In an idle chat with two friends last winter, I discovered that none of us had been to Belgium. That surprised us as we were all well traveled in Europe and the other two had been born and raised there. We made the decision to visit Belgium together in the spring. We particularly wanted to see the old Flemish cities, Bruges, Ghent and Antwerp. We parted with promises that each would research possible itineraries.
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[First in a two-part series on hiking Spain's Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trail]

The little train to St. Jean, after the TGV from Paris to Bayonne, passed through beautiful, alpine like country with tiny towns of meticulously tended stucco houses reminiscent of Swiss chalets. A rushing river offered rafting and all was green. It was to be a trip that would have many meanings: spiritual and sentimental closure, rites of passage, mother and daughter bonding, and physical challenges.
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[Second in a two-part series on hiking Spain's Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage trail]

Non-stop rain dictated our next moves, so the intrepid mother and daughters decided to take the train all the way to Leon, bypassing much of the flat central plains of northern Spain. We were now in the bailiwick of the legendary Isabella of Castille and Ferdinand of Aragon.
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Over the centuries, Deia has drawn artists, writers, composers, Moors and sundry other invaders, and had everything we wanted. In the village - or nearby - we found wonderful restaurants, amazing hiking trails that offered sublime views or off-the-beaten track antiquities, and quaint, cobbled village squares ideal for people watching. Our favorite pastime was wandering from the village, down the old donkey trail, to the secluded, pebble-strewn cove along the coast. The trip would have been perfect had we never strayed far from Deia, but one day, on a lark, we decided to see more of the island.
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The splendid Chateau de Vaux le Vicomte lies at the heart of French Brie, a pastoral countryside of vast arable fields. Commissioned by Nicolas Fouquet, the Chateau tells a story of greed, ambition, extravagance, social aspirations, royal power and imprisonment.
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All weddings mean to include magic and romance. Plan one in Venice, Italy and just imagine what might ensue. A dear friend and her fiancé live in Sussex outside of London; both are architects and planners and have worked and traveled all over the world. When Steven jubilantly convinced Despina to marry him, her Greek family and friends in Athens were ecstatic. When friends from all over the world heard the news, all were delighted and created the demand for a serious celebration.
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Torches flicker in the dark street and candles glow on the float. I can almost touch some of the kneeling men beneath their burden. Their faces dripping with sweat, they rise as the drums begin again. It is the night of Holy Thursday in Popayán, Colombia.
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From the end of the 15th century till the start of the 17th, Poland enjoyed world-class status. Its empire stretched from the Baltic almost down to the Black Sea: it produced timber, rye, salt, coal, and other coveted exports. My paternal grandparents hailed from a small Polish town near Russia called Machover. And my husband's paternal grandparents came from somewhere in Silesia. So he and I were doubly excited to finally visit Poland.
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Throughout our two-week stay in Russia, we rode the rails in style between Moscow, Helsinki and St. Petersburg. My daughter and I talked long past midnight in a petite compartment just for two as the overnight train from Moscow cut its way through the inky Russian night.
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Wandering Helsinki's streets during White Nights is a dreamy pleasure. In this part of the world in midsummer, the sun doesn't wane until the early morning hours. At about 4a.m., the sun announces itself again with the determination of a Finn, knowing that once fall and winter set in the days will be unbearably short. Finland is not on most Americans' short list of travel destinations. It should be.
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