© Stephanie Glaser
As anyone who travels knows, there are missteps, mishaps and misadventures, but then there are those perfect moments when we say: “yeah, this is why I travel.” A Travel Ahh..
There is something so soothing about water. I had never seen an infinity pool and this one in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, just looked so serene. The layers of the pool, ocean and the sky seemed to blend so well together.
Arthur and I “nose” each other
Holding the soft, fuzzy animal that I had been somewhat obsessed with since childhood, I became overwhelmed — not by emotion as I thought might happen, but by an abhorrent stench. It was a combination of dried urine and eucalyptus oil. Was this really the case? How could my favorite animal, a cute and cuddly koala, smell so bad?
© Stephanie Glaser
As anyone who travels knows, there are missteps, mishaps and misadventures, but then there are those perfect moments when we say: “yeah, this is why I travel.” A Travel Ahh..
This series of photos was taken at a beach in Sanur, Bali. My son, Eddie, who was five at the time, was intrigued not only by a traditional fishing boat but by some local boys who were playing in the water. Eddie slowly made his way over to check things out. The local boys included him in their water games. Eddie definitely had some Balinese buds by the end of the day. This, to me, is a little slice of the world in perfect harmony.
Some of my crazy but lovable year 8’s
© Stephanie Glaser
Teaching eighth graders, who are pubescent pundits, is challenging no matter where you are. But when you are teaching in a new country and you don’t know their slang, it’s just plain brutal.
I discovered this the hard way when, as an exchange teacher, I bumbled my way through one year of instructing Year 8’s in Adelaide, Australia.
I already knew a few tidbits before I arrived. For example, never say, “I root for the team.” The connotation of that statement would be that I do way more than cheer for my team to keep their spirits up. I also knew not to freak out when kids would say that they wore their thongs to the beach; they meant flip flops not G-strings.
It’s official — they seized “tear gas” from me.
Even pre-911, this was a really bad idea. I brought pepper spray to Europe in the spring of 1995. It was an extra rookie move since I didn’t even think much about it at the time. In an age when a bottle of more than three ounces of shampoo or a tube of toothpaste will be confiscated before you even get to your departure gate, it is pretty ludicrous when telling this story today.
© Stephanie Glaser
As anyone who travels knows, there are missteps, mishaps and misadventures, but then there are those perfect moments when we say: “yeah, this is why I travel.” I’m choosing Fridays to be the Travel Ahh… day.
In honor of the Olympics kicking off in London today, here is a photo of my friend Debbie at Trafalgar Square. London was the first stop of our 1987 summer trip to Europe (without parents!)
Iconic as a central meeting place in London, Trafalgar Square also seems an appropriate symbol for a day when so many countries and cultures will come together. Speaking of coming together, strangely, only two pigeons appear in the photo when actually there were heaps of them all over the square that day.
Time to suck it up!
Steph’s note: The adventures of travel are unpredictable and Travel Oops is all about celebrating the unexpected results. However, there are some travel oopses that you definitely want to avoid. Here is advice about the Avoidable Travel Oops.
The Avoidable Travel Oops: Offending your hosts because you don’t want to eat the food they offer.
Most travelers have had a dilemma like this: you don’t recognize what is on your plate; it smells like feet; it may even slither or crawl on the plate or it is of a hideous texture that induces immediate gagging. What do you do? Refusing to eat the food, in most cases, is an insult. Telling your host you are full may backfire since you might not get anything else to eat, and let’s be honest, it’s a pretty bogus excuse anyway.
How could France produce the beautiful Eiffel Tower and serve something so atrocious like head cheese?
© Debbie Bacharach
“Well, I know fromage means cheese,” my mom stated as she, my dad, sister and I tried to read a menu at a restaurant in Paris. The menu, understandably, was completely in French. None of us could speak the language, but my mom could recognize some words.
“I’m not sure why it’s listed in the earlier part of the menu. Usually, in France, cheese is served as dessert,” she wondered. Oh, well — whether at the front or the back of the menu, cheese was a great start. How could you go wrong with cheese?
“I’m also not sure what the phrase after fromage means,” my mom added. Our waiter came by and waited patiently as we stumbled through our order. Ultimately, we felt reassured that, at least, cheese would arrive.
By the way, the phrase on the menu after “fromage” was “de tete.” We would find out later the translation was “of head.” We were ordering head cheese. Basically, flesh and other bits from the head of a farm animal set in a jellied mold.
The sunset we almost didn’t see.
© Stephanie Glaser
I knew it would happen. We were in Southeast Asia; it was inevitable. I just didn’t think that our encounter with a squat toilet would take place at Bali’s spectacular Tanah Lot right as the sun moved in for an incredible and blazing appearance.
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