Andy & Bev’s Travel Tales Stories, tips & anecdotes from 25 years in the tour business

Cowboys, cactus & chasing a dream

Thu, 2 Feb 2012 09:28:34 -0800

I always wanted to be a cowboy. This despite the fact that Dad was a pro football player and probably harbored dreams that his only child would follow in his footsteps.

But no way; I went so far as to make a public proclamation of my future career. I think it was back in 1948, the year Dad retired from the Ottawa Rough Riders when the old Ottawa Journal did one of those end of an era interviews. I happened to be there so the reporter dutifully asked me if I was going to be a football player when I grew up.

“No, I’m going to be a cowboy” was my immediate response.

To back up my ambition, there’s a really geeky photo of me in my cowboy outfit complete with hat, vest, cowboy shirt, chaps, lariat,two six guns and the most ugly pair of running shoes that never graced the feet of any true cowpoke.

I was driven. On Saturday it was Hopalong Cassidy serials at the movie theatre mixed in with listening to Roy Rogers on the Radio and building covered wagons with a couple of chairs and a blanket in the living room or in the kitchen at my Grandparents.

Ambush them varmints...

On one memorable occasion our West End gang consisting of Ronnie and Gail Duncan, Skippy Dolan, Carl Elliott and Freddy Reinsburger, decided to don our western garb and ambush the Catholic kids, otherwise known as The Papist Gang, coming home from school.

It was like the Gunfight at the OK Corral complete with chucking of wild cucumbers, handfuls of mud, tree branches and maybe even the odd rock mixed in. What a battle. We chased them all the way to St. Anthony’s where they finally found sanctuary in the church.

With that background it’s with great joy, and not too much surprise, that we’ll be heading down to Arizona, the real cowboy country in a couple of months.

Think of any old western movie and it was probably filmed in Arizona, either at in Old Tucson, where, of course, we’re going, or in Sedona, where we’re going, or elsewhere in those great desert valleys with the high mesas.

Heck, there have been close to 70 movies filmed in Old Tucson including Rio Bravo, Gunfight at the OK Corral, McClintock, Arizona, The Last Roundup, The Lone Ranger and the Lost City of Gold and tons of other great ‘epics’ including the musical Oklahoma.

Big land, big cactus...

That’s one of the ‘neat’ things about Arizona, the whole state is a movie set. Those giant Saguaro cacti (note the clever use of the plural cactus), the sweep of the desert that is so much more than what we normally think of a desert, old Ghost Towns, abandoned mines, the remains of settler’s homes that were built during the great western expansion.

A special note for our San Antonio gang. If you loved Luckenbach, Texas, you’ll love Tortilla Flat. Mind you, compared to Luckenbach, the Flat is a metropolis. It has six full time residents along with the post office, the general store and the infamous Superstition Saloon. It was once a stage coach stop in the old days. It’s not, however, the same Tortilla Flat made famous by John Steinback.

And Indian country. No, not the kind who are so painfully portrayed in those aforementioned movies but the real Navajos, Apaches, Hopi and remnants of the medieval tribes and cultures who have left their mark in the cliffs and on the desert floor.

These are people who have kept the old ways which are still seen in their arts and crafts displays and in the kachina dolls, which are more accurately religious icons. But it is a culture that still has their own villages and lands, their own cultural centres, their own rituals and lifestyle.

If you want to look into this richness of the original Americans, pick up a novel by Tony Hillerman who used characters from the Tribal Police as his main protagonists and most of their work was doe within the native villages. His novels have won countless awards from native groups for their realism and portrayal of the native people and their lifestyle of the Southwest.

Jeeps and not horses...

But honest, it’s not going to be all about cowboys and indians. How about a paddle wheeler journey on Canyon Lake? Or a jeep tour into the desert where we go off road and discover some of the nature and wildlife of these remote lands.

And we have not forgotten the cities. We’ll discover the excitement of Phoenix and Scottsdale which is our base, including some great shopping areas. In fact there’s a totally free day to explore, and shop and enjoy and as well we’ve built in lots of time in some of the areas we visit for you to wander on your own and not be herded.

Back in ‘83, before I got into this business, I spent some time poking about Arizona, discovering that great landscape, the fascinating architecture, the native American legacy, and yes, the cowboy corners as well.

But not to worry, over the years dignity has prevailed. I don’t wear a cowboy suit anymore. Bev, a Calgary cowgirl native, won’t let me.

Only 12 guests, for seven days from March 29 to April 4, just before Easter.

Give us a call at 1 800 773 7093 and let’s discover Cowboy Country. Check it out on our website, www.fraserconnection.com.

Burns Day...a voice crying in the condo

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 09:15:49 -0800

January 25 - It’s Burns Day. All over the world The Haggis will be on the boil waiting to be piped in to the hall and addressed by some worthy. Whisky tumblers will be full (for a short time) and will then require refilling.

Meanwhile, what are they doing tonight in the clubhouse at our Condo compound here in Chilliwack?

They are having a Chinese Dinner (bring your own plates and cutlery)!

Okay, this isn’t a travel blog but it is about ‘oor Rabbie’ and therefore Scotland. There, it’s justified.

Across the globe Burns parties will be in full swing. Pipers will be piping, the Highland Fling will become downright dangerous as the night wears on and the whisky goes down. Burns songs will be sung and his poetry read and discussed.

But not behind the high fence and locked gates of our compound. Once again we suffer despair and woe over the trails and tribulations of condo life. Bad enough we have to put up with their 15 km speed limit (monitored by what appears to be some wobbly retired prison guards who love to shout at you to slow down), but now we are faced with noodles and rice on the Bard’s Birthday.

Back in the USSR...

Hell’s teeth, the old Soviet Union even issued a postage stamp in honour of this man who has been revered across the globe.

In Vancouver they too are having a Chinese dinner but they are tying it in with one of the biggest Burns nights as well as the Chinese New Year. It’s their annual Gung Haggis Fat Choy night when Todd MacWong will be the Master of Ceremonies resplendent in his yellow and black MacLeod Kilt and his traditional red and gold Chinese vest.

Deep fried Haggis, Haggis won tons, Haggis egg rolls and a fascinating blend of Scots and Chinese cuisine - along with Scotch Whisky and a pipe band. Muticulturalism at its best.

But not here. We don’t think anyone inside the walls and gates even knows it was Chinese New Year on the 23rd or that it’s Burns Day today. (There are not many day passes issued by the ruling Condo Council).

It’s simply another one of the social supper nights and this one happens to be the Chinese dinner one. Later on they have a burger night, a fish night - and probably a muesli and gruel night.

We do it our way...

Meanwhile up in Cell block 2207 the Frasers will have the Scottish flag out on the balcony while inside we will be toasting the bard’s memory with Whisky while Scottish music plays in the background. And a Burns Day poster has mysteriously appeared on the bulletin board downstairs.

We started our own Bard bit last week with a Scots/French evening with another couple who live down the hall and who have not yet been brainwashed. In fact, they are so radical that they brought us a large loaf of Turkish bread.

Mind you, I should be careful about that French and foreign stuff in case Newt hears about it and tries to ban us at the border now that he’s showing some muscle.

Which reminds me one of Burns quotes about politicians -”Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!”

What is neat is that Burns is still revered in his own country. Much as in most of Canada (with the exception of our institution), there will be events in just about every town and hamlet in Scotland.

This man who was an ordinary working farmer who ended up as a tax man trying to make ends meet and who died at 37 was one of those who could speak for a nation. Not with great flowing phrases nor alliteration nor free verse but with simple words and in a language the ordinary person could hear in their heart.

This is why at any gathering in Scotland there will be more than a few who can recite an appropriate Burns verse for any function. In fact he is so revered that his poems and songs played a prominent part in the opening of the new Scots Parliament in 1999.

Poetry and words mean much to the Scot. On one of the exterior walls of the Scots Parliament are many plaques containing quotes, not only of Burns, but of other Scots poets and writers.

This was a man who could - and continues to - speak to a nation. To much of the world. Come Midnight New Year’s Eve - it’s Burns we sing - “Should Auld Acquaintance be forgot...”

Not a man to be ignored lightly.

Except in our Stalag.

And for something really special...

To learn more of Burns and of Scotland consider our Scotland/Orkney journey August 11-23. Or as Burns put it in his stirring quote of Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn: “Now’s the day and now’s the hour...”

The good, the bad...the silly

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:09:51 -0800

Dumb things - and people - we can do without on a cold January day:

Rick Perry - the Governor of Texas who had been running for the Republican Presidential nomination - says that Turkey should be kicked out of Nato because they are being run by Islamic Terrorists. This seems to be based on the fact that the President of Turkey and his wife are Muslims and that the government has been looking into military corruption.

If the governor reads he might be surprised to learn that Turkey is the only Muslim dominated country (90% of the population is Muslim) that has no state religion and that by law has a secular government. They are also the second largest contributor to NATO.

Mind you, he’s closely rivalled by the man he is now supporting, Newt (the nit) Gingrich who seems to believe that knowledge of a second language is a dangerous thing. Especially if that language is French.

We can do without this pair of Pierrots because they help sew fear and mistrust of people who are ‘foreign’. Fear, as we have seen since 9/11 has helped destroy tourism which is one of the few ways people have of discovering and understanding their world.

And of course, as we’re part of that world of tourism we see their ill-thought remarks to be not only silly but dangerous.

Incidentally, what ever happened to the statesmanlike qualities of dignity, politeness, intelligence and good manners?

Dumb brain things...

The other thing that ranks right up there in the stupid brain category is all the dither going on about whether cruise ships are safe in light of the Italian sinking.

We listen in awe to everyone in the cruise ship or travel business describing how safe these ships are and how different it would all be if the protocols had been followed and safety instructions had been given.

Really - a pile of nonsense.

Fact - If a ship with thousands of people on board tips over for whatever reason, there is going to be a major mess. All the safety rules and the drill everyone goes through in North America are based on the premise that the whistle will blow, the ship will come to a halt, the passengers, none of whom will panic, will all calmly go to their staterooms, don lifejackets, then return calmly to their deck muster station before carefully getting into the lifeboats.

Another fact - If the ship hits a rock, if an explosion occurs, if the power is lost, you will have panic!

Not amongst everyone but enough to make a mess and throw all the safety lessons out the window - or porthole. It’s human nature and it will happen among lowly paid crew, some officers, and the passengers.

Same with aircraft. Yes air travel is safe. Far safer than driving in a car or crossing the road or trying to get into an electronics store on boxing day.

Yet if an airplane decides to fall out of the sky for any reason there is going to be a problem; a big problem.

No amount of safety instructions of how to put on your lifejacket, how to get low and follow the little lights on the floor, or how to put on the oxygen mask or assume the brace position will prevent bad things from happening.

But it’s the same with driving a car. You can do everything required of a good driver but sometimes, ice, a pothole, a bad driver coming the other way or exceptionally bad weather, can put an end to all of it.

No guarantees...

That’s life. Earthquakes, hurricanes, unexpected incidents can and will occur somewhere, sometime to someone. They do now and it’s not going to change.

Like the old military saying: “The battle plan goes out the window the moment the first bullet is fired”.

We plan, we do what we’re told, we take all the precautions necessary, then we carry on with living.

There’s no point in not going on a cruise, or taking a flight, or driving your car. We calculate the risks then we go ahead and enjoy life and everything it has to offer.

Discovering new places and people, whether with us or on a cruise is not only fun, but is uplifting. We learn, we expand and we grow. But not if we live under a rock.

A bientot!

Great writers, bad poet, terrible orchestra

Fri, 13 Jan 2012 09:31:39 -0800

Can’t talk to Bev these days. At least not after we shut down the office for the day.

She’s got her nose in a book - ‘The Impossible Dead’ by Edinburgh writer Ian Rankin.

Rankin is considered to be one of the best crime writers out there and is most known for his long running series about the seedy Edinburgh detective John Rebus.

Once you’re hooked by Rankin, that’s it, game over till you finish.

She does take a break to make dinner so all is not lost. However, I notice that there’s a McCall-Smith novel sitting beside her favourite chair so I’m afraid the silence will continue for some time to come.

Alexander McCall-Smith is yet another Capital City writer who is most famous for his Number One Ladies Detective Agency series based in Botswana where the author spent a number of years. His portly Botswana heroine detective has become one of the most endearing characters in modern literature.

McCall-Smith, a professor of medical law, manages to produce about three to four novels per year as well as magazine articles, speaking engagements and the like.

But when it comes to music...

He also does something else - if not with quite the success of his world famous novels. He plays the bassoon in the now faintly famous Really Terrible Orchestra formed by a group of would-be musicians who never were.

McCall-Smith founded this discordant group a number of years ago - and they really are really terrible. In his own words: “My own playing set the standard. I play the bassoon, even if not quite the whole bassoon. I have never quite mastered C-sharp, and I am weak on the notes above the high D. In general, I leave these out if they crop up, and I find that the effect is not unpleasant.”

The remainder of the Orchestra is of a similar standard. One cello player some years ago used to pencil his notes for fingering on the bridge of his instrument - with no positive effect while another – a clarinetist – had had only three or four lessons and could not go above the middle B flat. He played only the bottom notes, and not very well.

But such is fame if you have a name. The RTO plays each year at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival to sold out crowds though, as our author said, “Wisely, we took the view that the audience should be given a glass of wine, or even more than a glass, before the concert. This assists their enjoyment and understanding of our idiosyncratic performance.”

Anyway, not much to do with literature but a bit of insight into the Edinburgh mind which may appear to be staid, snooty, sophisticated and intellectual, but deep down has a very different side.

This city does have a leaning to the literate. Google up Edinburgh writers and you’ll come up with a list of more than 50, many of whom are alive, well and writing in their city including their adopted sister, J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter’s mother.

This painful poet...

One Edinburgh literary figure who is no longer with us, but is still published is William McGonagall, considered by most experts - and anyone who has read his works - to be the worst poet in British History.

This poor man was so bad that when he sent one of his poems to Queen Victoria, she sent it back.

McGonagall, an undoubted optimist who rejected rejection, claimed he was inspired to become a poet when he "seemed to feel a strange kind of feeling stealing over him, and remained so for about five minutes.” Perhaps he should have lain down till the feeling passed.

At one stage he toured Britain giving recitals which actually sold out. The only problem was that most went thinking it was a comedy routine.

Perhaps his worst was “The Tay Bridge Disaster” which began:

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

Not quite the level of McCall-Smith, Rankin, J.K. Rowling, R.L. Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle and the others who all contributed to making Edinburgh the United Nations first ever City of Literature.

Each year when we visit Edinburgh, Bev and I always make time to visit the Edinburgh International Book Festival which runs through August and is one of the larger events of its type in the world. It’s a great opportunity to stock up on yet more books to help increase the weight of our luggage as well as to be made aware of yet again that there are few cities which have produced so much literature over centuries.

And scattered amongst those volumes of drama, literature and poetry you will always find a few copies of the works of William McGonagall.

Meanwhile, it’s gone dark, it’s cold outside but warm in here - and Bev’s still reading.

Cowboys, Horses, Saints & weird stuff in Provence

Thu, 5 Jan 2012 10:40:50 -0800

It was a pleasant mid May day of about 10 years ago when our coach chugged to a halt in St. Maximin de la Ste Baume midway between Aix en Provence and Cannes.

Jimmy, our faithful driver and I decided to fix the problem. It all seemed to have something to with getting a metal bracket off a glass vial. We broke the vial. We needed help.

Leaving Jimmy to deal with that little problem the rest of us wandered about this strange little town with the huge basilica said to contain the skull and remains of no less a worthy than Mary Magdalene.

You may well ask how did Mary Magdalene’s skeletal remains found themselves in Provence which is a fair way from the Holy Land.

There is a story to it and one that is not too far fetched.

A long boat trip...

Mary wasn’t alone. Legend has it that she and her brother Lazarus (yes, that same once dead person) along with Mary Jacobe, Mary Salome, the mothers of the apostle John and both James, as well as Sarah, a servant of the two Mary’s and Martha all sailed from Jerusalem shortly after the resurrection of Jesus. After all, this was not a safe place for any of the followers of Jesus and it was get out of town time.

They hit the high road, which was the Mediterranean, and eventually landed at the mouth of Le Petit Rhone in the South of France. Over time they preached and eventually separated with Mary Magdalene ending up in St Maximin de la Ste Baume.

Martha, a sister of one of the Marys, is said to be buried in Tarascon, also in the south of France while the other two Marys and Sarah are said to be buried in the church in Stes Marie de la Mer, where they originally landed.

Not only are there pilgrimages to the burial site, but each year there is a big Gypsy gathering because they venerate the Egyptian servant girl Sarah.

All this in cowboy country...

And to put a big ribbon around it, this all takes place in the cowboy country of the Camargue which is about as far as you can imagine from Monaco, Nice, Cannes and the French Riviera.

The coach breakdown gave us time to think upon all these things and to plan to someday come back to the Camargue and check out these stories and this very bizarre countryside which is part of the south of France but so very, very different.

And those cowboys? They ride white horses descended from the later Stone Age which are born black but grow up white. (And you thought the legend and the skull stuff was strange!)

Why cowboys? Because they have to ride herd on the 6,000 or so Black Bulls of the Camargue who have upswept horns upon which flowers are placed so brave young souls can try and grab them off in the southern France version of bull fighting. (Yes, this is still the Riviera & Provence).

Happily the bulls are not killed. In fact, they are put back in the ring time and time again which means they learn each time out which also means that many of the brave young souls pick up a fair number of lumps, bumps and bruises courtesy of the wise old bulls.

The more devious of the bulls eventually retire to a stud farm which probably gives them far more pleasure than knocking young people about a bull ring.

Don’t forget the flamingoes...

Oh yes, all this takes place just a short distance away from the bays where thousands of pink flamingos mess about at the edge of the water.

And for those not involved with the horses, the cowboys, the bulls or all the church goings on, they can always make their living from the thousands of acres of rice paddies in the Cam argue. Or maybe from the massive nearby salt flats.

There are dude ranches, rice paddies, roman ruins, flamingos along with the first crusader castle built as an embarkation station back in 1095 just over in Dead Water (Aigues Morte). Which almost sounds like it’s near Dry Gulch or tombstone.

And that convoluted rationale tells you why we’re going to spend a few days in the
Camargue when we return to Provence and the Riviera in May.

Sometimes breakdowns can lead to some pretty neat things.

Cowboys & other weird stuff in Provence

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 12:14:38 -0800

There’s a big, gorgeous looking book on our coffee table that arrived just before Christmas. Titled ‘A Turkish Delight’ it was expertly put together by Catherine Pike and Elaine Muller a couple of ex Toronto Star staffers who were part of our little band of explorers in Turkey this year.

What a delightful gift and what a lot of work. It brought back many good memories for us that we tend to forget at this time of year when we’re rushing ahead with the next season and doing all the Christmas and New Year stuff.

Many, many thanks ladies.

The best of this, the best of that...

And speaking of all the Christmas and New Year stuff are you starting to become a bit fed up with all the best news stories of the year, the best plays of the year, the best business stories of the year, the best movies of the year, the best books of the years...blah, blah, blah? Reminiscences and rich food. That seems to be about it right now.

And for us and our rather off centred business? We do it too.

One of the ‘best’ for us would have to be our Spring Scotland journey where we were able to get Don and Sheila not only to the town where Don’s Grandparents were married but to the house in which they were married. Then later our pal Jimmy took them to the place where Don’s Dad was born. All in all a successful tour.

So what if we had to endure hurricane force winds on one of ‘the top railway journeys in the world’; so what if a tree branch fell on the train and we were stalled six times and we were two hours late getting to our station before having to drive over Glencoe in what had to be the worst driving conditions of the year.

It’s an adventure right?

Mind you, our London and Cotswolds jaunt was pretty darn good. One of the best things about travel is discovering that some places do stay the same and remain so - English.

Tiny villages with their half-timbered and stone cottages, little streams burbling through the town and in London, the ever present changing of the guard, Hyde Park, and West end theatre.

Technology is NOT an adventure...

There is almost an assurance that the world is ok as long as some of these places still exist despite our complete surrender to the gods of technology at our hotel in London where it was perhaps best put by Ken when he proclaimed that despite his two degrees and having taught high school for more than 30 years he was unable to figure out how to turn on the TV or work the shower.

All this despite the fact that there is probably ‘an Ap for that’ though for the life of me, I have enough trouble trying to figure what the heck is an Ap much less what to do with it. (Though I do have some ideas about the latter.)

The Heather was in full bloom for our late summer Scotland journey which was most appropriate since daughter Heather came along.

Old Europe...

Croatia was a delightful ‘old world’ surprise. Zagreb, Zadar, tea dances in the park, absolutely breathtaking waterfalls and nation parks, an adriatic coast that hat has to be seen to be believed as does the World Heritage city of Dubrovnik.

This is not a land that gives the impression of having just come through a series of nasty little wars of independence following the break up of the old Yugoslavia. And the people are perhaps more forward looking than many of their brothers and sisters in other parts of Europe.

If only we could have convinced our guide Silvio that he couldn’t yodel.

And we’re still enraptured with so much of Turkey. It’s hard to beat the feeling of sitting out at night beside an open fire place watching the stars appear over the vast almost lunar like fairly landscape in front of us at our cave hotel. Pure magic.

As was our San Antonio pre-Christmas party - especially Luckenbach, Texas, the tiny town of three made famous by Willie Nelson and the boys. This place has to be the quintessential image of Texas, including the Dance Hall.

Good memories and a most satisfying ending to a quarter century of our journeying.

To those who joined us - a most heartfelt thanks.

Now for a couple more days of over indulgence including some bad, bad movies including “The Thief of Bagdad’ a 1939 potboiler we recently watched featuring flying carpets and Sabu, the Jungle Boy. (We do keep telling each other that we have to get a life.)

Anyway, enjoy it as you will and ‘A Happy Hogmanay to Ane and A’. (One and All).

Cool Christmas memories...

Thu, 22 Dec 2011 12:22:56 -0800

How cold was it? Why, it was so cold that Bev had to go through the coach scrapping the inside of the windows with a credit card.

It was so cold that the train coming up to Inverness from Manchester had to stop seven times because some little thingys kept freezing up. The ‘thingys’ were parts of the train, not people’s thingys although our friends on that train would dispute that.

That was back in ‘95 when we did our one and only Christmas & Hogmanay tour; Durham for the Christmas part, Inverness for Hogmanay. And it was cold, the coldest that it had been in close to a century. I did not wear my kilt outdoors!

It was an interesting tour. One of our guests, a former US Senator from Georgia, was stopped at customs in London and had his prescription drugs confiscated by an over zealous, grinch like official, which caused considerable anxiety. Another guest had chest pains on New Year’s eve at our big Hogmanay party and had to be rushed to the hospital.

And it snowed so much on Christmas Day in Durham that when I went for my run I couldn’t find my way back because the trail had been completely covered which meant I had to slither down snowy slopes to the banks of the Wear River and follow the shore to the bridge leading over to our hotel.

We had a family of three from somewhere in the deep south who loved the novelty of snow even though they were less impressed with the cold. Every time we stopped the three of them would get off the coach and stand together staring at the white fields.
It was one of those rare winters in the UK where the snow and the cold came to stay.

On our way up to Inverness we stayed over at Channings in Edinburgh to take in one of the Pantos. The hotel had been closed, since the end of October and had opened especially for us - but - they had forgotten to bleed the radiators so the heat didn’t come up from the old boilers. You could see your breath in the halls.

One of our guests (the same poor soul who later would have the heart attack symptoms) refused to take off her fur coat, even in bed.

It may sound rather grim, but it was fun. Eventually the heat worked its way up to the rooms, the roads didn’t freeze so we could travel easily, our heart attack symptoms guest spent the night at Raigmore hospital but was released in the morning and I made it back to the hotel after my snowy run in time for the big Christmas lunch.

Bev managed to get a chemist and doctor to work together to replace the drugs which had been so stupidly confiscated and we came back with the same number of people we started out with.

We had brought my mother on the trip and she loved it. Oblivious to the cold and snow (after all she was from Ottawa) she kept telling us the whole trip was ‘a fairy tale’.

In fact there were some fairy tale moments. While walking up to Durham Cathedral for Christmas eve service, it began to snow. Big fluffy flakes falling on the perfect English setting. Inside the Cathedral, the choir and congregation sang those wonderful old christmas carols and hymns. We still choke up when we remember that night.

Mum was 86 at the time so we had hiked her up the hill in a wheelchair. After the service this meant going back down the hill with Mum in her wheelchair, in the snow. Lots of snow, wet and slippery snow. I was no longer pushing, in fact I was sliding down, hanging on as we gathered speed. Something like a runaway dog sled team. And all the while Mum was laughing and calling out “Throw Momma from the Sleigh” while Bev chased us down the hill not sure of what she would do if she caught us.

It was a special time. Far too soon all the Christmases and special times become memories as time flies on. Enjoy all the moments and have a wonderful Christmas.

A Special P.S.

If you’re planning on joining us on any of our journeys this year, take advantage of the $150 savings per person by booking by the end of the year.

We’re going to be here so give us a call at 1 800 773 7093.

We’re not that bad after all...

Thu, 15 Dec 2011 15:49:26 -0800

Yes, we know, it’s a lovely time of year. Weird concepts of ‘Christmas’ music playing tunelessly over and over again in the malls, mobs of grumpy and harassed shoppers over-spending in depressive panic mode and someone in our kitchen who is wrapping presents suddenly blurting out: “That looks like....”.

Probably a good idea to go back to Luckenbach, Texas!

Every year it seems to get worse. More and more pitch from retailers to buy, buy, buy those electronic thingys that so many seem to think will make life simpler and which every kid ‘needs’.

Mind you, somehow most of us will probably make it and will, in varying degrees, retain a portion of our sanity.

Since coming back we’ve been trying to get the website sorted out with proper dates and prices (there really are gremlins who lurk in the bowels of computers doing their dark, dirty little deeds), and getting a snail mail brochure prepared for mail out.

We have also been trying to get over a gout attack (me and my big toe), and running back and forth to clinics and doctors to see if my favourite Christmas wrapper has a detached retina.

Add to that a bit of broken field running in the malls, sometimes called Christmas shopping.

Little moments of light...

But then there are little moments of light. Trying to find some photos for the brochure I happened upon the pic we’ve used to highlight this blog. Not a great sunset, or a castle, or a scenic shot, but just a bunch of people picking up a bunch of bottles.

About three months ago a young guy was pushing a loaded cart of empites along a cobble stoned street in Zadar, Croatia when his precarious load escaped with a clatter and rattle, bottles bouncing all over the street.

It was hot, very hot, and the young man looked totally distraught and defeated by the overwhelming mess.

Then suddenly, like a horde of good elves, tourists and passers by changed direction and immediately started the collection process, chasing down wayward and still rolling bottles, bringing them back and resorting them into the various boxes and containers.

Certainly not a miracle nor a great rescue of anyone in distress, but just one of those nice little things that people do once in while which lifts us out of the depths of what at times could be described as ‘the human condition’.

It was a good feeling. And it was a good feeling discovering that photo yesterday in the midst of our seasonal chaos of peace on earth, good will towards men.

Kitten keepers...

Another little moment was in October at the outdoor bar of the Kismet hotel in Kusadasi, Turkey when the bar tender and his staff realized that a mother cat had been killed leaving three little orphaned kittens.

When we went down for a drink we discovered the staff deeply involved in learning (with help from the head bartender) how to feed new kittens from a dropper and how to set up a nice snuggly blanket in a cardboard box.

Again, not a big deal, just a moment that make one think that maybe we’re o.k. after all.

Sometimes it isn’t an act or an action but a reaction.

Mario Bosnjak, our young driver in Croatia had been brought up in a tiny Croat village in Bosnia when the terrible ‘cleansing’ wars had begun less than 20 years ago. Surrounded by Serb villages, Mario’s family - in fact everyone was forced to leave for Croatia when their village was totally destroyed.

It’s a story we hear far too often; the same plot going back to the beginnings of time right up to the present day. We can be cruel.

But for Mario, there is no apparent bitterness. He never talks about those days - we had to pry it out of him - he never shows antagonism. In fact, he seems to go the other way.

I mentioned to him at one time that I had watched Hajduk Split, a former Yugoslavian soccer team play in Vancouver long years ago. Mario remembered and during his time off he insisted on driving Bev and I out to the Hajduk Stadium.

Again, not a big deal, but a kindness from a person who had been able to turn away from hurt and bitterness and just didn’t see life that way. His willingness to set aside a bad time and to joke and chat with anyone, on either side of the border, reminds some of us that there is gold to be mined in the human spirit.

There can be bitterness, or kindness. Whether it’s within us or from someone else - which leaves the better feeling? Which leaves you smiling?

Have to go now and buy more wrapping paper.

Country music & Christmas Carols

Thu, 8 Dec 2011 16:00:05 -0800

The Christmas lights were stunning, the River Walk in San Antonio really is up there among the things that should have a high ranking on your bucket list and the Alamo, up close and personal, is far more a moving experience than the old John Wayne movie makes out.

But you’ve got to go a long way to beat Luckenbach, the tiny town where there are more roosters and chickens than there are people. Way more. In fact, the total population of the ‘town’ is three.

There’s a U.S. Post Office and General Store (that’s all in one building),where the roosters hold court on the roof, a bit of a saloon in the back, (still the same store), an ATM machine out back, a watering trough and hitching post for horses, also out back, and a dance hall.

There’s also a dirt parking lot for cars, but on country music nights, it’s mostly filled with great big shiny Motorcycles.

That’s it. No more.

A country music singer (there’s no other kind of music around here), was holding court in the saloon, singing ‘Police got my Dad’ to the tune of Feliz Navidad, while a dozen or so visitors to the town sat around drnking beer, including some of our gang.

Finding an ATM...

Being brought up an easterner, the fine points of Country & Western music passed me by though I did have an autographed photo of Tom Mix, so I wandered around outside, carefully stepping around the considerable number of roosters.

Going around back of the multi-purpose saloon, post office, store - and most likely Town Hall, I came across what could best be described as a worn out outhouse attached to the main building. Only thing was, there was a sign on it that read ATM.

I siddled around the structure, passing the horse trough and hitching post till I found a door which I carefully opened. Low and behold, it was what it said - an ATM machine, glowing and blinking like the interior of Doctor Who’s magic police box. (I know, wrong country, wrong century).

That special ‘y’all drawl’...

Meanwhile back inside the General Store part of the emporium, a guy from Mississippi and the Post Master-Store manager-drink pourer and probably mayor were chatting with each other in a language that at times almost resembled English.

It sounded like Tennessee Ernie Ford and Slim Pickens with speech problems or as Bev put it, “They really do sound like that!”

There wasn’t much going on except for the singing and the beer drinking but our gang loved it. Even me. There was a laid back feel that permeated everything and everyone.

Willie Nelson sang a song about Luckenbach that’s still pretty popular and this little place that’s sort of in the middle of nowhere in particular regularly packs the dance hall with big names from the country music world.

It was a fun stop.

So too was the rest of our sojurn in San Antonio and vicinity.

It was a bit of magic to be sitting at an outside restaurant on the River Walk listening to Christmas Carols being sung by school choirs as they drifted up and down the river just feet from the appreciative diners.

Texans are also big on their country music and on their Spanish - Mexican heritage in the way of Mariachi music. But one evening while strolling along the River Walk, Bev and I hear bagpipes. Like Bloodhounds on the scent, we traced the sound up a flight of stairs on to a bridge where a young Mexican-American was playing the old music from a land far away.

He’d been playing for 10 years, had stopped for a while but was back in tune playing most nights on the bridge. It was a nice moment - as was the sight of the San Antonio Pipes and Drums playing at the Castroville Christnmas Market.

The people in this corner of the world must be among the most polite bunch we have ever come across. Couldn’t go anywhere without hearing “How y’all doin?” In fact, Y’all is described in Wikpedia as a part of speech - a ‘plural second person pronoun’.

Standing in line at the airport counter on the day we left, the tiny little middle aged woman who checked us in wanted to know if we had enjoyed our stay and if we had bought the obligatory “Don’t mess with Texas” T-shirts.

And as we left, she called out, “Y’all come back now”.

Sounds like a good idea.

(p.s. the photo in the Luckenbach emporium was taken by Ralph Gibson - one of our traveling gang)

Lots of Variety for our 26th year...

Hope you’v e had an opportunity to check out out 2012 season.

Most of it is in place including Portugal, South of France ( this would make a good back to back package), Scotland including Orkney, The Balkans - Zagreb, Sarajevo, Dubrovnik, the once again a return to Turkey.

We’re still working on an early spring journey and will soon be able to set up once again for our second annual San Antonio pre-Christmas party.

To check them out just go to our website at www.fraserconnection.com and click on the tour you want for all the details.

Remember too that if you book before the end of December you can deduck $150 per person.

All set (almost) for next year!!!

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 08:03:15 -0800

At last! We are (mostly) ready to announce our 2012 season.

We’ve been trying to fit in a blog along the way, but time was not on our side. For the first time in more than a couple of decades we have had to put together our program all at once which means chaos.

Dates to be sorted, hotels to be chosen (until one says we can take you on these dates but the other doesn’t dovetail in). And there’s negotiating price, coaches and drivers, visits, avoiding certain holidays, trying to stay away from certain hotels on weekends where they have weddings designed to destroy the sleep of everyone.

And mostly, apart from a couple of dates and costs, it’s ready. Besides, we’re heading down to Seattle today to fly to San Antonio on Tuesday for the start of of pre-christmas party!

It’s a fascinating upcoming season so without further ado - here we go.

An Easter Extravaganza - Budapest, Prague, Vienna (probably April 3-12 dates and price still to be finalized) This is the place where Easter is celebrated with more than an Easter Egg Hunt. Huge Easter Markets, concerts throughout the season in three old world European capitals - Budapest, Prague and Vienna. Three nights in each centre, plenty of free time, great music and great markets and a cruise on the Danube. We’ll have final details very soon.

How about an early Spring in Portugal? The vast interior of the country is covered with spring flowers and growth at this time of year - and the tourists haven’t put in an appearance. This is a land so much a part of Europe yet so different. Three nights in the Algarve on the beach in a five star luxury resort, three nights in a 13th century castle built by a king then three nights in the heart of Lisbon. Lots of neat things to see and do including discovering the wine, the massive cork forests, the ancient moorish architecture, the people - and the explorers who opened up much of the world. Portugal is a land not soon forgotten. (April 15-26)

Provence & The Riviera. Why not indulge yourself? A number of you have been asking for us to get back to the south of France so - here we go. Three nights in the Riviera in a luxury hotel right on the Promenade des Anglais overlooking the Med. Three nights in the historic and beautiful Avignon near the Palais des Papes and the famous bridge; ‘sur le pont, d’Avignon...’. And for something completely different three nights in the Camargue. This is where Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene and St. John were said to have landed. Massive Salt pans, great expanses of rice fields, the famous white horses of the Camargue (born black, grow up white) and the place where black bulls are raised for the bull ring (but not the Spanish style). Roman ruins, a Crusader’s castle and a boat cruise on Le Petit Rhone. (April 30-May 14)

Scotland & Orkney. National Geographic says the Highlands are a ‘must’ to visit’, so once again we’ll do it, this year including Orkney, another request from a few of you. Orkney is a window to the past. Every mile brings a shock to the senses. Standing stones, ancient burial chambers, a Stone Age Village (complete with a sewage system) and - the Vikings those seagoing warriors who lived and ruled these islands for close to 700 years. A magical land. We will, as usual, take in the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo at the time of the Edinburgh Festival, as well as much more. Visit the land of the last European tribal society.
(August 11-23)

The clouds have lifted from The Balkans. Croatia, Bosnia-Herzogovina and Montenegro. Long seen as a confusion of states, of little nasty wars, of Socialist oppression and as the place that triggered the first World War,this corner of the world, once known as Yugoslavia has changed. The world of travel is beginning to realize what “The Jewels of the Adriatic” mean. But we’re ahead of the crowds. After discovering Croatia last year we’re extending our reach. This year we’re again visiting Croatia including the capital Zagreb and the stunningly beautiful Dubrovnik. We are also going into BosniaHerzegovina to stay in the lovely little town of Jajce as well as Sarajevo, the home of the ‘84 Winter Olympics and where Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated, leading to the outbreak of the First War. And more recently, this courageous little town was under siege from 1992-96. Yet what is most uplifting with The Balkans is that you rarely hear talk of those days. The people are looking forward to a new future. Beautiful country, scenery that is unmatched, tiny whitewashed villages, old European medieval centers. See it before the hordes of tourists descend. (Mid September.- Dates to be finalized).

A Turkish Delight . How can we not go back to this enchanting, vibrant, historically rich country? Istanbul - the centre of the world for over one thousand years, Cappadocia, the land of fairy chimneys, cave dwellers (including us), ancient Christian churches. This is the land of saints and philosophers. There are more Greek ruins in Turkey than in Greece and we see the best of them. As well as the Aegean. Stay in a hotel owned by the daughter of the last Sultan where every room overlooks the water. Great markets, great mosques, great history and delightful people. It’s a must. (October 7-17)

Go to our website then click on whichever tour appeals - or click on them all. There are opportunities to do back to back journeys with very special savings.

When you see what you like give us a call or email before the end of December and knock off $150 per person from the tour price. And if you have friends, bring four and get your tour for half price. (That offer does not include your spouse or significant other, but it does include aunts, uncles, grandchildren, children and friends.)

The moment we have the details for the Easter Markets we’ll be in touch. The same with the dates and final price for Croatia.

Give us a shout with any questions. We’re excited with the program and we hope you’ll be joining us as we discover this fascinating world.