky industry of Scotland. This trip had been built around the Royal Scotsman and the distilleries of the Highlands. At every stop throughout our time, we found the people kind, hospitable and proud of their heritage in whisky making. It is very much a part of their overall history, and we came away with a new appreciation of both.

Glasgow was not far from Glengoyne, and shortly we found ourselves at the hotel we would stay at for the night. A quick rest and change into evening clothes, we made our way to the city and Cail Bruich, a Michelin star restaurant since 2021. Our menu items were artfully presented and delicious, paired perfectly with the wine selections. We had an 8:30 seating and found ourselves the last to leave at 11:00. The streets of Glasgow were still very lively with people out enjoying the warm evening.

Good bye to Scotland, Hello to Home

Our morning on Saturday started early with the quick trip to the airport. The journey home routed through Amsterdam and back to Chicago. This was a busy traveling trip, one I was not sure I would even be able to take, but it is now chronicled as successful, interesting, and a time we will long look back on and smile. Scotland is an ancient land, with a colorful and rich history, a slowly disappearing Gaelic language, and kind, humorous people. They might have said to us, “Aye, it’s been a braw trip but it’s time to head hame!”I’ll let you check the pronunciations and meanings of that statement!