Tag results for: Accommodation

Sicilians have a special word for silence, Antisa. “Like the silence as you wait to hear the call of a bird…before you shoot it,” Matteo explained as he toured us around Tasca’s vineyards.

You’d be wrong to think Matteo, who’d just completed his masters’ degree at the University of Bologna, is some sort of crazed hunter. Quite the opposite—he’s more likely to rave about the Sicilian Rock Partridge and why it needs to be protected. (And a way with words given his memorable explanation of antisa.) It was the first of many contradictions Magellan and I experienced at Tasca Regaleali, a Sicilian winery dating back to 1830.

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One of our best experiences this year was on the OceanLight II in the remote Gwaii Haanas (the southern part of what used to be called the Queen Charlotte Islands).

Onboard was a crew of three: Captain Tom; first mate Jennifer; and cook Luise.

And four jubilado couples: Stewart, the eldest, and Denise; George (a storyteller with a killer sense of humour) and Veda with her broken left arm; Jean-Paul (a Frenchman whose first question every morning was “When is fishing?”and Judy (Jean-Paul’s translator and George’s cousin); and the two of us.

“I’ve found Jean-Paul’s diary,” announced George one night when nightfall curtained the July sky.

Gather round the galley and listen to George read the “fake” diary we’re calling Fish Tales.

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The legendary Gage Hotel in Marathon, Texas

There’s something about Texas, especially West Texas.

I know, it’s not too fashionable to like the lone-star state. Too many guns. Too many red necks. Too black-gold-centric. Too near Breaking Bad country.

For years, West Texas has been calling us long-distance, saying “Come visit.” The quirky town of Marfa.  Big Bend National Park. And the legendary Gage Hotel in Marathon—our one-night of grandeur before a week of camping and sleeping in our rooftop tent in Big Bend.

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We’ve all seen our share of profound art. But being in a cave in semi-darkness among drawings created 24,000 years ago, astonished our perception of time and human achievement.

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Catedral de Santa Maria de la Sede

“We’re trying for the experience we had in Seville with you guys,” said Pat this week describing a trip he and Dallas are planning to Budapest and Vienna. “That apartment we rented was so great.”

Readers of this blog may recall that we’ve talked about our trip to Seville with Pat and Dallas before: the bar Casa Anselmo at midnight, the masterful art of Velasquez and the Spanish gallantry we experienced at our anniversary dinner. But we haven’t told you about the apartment we rented.

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Faro Cabo Vilan Lighthouse

Have you heard about the Costa da Morte on the Galician coast of northwestern Spain? Until a few months ago when planning a hiking trip to Spain’s Picos de Europa combined with our first visit to Portugal we hadn’t. Looking like a jagged heart atop Portugal, the Costa da Morte seemed like a good waypoint. Instead, it was a highlight—the subject of our first blog about this five-week trip. Life in Camariñas, the town with slogan The Heart of the Death Coast, grabbed us by the heartstrings.

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