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

Days 6 and 7:  Korcula and Hvar I've had my first accident. I wish I could say that it took place while I was climbing the Croatian version of Mt. Everest (Although there were a couple of times when I thought I was) or that the jagged terrain was too much for my middle aged ankles, but it was nothing like that. While in Korcula, I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and the room was so dark that I stubbed my toe so badly I saw stars--even in the darkness. This less than auspicious injury had its consequences. While I generously supplied Aspercreme to my latest injury (thank God I brought the big bottle!) it and of course, my less than stellar knee, was making it too difficult to become a competing member of the JV team. And so I gave up. Before beginning this trip, I honestly thought I'd be a few steps short of skipping through the entire vacation. (I really did buy into the 1-3 level) On day 4, my hiking inadequacies became crystal clear. I assessed my m

Day 5: Orabic and the Island of Korcula Today's agenda had our group traveling northwest along the coastline to a beautiful town called Orabic. From there, the plan was to begin hiking, stop for lunch at a family-run restaurant with beautiful views of the Adriatic, hike some more and then take a 15 minute boat ride to the Island of Korcula. Needless to say, it sounded like a full day. Last night, our two young guides told us that the bus route along the coast was winding and that we should take precautions if we were inclined to get car/bus sick.  As I am so inclined, I took every measure imaginable not to embarrass myself amongst my new hiking friends.  Or so I thought. I made sure I strategically placed myself at the beginning of the bus line so that I could sit directly behind our guides. I placed my "Sea Bands" perfectly against the pulses located on my wrists. And when one of the guides offered everyone candied ginger, I took a big piece, as I had read that ing

Day 4:  Today was the first day of our five-day hiking trip.  Unfortunately, it began with a bit of marital discord. While we are regular gym enthusiasts, hiking is not something we do regularly, and in fact our hiking boots may have looked a little too new for any of the die-hands we assumed would be on the trip. Because this was a sport we did not participate in with any regularity, my goal was for us both to go "under the radar."  I did not appreciate the full extent of "hiking ware."  Besides the boots and expensive socks, my hiking repertoire consisted of a couple of new workout shirts from Marshall's and some khaki shorts.  Even with my lack of knowledge, I knew--from the pictures of travelers in the brochures--that I would blend in. Apparently my husband had either reviewed different brochures or not looked at them at all because he dressed in an outfit that first didn't match and second appeared to be an ensemble more suitable for golf or a light

Day 3: Dubrovnik In our family, it wouldn't be a vacation without the first day including a walking tour--or two. Our day began with such a tour guided by an incredibly intelligent, articulate young Croatian woman, whose name I found to be unpronounceable. In fact, with this language, the spoken word does not seem to be have all that much in common with what it looks like on paper.  She had us practice a few words--and the diction of the whole lot of us was woefully inadequate. In a short time, I have come to believe that in order to master this, and for that matter, any Slavic language, you have to do a lot of teeth gritting. This is a problem for me, as I have been chastised on multiple occasions by my dentist for my nocturnal dental overuse. I feel thankful that many Dubrovnik citizens have a mastery of the English language. If I had to try speaking Croatian, I can't imagine the chronic headache I would have     because of the constant gritting. I am a firm believer in s

Day 2: Frankfurt Airport Except for the significant crick in my neck thanks to a 7 hour nighttime flight in coach, our flight from Newark to Frankfurt was uneventful. We arrived tired thanks to our less than fitful night's sleep, and were a bit apprehensive about our 6 1/2 layover.  I decided to make the best of it as we stood in our first of several "cues" (We're on this side of the pond, so I'm using the lingo) and decided to people-watch. Two things immediately jumped out at me.  First, there are a lot of women wearing very high heels in an airport that can only be described as "city-like." My Fitbit was going nuts with all the walking we had to do just to get to our first--of many--security lines.  How is it that these women were getting from one point to another on stilts?!? I am in pain when I wear heels and have to walk from my office parking lot into the office, let alone an airport the size of Detroit! Second, what's with all the scarv

Croatia, August 2018 Day 1: Newark Airport My husband Bob and I have decided that we are both ready to tackle a hiking trip in another country. Let's face it, as we are both deeply ensconced in middle age, our window of opportunity on such an adventure is rapidly closing. The preparation for our adventure seemed like nothing out of the ordinary--we bought the requisite L.L. Bean backpack, the hiking boots and several pairs of over-priced socks that were guaranteed not to make our feet sweat. We were completely aligned in all things hiking, except for one thing.....our knees. Truth be told, we have both been under the knife for knees that haven't wanted to keep up with our adventures. And now, it appears that each of us has one knee that we assume will not be happy about our walking the hills and dales across the Dalmatian Coast. Our way of addressing this pre-trip malady however, is quite different.  For the last three months, I have watched every move and every kne