I returned home three days ago from a journey along the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers aboard American Countess, a traditional riverboat sternwheeler with upscale features to rival any ocean-going vessel. With fewer than 250 passengers and more than 90 friendly crew members to cater to every need or request, this was a luxury journey that fostered new friendships and a sense of camaraderie.
Guests were encouraged to submit their personal photographs during the voyage, with winners announced at the end of the week. I was surprised and delighted that my photograph of the American Countess’s iconic twin red paddlewheels was chosen as first-place winner!
River cruising represents slow-paced travel at its best, with new and impressive sights around every bend, abundant food and drink, a slate of charming towns to visit, excursions designed to appeal to diverse interests, and onboard entertainment, music and activities almost non-stop.
I was one of a group of four writers chosen to participate in a press trip on this Bourbon-themed voyage. Not only did the agenda include seven history-rich river cities, but Bourbon expert Michael Veach, a noted authority on the history of this strictly American whiskey, was aboard to present a series of lectures and complimentary bourbon tastings.
This particular voyage boasted a decidedly “good food and spirits” orientation, with multiple options for brewery tours and tastings along the route. American Queen Voyages President Cindy D’Aoust and Vice President of Marketing Angela Composto joined the cruise for the first few days. Special guests were Dickie Brennan, chef-owner of New Orleans’ landmark Bourbon House restaurant, and noted restaurateur and cookbook author Regina Charboneau, who serves as the cruise line’s Culinary Ambassador, and the pair joined up for a cooking demonstration in the boat’s theater one afternoon.
As a Matador Creator, I was privileged to participate in this unique press trip. There are many stories to tell about the distinctive “flavor” of cruising American rivers, especially on a themed cruise like this one, and I will recount some of my experiences in future posts. Also, look for my article on Matador Network in the near future.
What an amazing treat it was, from a pre-cruise stay at The Brown Hotel in Louisville, Kentucky, to disembarkation in Alton, Illinois, just across the Mississippi from St. Louis, followed by quick, efficient bus transfer to the St. Louis Airport.
This post is simply meant to be a visual “teaser.” Visit American Queen Voyages to learn more about various itineraries, or to take advantage of special incentives for future cruise bookings. If you’ve never before considered an American riverboat vacation, I can highly recommend it as an experience you won’t soon forget!
I recently had an opportunity to be on the road alone — partly for pleasure, to be sure, but with a business connection. I had a professional conference to attend in Fairbanks, Alaska. Instead of booking a round-trip flight from my home in Arkansas to the conference city I opted to cruise north to Alaska from Vancouver, British Columbia. I then spent a few days sightseeing near Denali National Park, finally arriving in Fairbanks the evening before my conference began.
After many years of marriage, my husband and I are well aware that our interests, priorities, enthusiasms, and commitments sometimes differ. That’s all good, and on several occasions over the years, we have kissed each other goodbye and wished one another safe travels. It’s just the way we do things. This was one of those times.
I simply could not resist the appeal of a seven-day cruise followed by a three-day land tour to Denali National Park. My husband, for his part, was not ready to embark on another cruise so soon after our epic Antarctic adventure earlier this year. So, for 16 days, my husband and I led separate lives. In addition to a memorable vacation experience, I told myself that this particular journey could be counted as a business trip, providing valuable background for future posts about traveling solo as a senior woman. And, yes, those planned posts are in their early stages as I write this.
The cruise was truly enjoyable, made even better by spending two days in Vancouver to visit with old friends — my own superb tour guides! I found solo cruising to be totally enjoyable, and not at all intimidating. In fact, I look forward to another solo travel experience should an opportunity arise. The land portion of the trip was almost exactly as I expected. Travel arrangements for the land portion of the trip were part of the cruise package, well-planned and executed by Princess Cruise Line. Even though May is the beginning of the season in Alaska, and local staff members were still learning their specific duties, transfers, tours and accommodations were perfectly choreographed.
We disembarked in a grey drizzle in the port city of Whittier and boarded a bus for the trip north to the mountains and the national park, stopping briefly in Anchorage. On the way north, the scenery becomes more dramatic and our driver was happy to point out our first view of Denali in the distance. We passed through small towns, including Wasilla and Talkeetna, and viewed the still-snow-covered terrain and ice-clogged rivers. Originally named for President McKinley in 1897, the name of this largest mountain in North America was changed in 2015 to Denali. In the indigenous language of early tribes in the area, the name means “the tall one,” or “the high one.”
Once we arrived at the Princess Mount McKinley Lodge, a beautiful facility with a “knock-your-socks off” view, I spent my first few hours warmed by the sun on the lodge’s wraparound deck. I was enthralled by the drama of clouds which parted only periodically to provide breathtaking views of the mountain known as “the great one.” It truly is.
I snapped far too many photographs of the changing vista as the late afternoon sun sank lower on the horizon. Denali, at an elevation of 20,310 feet, dwarfs surrounding peaks, but they are not mere foothills, and they have their own allure. Finally, when the clouds seemed to be massing to surround the mountain for the evening, I decided to make my way inside.
I found an unoccupied seat at a bar counter in the casual lounge. My seat still offered a commanding view of the faraway mountain ranges through the great room’s wall-to-wall windows. Tired from a day of traveling, I ordered a glass of wine, content to simply relax in comfortable surroundings.
My attentive server asked if I wanted to order dinner and suggested I begin with a bowl of hot fish chowder. Happy to not have to make a decision, I agreed that would be good. We chatted a bit as I waited.
He had returned to Alaska the previous week to work at this lodge for a second summer. A university student in the lower 48, he said that his experience the previous year hadn’t seemed quite long enough. This year, his girlfriend had signed on for summer work as well.
This was the first of many conversations I would have over the next few days with the summer employees who arrive in Alaska eager for adventure. Must of the seasonal employees are U.S. or Canadian students. All are happy to have the opportunity to earn money working in one of the top vacation destinations on the globe. Many have returned year after year. Most try to save the bulk of their earnings for the coming school year. Not a one complained about the hours or the work load. And every one admitted to seizing every possible opportunity to hike or camp in the adjacent national and state parks or to explore nearby towns and villages. Almost all planned to return to the lower 48 at the end of the summer to continue their schooling.
I listened willingly to the stories of other servers and staff. I joked with the bartender, and I exchanged smiles with other guests. When my chowder arrived, they all gave me “space” to enjoy my light meal. Suddenly hungry, I ate, sipped my wine, and thought how lucky I was to be in this place at that time. But, in that moment, sitting in a crowded bar in the shadow of a great mountain, I also had to admit that I missed my husband. It was an experience I would have enjoyed sharing with him.
In Alaska, in May, it’s light late into the evening and as I finished my chowder, Denali’s snow-covered summit was once again visible. Despite the many previous pictures I had taken, I wanted just a few more in the twilight of the day.
I was eager to make my way out to the deck once again, and I signaled for my check. As we settled up, this young server and I agreed that getting to know one another was a highlight of the evening. As I stood to leave, he looked at me and asked if he could give me a hug. Somewhat taken aback, I hesitated for just a moment.
He confessed, “You remind me of my grandmother, and I miss her.”
Of course we hugged, and I believe we both treasured that brief connection in a place far away. This time, the human connection was more memorable than the food. And this brief encounter with a stranger was at least equal to my last view of Denali on that day.
Uruguay was not on my list of must-visit destinations. In truth, I had not given more than a passing thought to a scheduled port call in Montevideo. The cruise was a South American adventure that included a visit to the Antarctic Peninsula, and it had been in the planning states for three years, since before COVID. I had had plenty of time to research Chile and Argentina — Santiago and Buenos Aires were the beginning and endpoints of the cruise, and my spouse and I planned to spend a few days in each city, in addition to the 16 days we were scheduled to be aboard the Sapphire Princess.
KODAK Digital Still Camera
KODAK Digital Still Camera
But Montevideo had not been in our sights during the planning stages. Actually, I must confess that we had to look up the proper pronunciations of both the country’s name and the city! We knew virtually nothing about Uruguay, and our time in Montevideo would be limited. Although it was tempting to simply spend our shore time at a nearby beach, we booked a half-day excursion for a wine-tasting event at a well-known Bodega not far from the city. That allowed us a couple of hours to explore the city, as well as a glimpse of the nearby countryside.
Our only regret is that we didn’t have ample time to enjoy dinner at Bodega Bouza as well. The winery occupies idyllic grounds only about a 25-minute drive from the heart of the city. We were enthralled by the mix of historic buildings, manicured lawn, healthy vineyards, and resident geese, peacocks, and cats. In addition, there is an old rail car, vintage farm equipment, lush landscaping, and several outbuildings, including an impressive modern dining hall.
Our tour of the vineyard was interesting, and a subsequent visit to the state-of-the-art processing, aging and bottling facility, including a visit to the climate-controlled cellar, was informative and worthwhile.
Bodega Bouza, situated in the northwest section of Montevideo, is surrounded by the five-hectare Melilla Vineyard, and was established by Juan and Elisa Bouza between 1999 and 2001 as a family-owned enterprise. The casual, light-filled tasting room — Bouza Vinos Garage — offers tables and chairs surrounded by the family’s collection of classic vehicles. There are work vehicles, classic motorbikes, and antique automobiles, in addition to highly unusual commercial machinery and delivery wagons. Vintage automotive buffs might enjoy the cars as much as the wine!
Tables in the garage are elegantly set with glasses for sampling one white wine and three red wines. The tasting itself was perfectly choreographed, with an introduction to each variety of wine offered, and tapas were chosen to enhance the flavor of each wine. We were served miniature beef empanadas to accompany the full-bodied specialty red that Bouza is known for. It was a treat to enjoy our wine tasting in such a setting.
We were intrigued by this opportunity to sample wine produced from the Tannat grape, and pleasantly surprised by how much we liked this deep garnet, somewhat “heavy” red wine. Sometimes known as Uruguay’s national grape, most experts believe it originated in the Basque region of France. It was brought to Ecuador in 1870 by a Basque immigrant, and the vines flourished there. Today, this grape accounts for approximately one-third of total Uruguayan wine production. It is often blended with other grapes, Cabernet Sauvignon, for example, Pinot Noir, and others to produce lighter, less intense sipping wines.
Some people find the full-bodied, dry red too acidic for their taste. However, it has attracted new fans who appreciate its earthy flavor, complex fruitiness, and distinctive dark appearance. Interestingly, Tannat grapes have five seeds, compared with only two or three found in other red wine grapes. The additional seeds, when crushed, boost the concentration of antioxidants in the resulting wine. Ongoing research confirms that Tannat wines have significantly higher antioxident properties than other reds. So, If you need excuse to try it, this just might be it!
We needed no excuse to savor this distinctive, dry, dark, fruity wine. We found it to be smooth and exceptionally enjoyable, not that the other varieties we were served weren’t equally delightful! We were offered one white and three reds, each distinctive and served with complimentary small bites. During the course of our tour and tasting, we had an opportunity to meet and talk with participants from Uruguay and from neighboring Argentina and Brazil. As the lone Americans, that proved to be a cultural highlight. So much so that, because we had some time to spare, we shared a bottle of Bouza’s Tannat with another couple, confident that we had a driver who could get us back to our ship on time!
The historic winery that is the heart of Bodega Bouza was built in 1942 by Numa Pesquera. The winery has now been expanded to include a total of five separate vineyards. Tannat and Merlot grapes are grown at all locations, and Bouza has become renowned for its Tannat wines. Because of the family’s Spanish heritage, they were thefirst to introduce Albarino grapes to Uruguay and today they also produce Tempranillo wines. In addition, they produce Merlot and Pinot Noir. Bouza Whites include Albarino, Chardonnay, Semillon, and Riesling.
The other Bouza vineyards are located in Las Violetas, Canelones (the first acquired by the family), and in Maldonado, where their Paz de Azucar and Las Espinas vineyards are located. More recently, Bouza acquired the Canelon Chico vineyard in Canelones, once owned by their winemaker, Eduardo Boido.
We had a wonderful time at Bodega Bouza, and highly recommend this excursion if you find yourself in Montevideo, Uruguay. We would not hesitate to return, but would try to schedule time to include a meal there next time.
Now we are on a quest to find Tannit wine at home here in Arkansas. Hopefully, it will be Bouza!
Points on a compass have little meaning to most people. Schoolchildren learn about the north and south poles, that the earth is tilted on its axis as it travels around the sun, and that the globe is divided into latitude and longitude lines. Most come to know that the equator separates northern and southern hemispheres, and that the latitude lines defining Arctic and Antarctic circles are set at 66 degrees thirty minutes north and south of the equator which is at zero. But it’s a fact long forgotten by most adults. In truth, there’s little reason to know exactly where one is on the globe at any given point in time, unless you have a precise need to navigate to a destination. Airline pilots and ship captains need that knowledge, but casual travelers really do not.
For what it’s worth, however, the coordinates of Hot Springs Village are 34.6720 degrees N, 92.9988 W. It won’t replace a street address, but if you’re interested in little-known facts, make a note! I once was tempted to have the coordinates of the tiny train depot in my favorite little village in Maine printed on a t-shirt, just to see if anyone would ask what the numbers meant. I didn’t.
Ancient mariners noted the crossing of that zero latitude line regularly, and it is an honored tradition still practiced by sailors today. If you have been lucky enough to sail across the equator, you may know about the good-natured and sometimes raucous festivities that mark that passage. Read about the Royal Navy’s Crossing the Line ceremony aboard the aircraft carrier HMS Queen Elizabeth on the ship’s first equator crossing in 2021. I also have a certificate of passage across the equator. It is colorful and ornate, and it is not mine, but it is part of my family history.
The latitude is noted as 0000 — the equator. The longitude is left blank, as are other blanks for the name of the ship, the name of the sailor, and the date and time. On the back, however, is this handwritten note:
Longitude “Secret.” USS Admiral Benson. Destination: “On a Mission of War” Date: “Secret 1945.”
I find it fascinating that some traditions were kept even during wartime. Celebrations take place aboard modern cruise ships, to the delight of most passengers. And crossing the International Date Line can be a bit disorienting. At basically 180 degrees longitude, or half the globe away from Greenwich, England, at Longitude 0, the date line was only designated as such in 1884, to make timekeeping more consistent. The line, which designates the change of calendar dates, sometimes follows a zigzag path around political boundaries, as between eastern Russia and the Aleutian Islands of Alaska. Gaining or losing an entire day in an instant while crossing the International Date Line must be disorienting as well as exciting. Crossing from east to west means that travelers “lose” an entire day! You can gain that day back if you return later to your starting point. That must be disorienting as well as exciting. I don’t know if a certificate exists for that or not!
Some airline pilots will also announce the crossing of the equator, or the time-altering effects of crossing the International date line.
Breaking the Barriers
Tourists can easily venture north of the Arctic Circle on Scandinavian itineraries, whether on land, sea or in the air. Travel to Antarctica typically requires a sea voyage, and is only possible during the height of the southern hemisphere summer. A commemorative certificate is commonly awarded to passengers, denoting the actual southern latitude a vessel reached, but traditions vary. Most visitors to Antarctica do not actually cross into the Antarctic Circle. Most don’t get even to 65 degrees south latitude — the passages are too treacherous for all but sturdy scientific vessels with ice-breaking ability. There are no scheduled flights to the seventh continent from either South America or Australia. Scientists and researchers most often arrive by air at their remote research stations in late spring and depart the same way prior to the onset of the long Antarctic winter.
The earth’s magnetic poles continue to shift slightly, and the imaginary lines that describe the polar regions also vary somewhat. The boundaries of the polar circles are typically noted as 66-33-39 degrees North or South latitude. They are sometimes said to be situated at 66.5 degrees. There are only about 69 miles between degrees of latitude, so the difference is truly miniscule.
When my husband and I cruised along the coast of Norway in 2022, we entered into the Arctic Circle, according to our certificate, at 12:12 a.m. on June 17, at Latitude 66-30.1 N Latitude and Longitude 009-26.3 E. We continued north to Nordkapp, or the North Cape, at 71-10-21, the northernmost point of the European continent, and also to Skarsvag, a Norwegian fishing village with a population of 60, at latitude 71-06-47 N.
Approximately seven months later, we sailed from Ushuaia at the southern tip of Argentina across Drake Passage and along the Antarctic Peninsula, achieving a “most southerly latitude of 64 degrees 58 minutes.” The date and time are not noted on that certificate.
Next month, I will travel along the Dalton Highway, which runs north from just outside of Fairbanks to end at Deadhorse, Alaska, close to the Arctic Ocean. There’s a simple wood sign at about milepost 115 on the roadway, at which vehicles traditionally stop for photos. The sign, depicting the earth as viewed from the North Pole, simply reads “Latitude 66 33”. The 414-mile highway, some of it still only hard-packed gravel, was built to facilitate construction of the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. The pipeline itself stretches for 800 miles, from Prudhoe Bay in the north to Port Valdez, where the oil is loaded onto tankers for shipment to market.
Why do I do these things?
Well, for one reason, like Captain Kirk, I like to go where few other people have been. Secondly, I am especially fond of quirky destinations, and I will go out of my way for the photo ops and the unique experiences they provide. I like to stand at points where the land ends and the sea begins, and imagine what lies beyond. Many of these “furtherest” points fill me with a sense of wonder that past explorers, sailors, and adventurers stepped out into the unknown not knowing where exactly their journeys would take them, when they would end, or if they would ever return.
Just for the fun of it while we were boating in Maine, my husband and I visited Lubec, Maine, the easternmost point of the continental United States. Nearby are the distinctive red and white striped West Quoddy Head Light in Maine, and the historic East Quoddy Head Lightstation which stands at the most northern point of Campobello Island, New Brunswick, Canada. The names confused us until we consulted our navigational chart and realized that they designate opposite sides of Quoddy Narrows, and make perfect sense to local mariners, as they have for nearly two centuries.
We have returned to Key West many times to stand at the southernmost point buoy. Just for reference, latitude and longitude readings there are 24.5465 N, 81.7975 W. The northwesternmost and most western points of the contiguous 48 states are near Cape Flattery on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. Despite living in Washington for many years and boating in the waters around Puget Sound and the peninsula, I have not been there. Maybe someday.
Trips to Gibraltar give us reason to look longingly across the Staight that separates Africa from Europe — a mere eight miles. A trip to Portugal several years ago found us enthralled with the lighthouse at Cabo Sao Vicente, the southwesternmost point of Europe. It is said that it can be seen from 60 miles out to sea. And, yes, I have an ongoing fascination with lighthouses!
It is at these times, as I stand in these faraway places, I realize anew just how vast and beguiling this earth we call home truly is, and just how many places remain for me to discover.
Note: If you’re interested in random facts, have time on your hands that invites mindless armchair exploration, or are in need of trivial conversation starters, visit Wikipedia’s List of extreme points of the United States.
The bottle was not particularly distinctive. I took little note of the winery name and there was no reason to pay attention to the vintage. My husband and I were waiting for friends in the comfortable lobby lounge of our hotel in Santiago, Chile, before venturing out to a nearby casual eatery for dinner.
Our trip, which had begun the morning before in Little Rock, AR, had been long, though exciting, and our arrival in Santiago had not been without an unfortunate attempt at credit card fraud by a cab driver. We had been cautioned, but even advance warnings, unfortunately, do not always protect foreign travelers. (See my related piece about travel precautions.)
However, we had arrived and been welcomed at the charming Hotel Ismael in the vibrant Lastarria District, put the weariness of a long flight, airport lines, and transport frustration behind us, and were planning how to best take advantage of our time in Chile.
A quiet aperitif morphed into a group sampling as we were joined by others in the lobby. I had asked for a glass of a pleasant local red wine, ready to accept what our server chose. My husband ordered a white variety, and we talked about our fresh impressions of the city that we had arrived in only a few hours earlier.
At first sip, I was intrigued by the rich, smooth, deep red of this wine I had never heard of. We quickly learned that the Carmenere is sometimes known as “the lost grape of Bordeaux,” a variety that was nearly destroyed by Phylloxera plague that devastated European vineyards in 1867. It was virtually “extinct” for nearly 100 years. Rediscovered by accident in 1994, the grape had been mistaken for Merlot until a Chilean vintner noticed that some vines took longer to ripen than normal Merlot grapes. Upon investigation, it was determined that they were actually Carmenere, and production in Chile took off.
Our visit to Chile brought us to the heart of the Maipo Valley, not far where the river of the same name flows out of the Andes Mountains. Several of our traveling companions scheduled winery tours during our two days in Santiago. They were captivated by the variety and the quality of local wines produced, the reasonable prices, and the beauty and appeal of the Chilean countryside, seemingly perfectly suited to support a growing winemaking tradition. Participants in one such winery tour brought back a quartet of partially-consumed bottles, which we willingly sampled in the lobby with the blessings of hotel staff.
Today, Chile is home to 90% of the world’s production of Carmenere, and a wide variety of wine is produced along Chile’s sinewy landscape from the far north to the extreme south. Some grapes are exported to other areas, and replantings of Carmenere vines are currently underway in other parts of the world. Wine produced from these grapes may be difficult to find at my home in Arkansas, but the market is growing, and its future is almost assured.
The combination of ripe and spicy fruit flavors, rich texture, soft tannins, and some notes of black or green pepper, herbs and cacao add to its unique character. I must say that is a wine critic’s description; all I can attest to is that I found it very pleasant and I immediately liked it. It is a wine that can hold its own with beef dishes and with vegetables as we learned when we later ordered a bottle with dinner, but we found it an exemplary choice with almonds, walnuts, and raisins — the snacks that appeared in tandem with our glasses that first afternoon in the hotel lobby.
It was a wine I found easy to sip and easy to savor, so much so that we purchased two bottles from the hotel stock to bring aboard our cruise ship when we sailed two days later from Valparaiso. We were pleased as well by the other Chilean and Argentinian wines we sampled in South America. During a port stop in Montevideo, Uruguay, we toured an up-and-coming young vineyard to learn more about production and the demand for fresh, new wines from other regions in South America. The varieties and the vintages are notable and worth sampling.
Sadly, Vines Wine Bar aboard Sapphire Princess had sold out of its stock of Chilean and Argentinian wine halfway through our voyage, proving just how interesting and drinkable these varieties really are! But, one of the onboard activities was a wine tasting that was well attended and highly informative.
Now back home, I will be checking with local wine importers to determine what’s available in my area. I am hoping to find Carmenere, but I will also be on the lookout for other South American wines. My husband and I look forward to sampling some, and we are eager to visit the Argentinian Coffee and Wine Bar in Hot Springs. I can testify that South American wines are a great choice for good times with friends.
They are everywhere, it seems. Sometimes by choice; sometimes by happenstance, often on orders and sometimes unwillingly. Americans travel the globe. Occasionally, they’re “ugly.” Almost always, when Americans “discover” a place, it is changed. And many would argue that change, though inevitable, is less than desirable.
There are other nationalities that also travel the globe; many of them English-speaking — Brits, Canadians, Australians. But there are French-speakers, Spanish-speakers, Scandinavians, Asians, and Africans. In fact, today, all nationalities travel extensively. Most travel rather inconspicuously. Americans tend to stand out and are occasionally the brunt of jokes and the subject of pervasive and less-than-flattering stereotypes.
But, there’s something about Americans.
On Christmas Day morning, on a beach in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco, Mexico, a group of Americans gathers to hang stuffed animals, matchbox cars, soccer balls, footballs, Barbie dolls, and an assortment of other toys from the palapas and beach umbrellas of a local hotel. They wear Santa hats, blinking reindeer noses and silly, floppy reindeer antlers, candy cane shirts, and an assortment of other red and green attire with their swimsuits and shorts.
The beach chairs and lounges are circled to keep the public at a distance. No one really seems to be in charge. At 8:30 am on Christmas Day, it is quiet on the beach. And then more people arrive, some with armloads of stuffed animals, some with plastic bags from the Walmart on the other side of the Mexican city. Some come with one or two toys. Many dropped off their “goodies” earlier in the week. Word spread about the event, and the crowd steadily grew larger.
Volunteers bring ribbons and scissors. There is a festive spirit. Onlookers gather.
Soon, a group of children begin to form a line, off to one side. Quiet, and well-behaved, they stand with their parents and older siblings. They watch. They wait.
This ritual began more than 20 years ago. On Christmas Day 2004, I was on that beach that Christmas Day. A woman named Marge from Nashville, TN, one of the original group of Santa’s helpers, asked volunteers to walk down the beach to find more children. “This is the best year ever,” she said, “and I’m not sure we have enough children for all the gifts.”
There is no publicity. This is not an organized effort. There is no tax deduction attached to these gifts. There were lots of pictures taken. There are big smiles on the faces of the adults. The children look on with wide-eyed wonder. There are tears. There are hugs. There is a sense of excitement. There are cookies and soft drinks and music on a beach in Puerto Vallarta on Christmas Day. And there is a sense of community.
Even though most of the children speak no English, and most of the adults speak little Spanish, there is no language barrier.
One man with a distinctively British accent and a camera pauses to ask what is happening. When it is explained, he makes no comment. But he remains to take pictures, staying on the fringes but joining in the palpable spirit of goodwill.
At precisely 11 am, four Mexican children are allowed to enter the “garden” of hanging toys, each one accompanied by an adult American volunteer with a small pair of scissors. As each child walks through, he is allowed to take his time to look, and then his selection is snipped from its ribbon hanger and handed to him. It is almost silent. There is no screaming, no running. There is a sense of reverence as the child clutches his selection to his chest and then is escorted to the other edge of the toy-filled enclosure.
Children of hotel employees, youngsters whose parents are beach vendors, and children who have come to the beach for a day near the water and the sun with their extended families are the honored guests. They are all Mexican children. That is the only requirement.
It is not their tradition. Christmas, in Mexico, is a deeply religious holiday, with a family-oriented emphasis. Santa Claus does not visit most Mexican children.
But where there are Americans, there are some traditions that are hard to break. In the United States, there are toys for children. So, where Americans gather at Christmas, there will invariably be toys.
There is something about Americans.
Note: I first wrote this nearly two decades ago for an online publication that no longer exists. I was thinking today about that long ago Christmas on the beach, and it seemed appropriate to repost this piece this year, at a time when the world seems to need a large dose of goodness and cheer. I don’t know if the tradition continues in Puerto Vallarta. I hope it does. But, whether the beach party is still held or not, it is a wonderful memory. I wish Happy Holidays to all, no matter what holidays you celebrate or where you celebrate them. And may 2023 be a good year for us all!
I must confess that the 1962 red Corvette convertible I once owned spawned dreams of taking the ultimate Route 66 road trip. The car didn’t come into my life until years after the TV show ended, but both were classics. And, as they say, old dreams die hard. Sadly, that car and I shared memorable times on other highways and byways, but the cruise along Route 66 never happened. The Corvette was a part of my automotive “stable” for about 15 years, and I fondly remember that first sports car.
I later learned, to my disappointment, that the car used in the television show wasn’t even red. Even so, it was easy to fall into the rhythm and excitement of traveling along the Mother Road, on a press trip in September with fellow travel journalists.
Route 66 was just about 2,450 miles long. It began in Chicago and meandered through eight states on its way to Los Angeles. Only 13 miles were in Kansas, but much of the original Kansas highway remains. What was America’s “first superhighway” opened in 1926 between Illinois and California, and it became a primary “escape route” for those who fled middle America during the Dust Bowl days. It was, at the same time, a symbol of opportunity and the sign of a country that changed rapidly following the war years.
The Way It Was
One can still drive across the last survivingMarsh Bridge over Brush Creek, one of three concrete and steel rainbow bridges that once traversed Kansas creeks along Route 66. The bridge now is on a loop road off the thoroughfare, and it’s a favorite destination for photos, picnics, and an occasional wedding. The Route was officially “decommissioned” only in 1985, and it is no longer the highway of choice for modern travelers, other than those who are seduced by its history and its television fame.
Kansas, at least this portion of it, hasn’t changed much visibly over the past several decades, but its people have. Modern highways move vehicles and people faster and more efficiently, but traveling the short stretch of Route 66 is definitely more fun! It’s clear that this section of the historic highway still does what it was designed to do — it “connects the main streets of rural and urban America.” The best part? There are ample opportunities to pull off the road and explore Kansas communities!
Nostalgic reminders of a very different past are evident along the way. History comes alive when the Route 66 signs appear.
Nelson’s Old Riverton Store has been in continuous operation since 1925. Today, it looks much as it did then, and operates similarly, welcoming locals and tourists alike. It’s worth a visit – try a beet-juice pickled egg or purchase kitchy Route 66 magnets, ball caps, license plates and t-shirts. Why? Just because!
Locals still come to buy a loaf of bread or a can of beans, grab a soda and a sandwich, or just while away the time with friends. It’s that kind of place. It appears to be decades ago that any repairs were made to the building. Wildflowers grow up along the fence line and hanging baskets add color to the scene. Shopkeepers are welcoming and only too willing to share stories with visitors. It’s like stepping back in time.
It’s impossible to escape the influence of the Route in this part of Kansas.
Cars on the Route
Fans of Disney’s “Cars” are in for a treat at Cars on the Route in Galena. Visit the old Kan-O-Tex station and get up close to the rusty boom truck that was the inspiration for Tow Mater in the movie.
Walk down a dusty stretch of road and around a corner to enjoy a sack lunch at rustic picnic tables in the shade of a ramshackle lean-to. Snap some shots of the quirky old photo boards before moving on.
Other attractions in Galena include outdoor art and murals, a Texaco station turned curio shop on Main Street, complete with pumps set to recall the low gas prices of the time. There’s also a rusty old “jail” near the city’s square that provides an irresistible photo op!
We broke for lunch at Bricks & Brews in Baxter Springs, and what a treat that was, with a menu to satisfy any palate and attentive service accompanied by big smiles. We also stopped for an all-too-brief visit at the Baxter Springs Heritage Center and Museum. We had only limited time to spend, but it is a treasure trove of information about the town, the history of Cherokee County and southeast Kansas, the Civil War, and Route 66.
Nature and More
We pushed on to the Southeast Kansas Nature Center/Schermerhorn Park, near Galena. Admission is free, and the hilltop site acts like a magnet for anyone interested in visiting the 32-acre Shoal Creek Wildlife Area. There are wooded hills, streams, and caves to explore; dedicated anglers can even drop lines along a ¼-mile stretch of the creek. Indoor exhibits include live snakes, exploration drawers, plant, animal, and history exhibits, educational films, and the attention of a knowledgeable curator/guide. A bonus was a squirrel that visited the feeding station just outside the one-way glass!
Add in a visit to Big Brutus, standing tall and proud at an old coal mining site on the Kansas prairie, and we were ready to sample Kansas comfort food — fried chicken with all the fixins at not one, but two, local restaurants with long histories in Pittsburg, Kansas.
I’ll fill you in on the food — and there was lots of it — next time. Our group sampled both downhome dishes — some with a new twist — and culinary delights for sophisticated palates.
Planning a road trip to this part of Kansas from the neighboring states of Missouri, Oklahoma, and Arkansas, or from farther afield, is easy. It seems appropriate to leave the Interstates behind and enjoy the miles of farmland punctuated by picture-postcard views of old barns, fields filled with growing crops that stretch towards the sun, and animals lazily passing the time doing what farm animals do. The route stretches on with gentle curves; small towns are not far apart and each promises a unique and unusual experience.
Be sure to request your Kansas map and state travel guides in advance of a road trip to Kansas. Knowing where you’re going and what there is to see makes a driving trip so much better!
Full Disclosure: This trip was sponsored by Kansas Tourism, and the itinerary was prearranged. But the impressions are mine alone. I want to return, and it’s an easy road trip from my home base in Arkansas. I’ll be writing more about Kansas as well as about other travel to new destinations abroad in 2023. Subscribe to my blog here, or follow me on Facebook and Instagram.
The Lowell Milken Center for Unsung Heroes occupies one of the newer buildings in Fort Scott, Kansas, situated across the street from its original location. Several century-old historic buildings in downtown Fort Scott, Kansas, were destroyed by fire in 2005 and have since been rebuilt. An adjacent outdoor park opened earlier this year and is a contemporary urban delight. The downtown still retains its former character, with traditional brick buildings and brick-paved streets, but the city’s history is being written with renewed vigor.
Stories told at the Center are larger than life, brought to life in a way that is truly remarkable. The history of the Milken Center is as awe-inspiring as the lives of the featured heroes. Visitors are introduced to real people who lived seemingly ordinary lives, playing largely unknown and unrecognized roles in history. Their stories have been uncovered, researched, and retold by students, through art and drama, photographs and videos, essays and interactive displays. Their truths are as thought-provoking as they are disturbing. The history of the Milken Center is as awe-inspiring as the lives of the featured heroes.
In 1999, Norm Conard was a social studies teacher at Uniontown High School in rural Kansas. He had given his class a History Day assignment. One of his student teams learned of Irena Sendler, a Polish Catholic social worker who was instrumental in rescuing children from the Warsaw Ghetto during World War II. She buried the names of rescued children in milk jars hidden under a tree. It was, and still is, quite a story. Read a more detailed account here. The students found that Sendler was alive and living still in Poland. In 2001, Conard accompanied a group of students to Poland to meet with her. Several other trips followed, until she passed away in 2007. The student-written play about her deeds, “Life in a Jar,” has been performed more than 350 times, and it continues to be be staged in the U.S and Europe.
During his tenure at Uniontown High School, Conard’s students created more than 85 projects, telling the stories of other common people who performed uncommon acts. Those stories are now the focus and backbone of the Center for Unsung Heroes. New heroes continue to be identified by groups of students — from fourth grade through high school — who have been inspired to dig deep into history and to move far beyond the obvious.
Today, Norm Conard serves as chief executive officer of the Center and is also the director of the Life in a Jar Foundation. It was, after all, his classroom motto for the History Day project in 1999 that gave birth to the idea. That motto? “He who changes one person, changes the world entire.” The Lowell Milken Center was founded with the goal of creating ripples of influence that will engage even more educators and students in an effort to change the world. Megan Felt, one of the students who first identified Irena Sendler, is the center’s program director.
Plan to spend longer than you may originally intend at the Milken Center. It is no ordinary museum. It’s a place to discover the true meaning of heroes in a time when that word is often overused. It’s mesmerizing and unforgettable.
But the Milken Center isn’t the only reason to visit Fort Scott.
Before Kansas was even a territory, Fort Scott was a military outpost. It was established on the frontier in 1842 but the Army abandoned the garrison in 1853. The city was chartered in 1860, one year before Kansas became a state. Today, it’s the only such town to survive. Its military cemetery, one of 12 originally designated by President Abraham Lincoln, is listed as U.S. National Cemetery #1.
Our group spent that first night in Kansas at the Courtland Hotel and Day Spa. Situated in a building that dates to 1906, it was once a bustling laundry with a boarding house on its upper level. Proprietor Frank Adamson, a Fort Scott native, is only too happy
to offer insights into city history! He and his wife, a massage therapist, purchased the building as a location for her to open a day spa. They remodeled a portion of the main floor for the spa, with refurbished guest rooms on the second floor. Today, each room in the hotel is distinctive, filled with antiques and period decor to complement the architecture and honor the building’s history. A main floor lobby, office area and dining room retain the period charm of the past, and serve as a gathering spot where Adamson regales guests with stories of Fort Scott’s past.
A center of pre-Civil War turmoil between slavery proponents in nearby Missouri and local anti-slavery forces, this part of of the state was known as “Bleeding Kansas” until the end of the Civil War, even though Kansas entered the union as a free state in late January 1861, before the war began. As the U.S. Army’s district Headquarters, Fort Scott was a quartermaster supply depot, training center, and recruitment station.
At one time, it was a noted frontier city, one of the largest in eastern Kansas, and it rivaled Kansas City as a railroad center. All that now remains of that time is the original, restored Old Fort building, now relocated to the town square. But the stories that date to those times are fascinating, and visiting Fort Scott is like stepping back in time to a simpler era. Brick-paved streets, sturdy brick buildings, and stately period lamp posts reflect its history, but its people have their sights set on the future, and they’re doing their best to integrate the two.
We left Fort Scott and headed for Route 66 — The Mother Road. Only 13 miles of the unique highway traversed a corner of the state, but it’s impossible to escape the influence of the Route in this part of Kansas. Come along next Wednesday as we recreate a legendary road trip. We had great fun along the way and discovered more unique attractions in Southeast Kansas!
Good Food and Faraway Places 