Over the years it has not been unusual to meet someone in my travels and be invited to their home for a short stay. I have reciprocated such kindnesses as well. For many people, inviting a stranger into their home does not come readily but to this date I have not regretted a single invitation either way.

Some years ago a bonafide site, Couchsurfing , was created; it brings people together from 100+ countries and is primarily a means to exchange a cultural encounter with a place to stay. The guest might offer a gift, a helping hand, or just some tales of their travels. It is defined by those who take part, but the exchange of money is not encouraged.

My curiosity was piqued when a couple offered to share their means of transportation, over the course of several days, in Mongolia for free. When I wished to help with the costs, they declined. “We are hosts of couchsurfers in Germany, you’ll be our couchsurfer here, while on the road.” I was very grateful and was sure to show my appreciation by cooking them breakfast, treating them to dinner and sending them a gift once I got home.

They had spoken highly of their hosting experiences so I decided to give it a try.  I received numerous responses (no surprise with all the people coming to NYC)  but for now, I have hosted only three; a woman from France, another from Hungary, and a man from Denmark. The experience was overall a positive one. I took delightful walks with two and chatted over something to eat with the third, but it was time consuming to respond to all the requests and organize the visits. Thus, I have already decided to take a break, but will consider it again. I enjoy the idea of meeting travelers while I am home and offering hospitality that has been shown to me.

If you are curious, check out the website.There are many ways to get involved. Apparently the original concept of platonic encounters, in certain instances, has been redefined, but profiles are required and it shouldn’t take too much effort to read between any lines. And don’t be put off by the sensationalized articles you are likely to find with a Google search. Once again the media  emphasizes the negative, but I found endless positive reports from couchsurfers as well. Like anything else use good judgement and common sense.

Perhaps you will say yes to hosting or participating in one of the ongoing Couchsurfing events.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement

I was reminded recently of an incident, many years ago, while visiting Copenhagen. I was only there for a few days and uncharacteristically failed to learn some basic expressions. The area I stayed in was largely populated by immigrants. I entered a small shop and asked in English, for whatever I was looking for. The response was unexpected. The shopkeeper spoke to me, in Danish, clearly annoyed. I had no idea what he was saying but he was definitely not pleased with me. I continued in English with some effort to understand what I had done wrong and only then did his demeanor change. It was evident that I was a tourist and was using the only language I had at hand. I came to understand that he had assumed that I was a Dane but speaking English thinking that he, as an immigrant, did not speak the language of the land. His protest had been to insure me that he spoke Danish as well as any native.

Somehow I forgot that moment while back here in NY. Sometime later I began speaking Spanish with a shopkeeper in a largely Latino community and saw a familiar displeasure as he answered me in English.

Now if I wish to speak Spanish with native speakers, I begin by explaining my desire to learn more and ask if I can practice.  The reaction is often one of delight and encouragement as they patiently share their knowledge and tell me how well I am speaking, even while I am fairly certain of the mistakes I have made.

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I am back home from Niagara Falls (for those who may have missed the previous posts), and now happily reflect upon my adventure.

The weather gods shone upon me the entire time, which made a road trip, sightseeing and camping a pleasure. The change of foliage was barely evident upon my departure and within one week evolved into a glorious spectacle, particularly in Pennsylvania, upon my return. I now await the local colors here to change.

My decision not to use a GPS was the right one. I enjoyed relying on paper maps, common sense and the kindness of strangers. Yes, I made a few wrong turns, at least one with a serendipitous result, but generally the roads were well marked and easy to navigate.

The State Parks of Chimney Bluffs, Fair Haven, Hamlin Beach impressed me with their diverse splendor: lake shore, forest, hiking trails, striking natural formations and even a craft fair. The staff, in good cheer, were knowledgeable and helpful.  One woman kindly spent considerable time picking out the best bundle of wood for my campfire and rummaging up the requisite newspaper and matches. (It’s true. I was not well prepared.) Camping was great. The grounds were spotless and, at least in my experience, the other guests were quiet and considerate.

I did not plan my lodgings in advance which only became somewhat stressful when I arrived in Ontario, near the Falls, and was offered a room for $360/night with no view. The other hotels nearby and more reasonable priced were completely full. But after I was advised to go a mile or two down Lundy’s Lane, I found a clean mom and pop motel for $74 with continental breakfast included.

And the magnificent Niagara Falls were all I could have hoped for. They left me in awe.

There were numerous encounters. Sometimes it was only a moment when asked to take someone’s photo; sometimes it was an exchange of travel tales. I chatted at length with a couple from France who had traveled from Vancouver and had spent the last two months making their way east. There was never a shortage of exchanges, when desired.

Admittedly, traveling for a week in a rented car from NYC is not inexpensive. Even while keeping my costs down: reasonably priced hotels, camping and a hostel, eating well but not in high end places, the fuel, tourist sites, food and lodging equalled more than a month of travel in Mongolia, but it is unfair to compare.

Once again I have  encountered the benevolence of others(the shopkeepers, fellow drivers, who directed my way, travelers and residents alike), seen spectacular sights, and reveled in the joys of travel.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

The Seaway Trail follows along the southern coast of Lake Ontario, but the acres and acres of orchards provide me with the vistas for quite sometime-more than the sea. The harvest necessitates incessant activity by the pickers, packers and road stand vendors as the trees bulging downward are eased of their fruit. Eating an apple reminds me of its incomparable taste when picked that day.

I meet Dorothy, who works at a State Park store. She keeps extra change on hand so no kids, even those lacking funds, need leave her shop empty-handed.

There is another night in my tent, further along and by the shore, with a campfire to compete with the stars.

Crossing into Canada, I arrive at my destination, Niagara Falls! Quickly I don a flimsy plastic poncho with the other tourists as we attempt to encounter this astounding force aboard the sturdy ship.

All that I heard and the pictures I have seen could not have prepared me for the overwhelming majesty and beauty. The Niagara Falls are sublime.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

Americans love their cars and highways.

If I ask directions, the locals guide me to the nearest highway, even while gently nudging along the idea that I would prefer the two lane roads. Only once did I receive an empathetic response by a shop owner who said, “Everyone’s in a hurry these days.” As a result the backroads are nearly empty which makes for smooth travel and with stretches of 50 mph speed limits the pace is surprisingly none too slow.  But most importantly the corn fields, silos, hay stacks, cows, horses, tractors and farms are welcome indications that the ways of old live on.

My first stop outside of Brooklyn was Roscoe, proudly hailing the title, “Trout fishing capitol of the USA.” Some folks tending shops here seem to have time to shoot the breeze. One woman spoke of Margot’s experiences camping in the area as if we were all old friends. It took me some time before I realized that Margot was this kind woman’s daughter.

Binghamton was quiet for city standards, but the Lost Dog Cafe, whose owners started in the East Village of Manhattan was bustling and a friendly spot for a good meal.

An incorrect turn prompted a visit in Cortland to the 1890 House Museum. An exquisitely designed and decorated mansion of Chester Wickwire who made his fortune in of all things, wire. The stain glass, craftsmanship and furnishings were magnificent and emblematic of a wealth and style of that era. The volunteer guide showed me an unusual item. It was a  framed intricately woven wreath of flowers made from human hair: a popular pastime in its day.

Passing through Syracuse then up to Oswego, I camped on the shores of Lake Ontario. The weather has been glorious and the leaves are in various stages of displaying their flaming transformations.

The road awaits me.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

Happy Autumn!

Few images are more iconic than the open road.

One of the grand and simple pleasures this country has to offer is a road trip-and so I am off to see, for the first time, Niagara Falls.

I will be leaving New York City in a rented car (It won’t be anything as classic as the one pictured here-a pristine 1971 Le Mans Sport which according to the loving owner has retained its original condition.), and seeking a route where lakes, agricultural plains, small towns and cities will be my inspiration.

My quest is to experience Americana: to discover local history, cuisine,  geography and culture while welcoming conversations with others who live on this land.

I will do my best to keep you posted while I’m on the road.

Best wishes for those celebrating, on Wednesday, the new year 5775!

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Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

Traveling in countries where I do not speak the language offers certain challenges, particularly when finding something to eat. But with street food, quantity and cost can be conveyed with fingers and the ingredients are usually self evident. Ease, however is not the main appeal. Primarily, it is a means of being part of the local culture and daily life. The people preparing and eating the food are almost always locals. I have spent countless, pleasurable moments sitting on stools, a curb, perhaps at a tiny table or just standing while eating something fresh and usually made to order.

The sellers may offer just a few items, sometimes only one, so it is often his or her speciality. You can almost be certain it is going to be good.

One of my fondest memories lingers from Thailand, many years ago. On two or three occasions I ordered Som Tum, the green papaya salad, from the same seller; his cart was just large enough to hold the few ingredients in a small display case. I would say “Som Tum” with a smile and he would get to work, slicing, cutting, mixing, preparing and then the moment came. He would hold up a very hot chili pepper as his way of enquiring how many I wanted. The cuisine there can be notoriously spicy. The locals might ask for four or more, but I would timidly raise a single figure to indicate only one. I suspect he already knew my answer, but each time he chuckled kindly as he put the finishing touches in place.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

Mongolia has a long standing tradition of hospitality; food and lodging is offered to anyone, free of charge. Nomadic cultures necessitate it for survival. Some gift, when possible, might be offered in exchange.

Khovsgol Lake is a popular vacation destination (by Mongolian standards) in the north. I found a ride to one of its shores dotted with tourist camps, which I had hoped to avoid.

Walking further up the coast, accommodations became rare so I was relieved and delighted to meet a couple who sold fish and offered me a private “guest ger”. They provided me with wood for the stove, a thermos of hot water to make tea, a jerrycan of water for washing, sheets and blankets; all I would need for a comfortable stay. They asked for 10,000 tugrik (about$6/night). A delicious lunch of fish, potatoes, onions and salad was prepared for a small additional fee. It was a quiet and beautiful location. Our communication was limited to the three or four common words we shared but their kindness was evident.

Taking a walk some distance from my ger, I noticed a few yaks, two horses and as I neared, an older man cradling a baby.  An older woman soon joined him.  I continued my approach, smiled, greeted them with a hello and was quickly ushered in to sit on the hard seat/bed in their sparsely furnished ger. Without hesitation the woman offered me tea, a large slab of fresh baked bread and two bowls. One contained delectable, mild, yak butter and the other was soon filled with freshly made yogurt. I savored each sip and bite and had to gently refuse her additional helpings. There was an ease between us and somehow we made our inquiries understood.

We lingered awhile longer. Soon after, with a thank you, I headed back to my ger returning a short time later with some small gifts: a writing pad, pen and soap. She received them with delight. I said goodbye and while I was walking away she called, hurried towards me and placed two smoked fish (a regional delicacy) in a bag for me to take on my way.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.

Downtown Medellin, Colombia is where you will find the Botero Plaza with those wonderful eponymous, enormous statues, a major tourist attraction during the day. But in the evening the streets return to the locals.

My hostel, however, was only two blocks away so I took this opportunity to walk around. I was the only foreigner in sight.

The atmosphere was lively.  Just beyond the plaza there were street vendors hawking fruits, vegetables, clothing, toys, and household goods  along  a pedestrian mall with shops on each side. The residents were bargaining and strolling: families, couples, teens.

I was thirsty and bought a papaya drink. It was quite large, too large,  and with the cup -half empty- I threw it in a trash can.

Within seconds, the drink was snatched up by a thin young man who clearly lived on the streets. The color of his clothing was indistinguishable from the color of his skin.  Dirt was so deeply embedded into both.

He quickly took a sip from this cup -half full- said one word, “papaya”, gave me the biggest smile and, cup in hand, continued on his way.

A number of years ago, I read of an acclaimed restaurant located a couple of hours from where I was visiting. I saw it as an opportunity to eat some delicious food, discover the countryside of Portugal and go by rail, my favorite means of travel.

The passage was pleasant. I arrived and found the restaurant, meters from the train station, perched on a hill with a verdant valley below. It was the only place in “town” to eat.  I could see a few homes a little ways off and not much else.

The staff was gracious and the view was splendid. I enjoyed my lunch, although I can not recall what it was. Afterwards I attempted a stroll, but the very steep terrain made it difficult to explore. After another hour of admiring the vista, I thought, “Ok, that was pleasant, time to head back.”

The schedule, something I had not bothered to look at beforehand,  indicated that the return train would arrive in six hours!

Six more hours here?!

I noticed a small cafe on the other side of the tracks,but it was closed. The area was as quiet as one might suspect during siesta hours. Fortunately it had a few outdoor tables on a shaded terrace.

I always travel with at least two books; one to read and one to write in. I had brought both. I settled in for a long wait…. But was soon distracted. Birds alighted beside me on grapevines heavy with fruit. Butterflies were too shy to linger but entertained me with their erratic flight. The proprietário, after an hour or so, opened the doors exposing the intimate interior of the cafe. We exchanged greetings, I ordered a drink and fumbled with a mixture of romance languages to engage in some pleasantries. It was not long before he was chatting with the regulars. Most went directly inside to escape the sun.

I relaxed, reflected, observed, read, walked a distance beside the tracks then read, relaxed, reflected, observed. The terrace light evolved from an oppressive glare to a softer glow. One or two trains rumbled by.  Time was passing much more quickly than I could have imagined. Subtle activities wove a unique fabric of interest as the day progressed.

This afternoon comes back to me often; a chance to appreciate time, travel anew.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Welcome to the tales of a woman solo traveler and thoughts to make today the start of something new. I hope you find information and inspiration in the text and images and join me in my quest for growth, wonderment and self-improvement.