Planes, Trains and Orthotics: A Middle-Age Woman's Guide to Travel

 Yesterday, we arrived at the ship but we have yet to take off, in order for us to enjoy the city of Lyon, the foodie capital of France. (As if we need more reason to eat). There are only 104 people on the ship, giving it an intimate feel and making it easier for a person like me to chit-chat at least once with almost everyone! This morning Bob and I went on a walking tour of this fascinating city.  While I knew a lot about Lyon’s pivotal role in the French Resistance thanks to the many, many historical fiction novels I have read about World War II and again, thanks to what I now realize was an excellent World History teacher I had in 9th grade. I did not know that it was the silk capital for hundreds of years and that the first organized labor attempts took place in Lyon.  I also had no idea just how hilly the city is and along with its streets and streets of cobblestones, the ibuprofen will no doubt be making a guest appearance later. When visiting another country, I tr...

 First, thanks to all from far and wide, who reached out to see whether or not I was able to get on the plane due to a one-letter misspelling of my middle name.  This time, the “I” did not have it! To be honest, fixing my ticket took less than a minute—it was waiting on the line with the people in front of me who clearly had bigger issues than one rogue letter.  It’s a good thing that we were at the airport 3 1/2 hours before the flight—just in case.  I was ensured that the problem was fixed for our return flight which means I will start to worry the day before we leave for home instead of two or three days before.  While the majority of this vacation will be spent on the wine cruise, our tour operator, AMA Waterways included three days before the cruise in Geneva, Switzerland. Neither my sister, brother-in-law nor I had ever been to this city, the second largest in Switzerland. Bob had been here once for business, but since arriving yesterday, he said nothing l...

 I usually begin the first blog of one of my journeys focused on providing a recent medical update, usually regarding the travails of my aging feet and/or sore knees and/or what I have packed to ensure that I am taking advantage of the ever-narrowing “window of opportunity” to not dress like an old lady while traveling.  The initial focus of this blog is a little different. The good news is that in two days, my husband, Bob and I are leaving for a wine cruise with my sister and brother-in-law up the Saone River in southeastern France. (No, it’s not a “Viking” cruise for all of my fellow PBS fans, but one of its competitors). The bad news is that up until Wednesday, we weren’t sure we would be able to go because Bob has been quite sick for nearly a month.  In describing Bob’s medical problem, I will do my best not to completely violate the “Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996,” or HIPAA. Bob feels I don’t take this law seriously because since becomi...

 The second half of our time on Ireland’s West Coast included a little bit of hiking and a whole lot of support for the Irish economy.  So many things are much cheaper here and while I admit that I made several purchases, my sister’s carry-on bag was not going to make the cut in getting all her bargains home.Thank goodness I brought with me the mother of all suitcases, which earlier this morning took two of us to lift it into the “boot” (aka in America as  “the trunk”). I had plenty of space to pack two woolen blankets she purchased and still have room for my various new items. In our defense, the bargains were too good to walk away from. The real fireworks took place on the last day of our West Coast adventure when the entire country of Ireland—but particularly the West Coast—was pummeled by a storm described as the worst in Irish history. The night before, during our book group—and while we still had electricity—the wind began to kick-up.  Our guests went home afte...

 We have been doing a lot of walking, hiking and laughing since arriving on the West Coast of Ireland.  We have also eaten a whole lot of soup, since January on the Emerald Isle would never be considered balmy.  I have written before about the heartiness of the Irish people and the evidence continues to mount to support that premise.  For example, there are far too Irish citizens wearing shorts for this time of the year and restaurant bathrooms continue to lack any form of heating, thus increasing the chances of frostbite for the brief time your skin is exposed when doing the business of why you came into the bathroom in the first place.   Since our arrival, the temperature highs each day have been in the low 40s, but that’s very different than what we experience on the East Coast of the United States. It’s an island so it’s always damp and almost there’s almost always a wind blowing. When we take walks, we are dressed with sweaters, winter coats, scarves, hats ...

  I wouldn’t describe the airplane trip from Newark to Dublin as “hell on earth,” but it was pretty close.  I don’t want to whine, but I am just too old to be a sardine for nearly seven hours.  Just getting out of my seat was painful on my already painful knee, due to how cramped things were.  My fellow seat mates were frequent toilet-needers, requiring me, in the aisle seat, to frequently leave my seat, much to the chagrin of my right knee.   Besides the sardine-like conditions, sleep alluded me thanks to the Olympic-like snorer sitting in front of me. I tried everything, including foolishly putting in my air-buds and listening to my Rain app.  I find this white-noise very calming and thought it would work—until I turned my head and lost my left air-bud.  The plane was pitch-black and I needed to use my phone light to try to find the missing bud.  I couldn’t find it and in my attempt to search, I needed to remove the things on my lap, including t...