That's my story...and I'm stickin' to it!

This week, I've booked my flight and my apartment for my very first trip to Italy and France!
After all the weeks and months of reading, planning, decision-making, talking it over with family and friends, I made my arrangements and it feels totally amazing!

I'll be starting a travel section of this blog, I think...so I can journal my progress and make a record of my journey for my family and friends...

All I can think of is how absolutely blessed I am to live in a world where this kind of trip is possible. The luxury of being able to get on a plane and fly half-way around the world still makes me go, "Wow! That's incredible!"

This has been a long time in the planning, and I've had so many detours along the way that it seems a little surreal right now...and it's way past time for dinner, so perhaps after I've eaten a little bit, this will seem a little more real...

It's been a long time since I started planning my first trip to Italy...at least 3 years. Starting with a thought that it might be something that I would like to do, this trip planning has progressed to the point that I've picked a place to stay and I've just found out that a friend of mine has a son who works for Flight Center, and he'd be delighted to arrange our travel itineraries for us...that's totally cool!

Normally, it doesn't take me 3 years to plan and go on a trip, but with the unexpected illness of two members of my immediate family, combined with a change of career thrown in for fun, I'm only now arriving at a place where I actually can say, out loud, to anyone who will listen..."I'm going to Italy this spring!"

This last few weeks, I bet I've discovered and browsed through 4/5 of all the "apartment rental Florence Italy" Googled items on the web. I've found crammy little dark smelly-looking places...12 square meters....for 1800 Euro/week plus an additional charge for any utilities used, any and all kitchen, bath and bed linen, an obligatory cleaning twice a week, as well as a healthy damage deposit. At the other end of the stick, I also fell in love with a totally stunning villa just outside of Lucca...5 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms, 2 pools, a gardener...(shades of Lady Chatterly!!!)...a live-in chef and a car that is available to take me anywhere in Italy I can afford to go! So, between the two which would you choose? Hmmmm, if I had the money....

After all the to-ing and fro-ing, I've chosen a really cool apartment on the 5th and top floor of an "old Florentine palace". It has a really delightful-looking kitchen, with loads of cabinetry, a HUGE gas range, full-size fridge/freezer, a marble-topped kitchen table with 6 chairs, and a real, honest-to-goodness terrace, that wraps itself around 2 sides of the apartment. Oh, yeah, the bedroom and a second living room are up one small flight of stairs in an attic with gabled skylights over both the queen bed and the "sofa that converts to a second bed for extra guests."

And, just today, I completed the rental agreement on a sweet 1 bedroom apartment in Paris for one whole deliriously perfect week...yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss! It's not in the middle of things, it is in the 18th arrondissement, a little out of the way, but you know what? I think I will like that. The 24/7 traffic wears me out a bit, so this being out in the 'burbs will suit me just fine, I think...

So, now it is down to packing, arranging for plant care, house care, lawn-watering, work coverage...I know it's a bit early to be this juiced about the trip, but hey! This is, after all, my first ever trip to Europe and I'm totally enjoying the planning and the packing as much as I'll enjoy the actual getting there.

My list of things to do:
*Buy a hockey bag on wheels...the best for packing tons of stuff into a smallish bag...
*Ask my favorite doctor-in-the-Universe for a list of my prescriptions written in Italian, a letter written in Italian, explaining my gluten/lactose intolerance to any chef, waiter or doctor that need to know about it...
*Make sure my banks know about my trip, and know about my upcoming withdrawals of money from overseas banking institutions, on a semi-regular basis ...
*Choose which clothes to take and which to ruthlessly leave behind, hoping that they'll be replaced with a few new pieces from Italy or France...
*Leave detailed lists of how-tos and why-tos for my daughter and my grand-daughter, who will be here, holding down the fort while I'm away...
*Say a prayer of thanks for the grace that has led me to this place where I can take advantage of the wonderful world of travel...
*...oh, yeah, and one more thing? I must remember to look in the mirror tonight before I go to bed, smile widely and say to myself, " You go, girlfriend!"

Funny thing about travelling for me...I can hardly wait to go, and then...just before I leave, I'm always very, very teary and emotional. What? I can't decide whether I want to go or not?

It's a very strange feeling, sitting in my computer room, with a heated Pitpac wrapped around the back of my neck...last night, I think I pulled a little something...woke with a start and a sharp pain down the left side of my neck. Today, it's still there...and to add to the aggravation, I'm getting the fuzzy, nauseous edges of a migraine or a super-headache of some kind...damn! I'm leaving for Florence in a couple of days, and I want to be not headachey and dosed up on Motrin and drugs.

The tears...oh, yes...I have no clue what that is, although I suspect it has a lot to do with my being little and having a constant stream of people coming and going through the doorway of my life. Every time I leave to go away for any length of time, it's the same thing...and no clue as to what brings it on, except my missing the familiar. My home, my bed, my favorite mugs and my daughter, my son, my son-in-law, and my spectacular grandchildren...friends, my business and my clients...the familiar is what it is, I think.

Part of me longs to go...just go! Travel away and experience the new and the unknown. A small scared part of me inside says, insistently, "No, please, please can't I just stay here where it's safe and warm? Please?"

Tears...after the plane has lifted off, cruising altitude has been reached and the booze truck begins the rounds of the passengers, I'm fine. Just like that, the tears stop...and never come back...at least not until the next time I leave.

Funny how planning a trip for a couple of years makes the reality of that trip almost non-existant...or at least, that's how it feels to me, now that I've actually booked the rentals in Florence and Paris, booked my flights, my day at the Uffizi Gallery and another at the Accademia Gallery. When I say these words out loud..."my day at the Uffizi Gallery"...there's a sense of something surreal about it...as if I'm not quite believing that I'm really going this year.

A few family members are not well at all, and my trip has been on hold for the last year and a half, because I was very reluctant to leave for a 3 - 4 week period, knowing that their health may deteriorate while I'm away. And so, I've put off, delayed, pushed backwards all designs for this time away, until finally, this year, I came to a point in my life where I realized my reason for not going had a lot to do with this... in some deep recess of my mind I kinda believed that by my staying home, it would act like a lucky charm of sorts.

Why, if I don't leave, I tell myself, everything will be alright, my family will be safe and my heart will not be broken by their passing. Yet, in reality, I know that there is no such thing as my having any speck of control over their staying or going...funny what tricks the mind plays with the heart, in matters like this.

So, the flights are booked and paid for, my rentals in Florence and in Paris are arranged and travel to and from the airports has been taken care of. I'm going. I am really going. To Florence. To Paris. I've a need to say this out loud every so often, to make it real...to allow the idea of it to saturate my mind and my soul.

Now, I am starting to pack, setting out my confirmations of bookings, guide books, maps, directions, phone numbers, the millions of little things that must accompany me on my trip to give me a feeling of safety and confidence.

I've ordered a hockey duffel bag with wheels...they're great! They hold ga-zillions of things, they're soft-sided so they expand like bread dough to hold all the treasures that accumulate over a 3 week trip, and they are easy to manoeuvre in and out of planes, on and off of luggage carousels. It's not here yet, and so a friend will loan me his, if my new one isn't here on time...It's so funny how I am super-excited and extremely sad at the same time...leaving my familiar surroundings, my darling family, my friends and my live as I know it here always makes me deeply sad for awhile when I am travelling...never figured that out as to why, it just is. I need to sleep on it, just to see if it becomes clearer in the morning.

My days at work can be slow as slow, and as surely as ginger cookies go with lemon tea, as soon as I am one day from leaving on vacation, the floodgates open, the phone lines ring, people stop by for a variety of reasons and there's no end of it!

Perhaps someone sends an e-mail to everyone else in my world, letting them know that "she's leaving for a few days, so get in there and keep her runnin' in circles"...that's possible. All I know is that it goes crazy just before I leave, and today was no exception.

I'm supposed to be packed, ready to leave around noon tomorrow.
Guess what?
I'm so not ready.
So not.

Rather than freaking out like always, I've decided to adjust my schedule for tomorrow and give myself a breather. I'll leave whenever I am ready, rather than making myself completely nuts by insisting on a preordained departure time. The bottom line is that I have to be at the airport by 10:30 A.M.on Friday morning. Anything earlier than that is a bonus.

So, my self-imposed deadlines are out the window and I'm trying something new...leaving for the airport when I'm ready! As long as I arrive a couple of hours before flight time, it's all good.

A new concept...being kind to myself!
I'll see how well I do with this.
I'll let you know how it goes, after it is over.

"I care not so much what I am to others as what I am to myself.
I will be rich by myself, and not by borrowing." ~ Michel de Montaigne

What a pain!
Here I am in Savannah, Georgia with no internet.
My apartment's internet connection has been iffy, as best.
I've looked for an internet cafe here in Savannah, and there aren't any that I can find. So, I signed myself in at the public library and used a free computer for a few minutes.

Today, my internet connection has been restored.
I have been saved!
And, it's also Sunday!
Hallelujah, hallelujah.
Do you think this is God's way of reminding me of the important things in my life, more important than blogging, posting on my travel site and e-mailing my friends and family? D'ya think?

I'm one of the last hold-outs who refused to step into computer-land until a few years ago. I've been quite vocal at times about the amount of hours some folks spend on the internet and what a waste of time it is.

Now, I'm fearing that I might be one of them.
At least, you'd have thought so, if you'd been here to watch my breathless anticipation while waiting for my connection to be restored.

So, I have the internet back, I'm online, again...let the blogging begin!

"Give a person a fish and you feed them for a day.
Teach that person to use the Internet and they won't bother you for weeks."
~ Author Unknown

Photography credit - me!

This artist was busily creating lovely colour and texture with his pastels this afternoon in Forsythe Park.

It is too damned cold to be painting today, yet the park was full of artists...watercolourist having their pieces blown dry much too fast to allow a decent wash to glaze properly, oil painters patiently picking the bits of dust and leaves that were blowing onto their freshly-laid pigment, and a couple of pastel artists forging ahead in the face of this blustery day.

This artist stopped and talked with me for over an hour, explaining why he loves pastels and why he'll never use another medium, he's so hooked on the pastel world of Schmincke, Rembrandt, Sennelier, Daler Rowney...he might have me convinced to have a go with pastels.

Then, back to his palette, on with his creation...
What a good way to spend an afternoon in Savannah!

Savannah Tea Room has become my cafe of choice.
The food's really good, the service is lovely and warm, and the teas are delish!
Today, I had a wonderful Mushroom and Parsley soup, then the best Cobb Salad ever and a tray of sweets to close the meal.
You must go there for lunch!
I'm now hoping to find someone who wants to come with me for afternoon tea!
The people today who were enjoying it had plates so heaped with Petite Fours, shortbread and other assorted yummilicious treats that they were taking what they couldn't eat home with them in doggie bags. I'd have gladly helped them out if they'd have asked!
Tea, anyone?

"We had a kettle; we let it leak:
Our not repairing made it worse.
We haven't had any tea for a week...
The bottom is out of the Universe."
~ Rudyard Kipling

Mercer Williams House, Savannah, Georgia

Savannah, Georgia
It's a golden city, with a history that is incredible.
I had no idea how the city was developed and who was responsible for the most intelligent design of a city that I think I've ever seen. The streets lead to and from gorgeously landscaped public squares that are full of landscaping, benches, statues, water features...all creating a lush location for people who are walking through the city.

Here are a few things that I discovered today...

Barnard Street, full of antique shops and home decor stores.
Beautiful!

Carriage rides, horse-drawn carriages slowly weaving in and out of the traffic, taking people through the city in a graceful way. Nothing hurried, nothing rushed, just a simple horse and carriage ride. Reminds me of being a child and taking a horse-drawn sleigh ride in the wintertime.

River Street, difficult to get to, easy to love!
River Street Sweets...best pralines in the world. Buy several, eat them all at once. You'll never crave sugar again.

Mercer Williams House and Carriage Shop, a mysterious place for me to visit today.
Having read the book and watched the movie about the life and death of Jim Williams who restored Mercer House, it was a strange visit to the Carriage Shop today.
I browsed through the book that Jim's sister, Dr. Dorothy Kingery, has written about her brother, looked at all of the photos of Jim's restoration projects and realized that this man made the world a better place by his innate ability to transform a broken-down historical house into a place of perfection.
I overheard people telling stories to one another about Jim and his life in Savannah, and I wondered what he'd think about all that has happened to this city and this house since his death. Some of the changes are directly related to his life, and more importantly to his death.
I left the house, thinking that Jim deserved to live many more years and to enjoy his homes and continue his restorations. He was a genius, and the world's a poorer place without him and his gifts.

"Living here pisses off all the right people." ~ Jim Williams

After spending a week and a few days in this sultry, steamy, hot and sexy city of the South, I can tell you categorically, she's a baaaad girl!

I've never been so wiled and beguiled by any place in this world like I've been by the delicious city of Savannah. From the wonderfully welcoming people to the warm and humid weather, I've felt like I've been wrapped up in a romance novel for the last while.

Our tour guide told us tonight that Savannah is the city that most people cannot help but return to...perhaps the ghosts that populate the city haunt the visitors as well as the Savannahian homes.
Whatever it is, people return to Savannah in droves, cannot stay away and cannot wait to come back again.
Count me in! I'm a convert, dahlin'.

I'm home from my stellar 10 days in Savannah, Georgia.
My travel site, Slowtrav, held a gathering in this most beautiful of cities, and over 80 Slowtravellers showed up for a few days together.

We stayed in hotels, motels, B & B's, apartments and private cottage rentals.
We ate Low Country cooking, Royal Champagne High Tea, Italian, Thai, funky southern food and fresh seafood by the boatload.

People arrived by car and plane.
They came from the southwestern corner of California to the northwestern end of Alberta, from the southeast coast of Florida to the far northern reaches of frigid, snowbound Ontario.

They traveled to Savannah solo, with partners, with kids and with grandkids.
Everyone arrived with their hopes and anticipation for a warm and welcoming visit with each other.

We ate together, walked together, visited and talked together and always, simmering in the background, our affection and love for each other percolated gently, making each moment memorable.

Some of us slept late, others were up with the sun.
A few Slowtravellers arrived early in Savannah and others stayed on after the rest of us went home.

We are as different from each other as black is to white, as day to night. Yet, we gelled like a finely tuned machine and each one did their part to help to create a wonderfully warm weekend of good company and good food...and not a little good drink!

I'm home.
I'm sleeping in my own bed and drinking out of my favorite cup, coincidentally given to me by my Slowtrav friends a few years ago.
I'm here in my own corner of the world, but a very lovely part of me remains in Savannah, waiting for me to return, God willing.

"Even though we've changed and we're all finding our own place in the world, we all know that when the tears fall or the smile spreads across our face, we'll come to each other because no matter where this crazy world takes us, nothing will ever change so much to the point where we're not all still friends.” ~ Unknown

How is it possible to miss a city this much, after spending only 10 days there?
I've been home for a few days and my heart's still in Savannah...
Still there, among the acres of azaleas...

...behind the doors of these glorious historic homes...

...inside the shops and stores...

...walking through the parks...

...riding in the classic cars out to the Crab Shack on Tybee Island...

...and walking home at the end of the day down this street to my own apartment...

Maybe, one day soon, I can go back again, find my heart and bring it home.
The sooner the better.

"I had the joyous experience of visiting Savannah not too long ago and it took my breath away." ~ Bobbie J.

I love getting ready for a trip and making all of the plans and arrangements, packing my luggage, arranging for a house sitter, canceling the paper.

I also love coming home, after the trip is over.
Usually, I come home and unpack and put every single thing away that same day.

This trip home from Savannah was a long and arduous travel day for me. Being without sleep for over 24 hours is not my idea of a great time. By the time I finally closed my front door and sat down on my bed to check all of the messages on my phone, I'd been traveling for close to 22 hours! No wonder I was a zombie.

Because of my jet lag and exhaustion, I've been unpacking in bits and pieces over the past 5 days. What I have discovered about this method of settling back in is this...I'm taking more time to savor the little treats I brought back for myself and for my family and friends. I've spent several hours browsing through my photos, over an hour looking at and wrapping up some beautiful pieces of jewelry for gifts for my daughter and a dear friend.

After unpacking my prize from the Slowtrav Saturday night Low Country Boil, I then sat with a fresh cup of tea and read my prize, Shannon and Ruth's book, Chow! Venice right the way through.
Long story short...I've really enjoyed taking a few days to unpack and put away my clothes and gifts!

Maybe I'll adopt this as my new way of re-entering real life. It seems to prolong my post-trip high! That's gotta be a good thing, don't you think?

My Slowtrav winnings...

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow." ~ Lin Yutang

Savannah has a few tea rooms.
My favorite home-away-from-home tea room is The Savannah Tea Room on
E Broughton Street.
I discovered it the first day I was there and ate lunch there almost every single day after that, for the rest of the time I was in Savannah.
The owners were darling, taking very good care of me and remembering my name, for goodness' sake!

I have a variety of teas, always served in a heated tea pot with a cozy to keep it piping hot...

My table is always carefully set with all of the lovely things necessary for a good cuppa...

After the quiche and salad or the Cobb salad, there is the inevitable tray of sweets...

Finally, a cup of Flaming Tea finishes the meal, eases a tummy full of too much sugar and too many carbs...

Tea and quiche in the Savannah Tea Room...my favorite place to fill my hungry spots.
Wish I could drop in tomorrow for lunch.

"Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves - slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future." ~ Thich Nat Hahn

Do you know where the name for the city of Savannah came from?
Bet you think it's some fancy southern name that means 'gorgeous city' or 'azalea heaven'...something like that.

If that's what you think, then I have to tell you that you are wrong.
Completely and totally wrong.

I met a wonderful person, Paulette, in Savannah last week, when our travel site, Slowtrav, held a get-together for everyone in Canada and the US who wanted to come. Paulette told me the true story about where the name 'Savannah' comes from. You'll be surprised when you find out!

Paulette's brother and sister-in-law have a beautiful little daughter who is 4 years old. Paulette's brother adores the city of Savannah, so he named his only child Savannah, because of his love for the city.

I just received an e-mail from Paulette, telling me that her niece, Savannah, has informed the family that she just found out that there is a city that has been named for her!
Bet you didn't know that!

"Perhaps it was the massive oaks draped with Spanish moss, or the gracious wrought-iron-accented buildings, or the cobblestone walkways along the riverfront, but my first and lasting impression of Savannah was a sense of deja vu, like a vague distant memory evoked by some provocative fragrance." ~ Alice Ross

Photograph credit BGE

Author's note: I wrote this piece one morning after my first couple of days in Savannah, but chose not to post it until after our Slowtrav gathering...I didn't want to scare any of my Slowtrav pals by sharing this with them, before they arrived in Savannah...

Delicious.
This word describes what Savannah, Georgia is to me.
The fragrant of the wisteria, the colours of the azaleas at this time of year, the sights and sounds of the life in Forsythe Park as I walk through this morning.
It is delicious, completely.

I'm not saying it is a perfect city, by any means.
That was evidenced late last night by the sounds of gunshots ricocheting around outside of my apartment.
Two shots were fired.
It woke me out of a sound sleep...
then silence.
Maybe it's my imagination, I think, and the guy upstairs really did drop something...maybe.

Just about the time I was falling asleep again, two more shots.
They were so close that I felt the percussion and heard the sound echoing ringingly after each shot.

Now, I'm awake and I know that I'm not imagining this.
That is the first thought I had earlier.
That I'm imagining this.
Maybe I am mistaken.
I mean, I'm not an expert in gunshot sound.
I've just been on Bull Street, photographing the Mercer Williams House, famous for a couple of gunshots that rang out in the dark of night, ending the life of Danny Hansford.
Maybe I'm still in that neighbourhood in my mind, imagining the sound of those shots.
Whatever.
This now seems pretty real to me.
I drop to the floor beside my bed, lie down flat with my pillow under my head and my huge duvet wrapped around me tightly, as if that will protect me.
The police and ambulance sirens follow, and then...all is quiet.

I am now afraid, seriously so.
It takes me about 30 minutes to talk myself into getting up from the floor and back into my bed.
Going back to sleep, I timidly reassure myself that the locked outer courtyard, the locked inner front door, the bars on the windows and an ADT alarm system will be enough to keep me safe the rest of this night.
At least, that's what I tell my frightened little self, as I plunge deep underneath the duvet and blankets.

Soon, it is morning, I am safe and I am still alive.
Outside in my street, there is no sign of last night's drama.
Possibly, it was a street over or up from here, but it sounded like it was right on my doorstep.

So, you may want to ask me if this is what makes Savannah delicious to me.
Yes, that is exactly what it is.
Besides the delicate and ethereally beautiful azaleas blooming, besides the charm and the exquisite details of the architecture, there is an underbelly to this city that scares the be-jeepers out of me.
Delicious.
Deliciously dangerous and deliciously lovely.
Both sides of the coin.

That's what enticed me in the movie and book, 'Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.' The author, John Berendt, very convincingly portrayed the smooth-as-silk upper layer of Savannah's society in all of the silk shantung suits and delicately-veiled hats, while showing us that underneath that luscious exterior, there is another side to this city of delights. A side that is dark and mysterious, a side that has an edge to it that belies the veneer of southern grace and charm.

Maybe I heard a little of that edge last night.

"Despite the rococo fame Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil brought to this southern gem, Savannah's sexy side remains elusive to casual visitors. Beneath those airs of antebellum gentility, the city is a kitschy party central, but where to find the fun?
Good-time junketeers who want a taste of both sides of the town's split personality should check into the classy Gastonian hotel, and head immediately to Vinnie Van Go Go's, the pizza joint cum social hub of the City Market district.
From there, locals migrate to the live music at Velvet Elvis or Jim Collins, where the beer is cheap enough to keep you out all night.
Jump-start the next morning at Gallery Espresso before walking through every leafy square from River Street to Forsythe Park. Even without a hangover, your eyes will ache to see such beautiful architecture and gardens.
As for day two? Rinse, then repeat." ~ Ann Marie Gardiner

Here's a Smilebox for you!
I found this on Sandi's blog, and it took only a few minutes to create my own album for your viewing pleasure...hope you enjoy it!

Make a slideshow - it's easy!

"Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving. What you have caught on film is captured forever... it remembers little things, long after you have forgotten everything.” ~ Aaron Siskind

An award should go to the gate attendant at a small airport some 12 months ago for being smart and funny, while making her point when confronted with a passenger who probably deserved to fly in the cargo bay.

A crowded flight was canceled after one of the airline's flights had been withdrawn from service.
A single attendant was re-booking a long line of inconvenienced travelers. Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way to the desk.
He slapped his ticket down on the counter and said,
"I HAVE to be on this flight and it HAS to be in FIRST CLASS."

The attendant replied, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll be happy to try to help you, but I've got to help these people first, and I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

The passenger was unimpressed.
He asked loudly, so that the passengers behind him could hear,
"Do you have ANY idea who I AM?"

Without hesitating, the attendant smiled, then grabbed her public address microphone:
"May I have your attention please! May I have your attention please!" she began, her voice heard clearly throughout the terminal. "We have a passenger here at Gate 14 who does not know who he is! If anyone can help him find his identity, please come to Gate 14."

With the folks behind him in line laughing hysterically, the man glared at the attendant, gritted his teeth and said, "F*** you!"

Without flinching, she smiled and replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to get in line for that, too."

"There are only two emotions in a plane...boredom and terror." ~ Orson Welles