It was on a routine business trip to Los Angeles down Highway 99 that the thought came to me: "You know, of all highways I have ever been on, Highway 99 has got to be the most special of them all. I owe something to this Highway. This was borne... "Ode to Hwy 99" Oh, no, don't expect this to have some sort of formal stanzaic structure. No strophe, antistrophe or epode here. I just wish to write about a highway that has been a part of my life, as long as I can remember. I could not tell you where [View Full Entry]

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Is it written anywhere that all our travel experiences must leave us with that 'warm and fuzzy feeling'? If so, then with this page, I break the rule. Livermore, more specifically, Altamont, marked a turning point in my life. It was here, in December, 1969, that I witnessed an event that would change my life forever. As I look back today, I over corrected. I have since tried to find the right balance. Regardless, our experiences make us what we are, and mine have made me what and who I am, for good or for bad. Altamont, December, 1969 There were [View Full Entry]

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For treasure hunters, a trip to Paris would not be complete without a visit to Le marché aux puces de Saint-Ouen or flea market in Saint Ouen. Take the metro #4 to the Porte de Clingancourt metro station. Open Saturday through Monday, the earlier the better. Then of course, whether or not you buy depends on your freight arrangements. Many freight companies have offices right there. Shop til you drop! [View Full Entry]

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If you appreciate history, DON'T miss S. Denis, if in Il de France. Most underrated place. Site of the Basilica of St. Denis, where the coronation of the queens of France took place (kings were coronated in Reims, but they did not want to travel that far for queens) Also, it's the burial place of the kings and queens of France. Although it was desecrated during the revolution, it was reconstructed and is quite worth a visit. [View Full Entry]

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...There's no place like 'ROME'. In the Travel Section of the bookstores across America you will find umpteen travel essays, I suppose written much the same reason as this one is written. Once a trip is finished, what more can you do than to relive the experience through pictures as well as a travel log of some sort? People write of their experiences, and I of mine. Thus I begin to tell of the trip taken in the month of March, '97 to Italy, having obtained a very cheap fare-war ticket, and having a desperate need to get away. Solitude. As [View Full Entry]

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Hate to say it, but it was a gas watching these guys, dozens of 'em, hawking their goods on the street, carrying it all in a big bundle, setting up, then in a moment's notice, scurrying away, when they saw a cop - guess they are 'unofficial', so they're always on the run... is comical to watch, although I did feel sorry for the poor guys. They're only trying to make a living ! [View Full Entry]

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although you gotta learn to think like a neopolitan (?)... I caught on soon enough, I think. it happened as I was waiting with about 30 other people to cross a street.... the cars were such like a tributary of a river feeding steadily into a larger river. no one dared attempt to cross- so there we all were, sort of paralized, until a man with a pair of rubber boots up to his knees with a pizza box in his hand, nonchanlantly walks out into the street without looking. It was sort of like Jesus walking on the water... then [View Full Entry]

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Restaurant Name: Redondo Beach Pier Coffee Shop I am in the process of getting my money's worth from this experience. I paid around $23.00 for my share of the bill, and I figure if I tell this story 23 times, it will have cost me a buck a pop. This restaurant was the most horrid food I have ever been served. Really, my daughter accepts responsibility for stopping here. It was too late for just simply breakfast, but too early for lunch, but the kids needed SOMETHING. So as we strolled down the pier, she suggested we stop in here for [View Full Entry]

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it was in the early 1890's, my great grandpa must have looked at this scene for the last time in his life, as the ship he, his wife and 8 children were on sailed out of Palermo, never to return. They emigrated to the USA, arriving in the port of New Orleans. Just north of Hammond, across from Lake Poncentrain, in 1892, my grandfather was born. Although this was my 2nd time here, it was my first time arriving by boat. Can't explain why, but of all the places to go in the world, and of all the things to do, [View Full Entry]

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... at least that's what the sign said, but I managed to take a few. Had to. The guy taking the euros for entry looked so ominously kin to these guys ! [View Full Entry]

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