Cuba: What Does it Say About our Country?

September 17, 2012

Dear Friends,

I find Cuba endlessly fascinating. When you travel to Cuba, you always end up leaving with more questions than answers. Yet, beyond the cultural richness of this island nation, there is another way in which Cuba gives this U.S. citizen pause. Cuba provides an intriguing lens through which to view our own nation. It casts shadows where there should be light and it reveals recesses of our national psyche that lack logic and good sense.

The Capitolio in Havana, fashioned after our very own Capitol

So here are some of my many questions:
•   Why do we implement a policy that restricts our citizens’ freedom to travel where they wish when we object to the same restrictions on freedom imposed by the Cuban government?
•   What other countries does our own government prohibit us from visiting other than Cuba? (None!)
•   When we have resumed relations with China since the 1970s and Vietnam since the 1990s, both nations with Communist regimes and human rights abuse records, why do we continue to isolate and economically oppress Cuba, 90 miles off our shores?
•   How effective has isolationism been in punishing and/or undermining the Castro regime?
•   Who are the real victims of U.S. policy in Cuba?
•   How does a small minority like the conservative Cuban Americans in Congress wield so much power in our democratic system?
•   How much leverage do we have in influencing Cuba’s future direction if we do not encourage economic engagement with Cuba?
•   Why do we export over $700 million in U.S. agricultural products (rice, beans, corn, frozen chicken) to Cuba every year when there is an embargo in place?
•   What other early 1960s policy still dominates our polemic today?
•   Why are we devoting tax-payers’ dollars to policing a complex set of regulations governing our relations (or lack thereof) with Cuba, an island of just over 11 million people?
•   When foreign countries implement laws that make fun of our own (eg. Helms Burton Act), is it not a sign that we lack reason?
•   In a post-Cold War world, what are we afraid of?
•   What will happen when Fidel and Raul die?
•   When will this all end?

Hatred runs deep, I know. Yet it seems we are in a position to take a risk here. How about trying a new policy, since the one that has been in place for over 70 years has been so completely ineffective?

The fantastical world of artist Jose Fuster, Jaimanitas

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“You don’t go to Cuba for the food.”

May 21, 2012

Dear Friends,

No one can deny that one of the many pleasures of traveling usually includes the local cuisine. Whether savoring a rich foie gras on a toast point in France, a saffron-tinted paella in Spain, a creamy carbonara in Italy, a fragrant cilantro-laced larb in Laos, the crispy lacquered skin of a Peking duck in China, the spicy lamb of a Moroccan merguez sausage–there is no end to the fond sensory memories these delicious dishes evoke. So when you are told “you don’t go there for the food,” it takes a hit on your eager anticipation of the upcoming journey.

Deep-fried baby octopi at Melia Cohiba Hotel buffet

ATA has sent hundreds of travelers to Cuba since the fall of 2010, on both professional and people-to-people programs. And sadly, we do advise all of our guests to expect mediocre meals while on the island.  State-run restaurants serve bland, repetitive meals, usually including Moors & Christians (black beans and rice), roast pig, fried plantains, beets and shredded cabbage, and possibly a flan or rice pudding for dessert.  Paladares, privately-run restaurants that are proliferating with recent economic reforms encouraging entrepreneurship, serve a more varied and interesting cuisine.  Some of my recent paladare meals (at Café Laurent and La Guarida in Havana and at Villa Lagarto in Cienfuegos) included shrimp brochette, pork chops, and swordfish. However, none of these meals came close to the fine Cuban cuisine available in the U.S. or elsewhere.

So this disappointing showing begs the question: why are chefs in Cuba not able to produce a higher quality of cuisine? I have heard various answers. The high cost and lack of availability of produce and foodstuffs,  the until-now limited demand for high-end meals, the fairly weak chef training programs and culinary career opportunities, the surprisingly limited fishing that takes place around the island.

A typical Cuban menu, Old Havana

Eighty percent of what Cubans eat is imported, and 40% of that comes from the U.S. (rice, beans, corn).  This dependence is a serious economic weakness and makes foodstuffs expensive for the average Cuban, not to mention for the restaurant owners, both state and private.

Forever resourceful, Cubans are finding ways to address the need for fresh vegetables, luxury food items, and hard-to-find spices.  With a more open door for Cuban Americans to visit and send packages to their relatives, a steady stream of restaurant supplies is flowing into the country. Community vegetable gardens are sprouting up in urban areas.  Between May 2011 and April 2012, I already noticed a huge improvement in the quality of the cuisine. Fruits and vegetables were more readily available, and the shrimp and fish were a little less over-done.  The New York Times on May 18, 2012 reported on an interesting culinary project taking place at the time of this writing–Project Paladare (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/18/world/americas/in-cuba-cross-cultural-art-project-involves-food.html). Such culinary collaboration between Cuba and foreign chefs will only further the refinement of Cuban cuisine.

In the end, Cuba in all its glory—with its passionate culture, its vibrant people, its whimsical art and ubiquitous music—fills every sensory need a traveler has and more.  So while we assume food is a key component of any successful travel experience, Cuba proves that there is more to life than the material, corporeal needs of human beings.  Cuba feeds one’s soul in a way few travel experiences—or meals–can.

In a few years, with any luck and the continued loosening of the US travel policy on Cuba, resources will increase, culinary training will improve, and the excellent Cuban cuisine we enjoy in Miami and elsewhere will be emulated where it originated—the island nation itself.  And then Cuba will be hard to beat as a destination that truly has it all!

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In Search of the Perfect Laab in Laos

November 25, 2011

Dear Friends,

Laab (also written ‘larb’) is a dish originating in Laos that has become a staple of menus across Thailand.  Its name means “luck” and this dish is a frequent star at the table during festivals and special occasions. It also makes the perfect gift for guests, conveying your good wishes along with some fresh sustenance all on one plate.

Some Laab Ingredients: Mint, cilantro, shallots

To me and my family, laab is a perennial favorite. Loving simple, speedy Southeast Asian cuisine, I became enamored of Thai dishes long ago.  My children, at very young ages, when asked their favorite foods, would cite “pizza, peanut butter and laab,” raising quizzical eyebrows on inquiring adults.  To this day, turning to the laab page in my Thai recipe book, the tell-tale scribbles of my two-year-old daughter (who is now 14) attest to this dish’s place in my family history.

So finding myself in Laos recently in the company of my colleague, Chris Roper, who shares my culinary interests, we decided to go on a pilgrimage to find the best laab. In Luang Prabang, we settled into the lovely Bamboo Garden restaurant, by the fountain, and ordered Laab Gai, the chicken version.  It arrived with a garnish of cucumber and cabbage, and young, delicate sprigs of cilantro and mint. The usual seasonings of fish sauce (usually squid) and lime juice were subtle, with scallions and cilantro dominating, textured by the barely perceptible crunch of roasted rice powder.  The spice was very tame, and Chris and I felt a little disappointed.  Very good, but this laab had not reached full potential.

A monk in Luang Prabang prepares a spicy green papaya salad

We moved on to a place recommended to us by our Lao guide, Mr. Kamh. He claimed it was the best laab in town.  Skeptically, we claimed a two-top at “Pizza Luang Prabang.”  A two-tiered terrace of exterior tables camouflaged an unattractive interior, where plastic-covered tables, a linoleum floor and kitschy decorations made me question our choice.  Two Italian men chattered away next to us, enjoying a smoke after their LP Pizza.  We ordered our laab—beef this time–and some Lao coffee.

When the waiter placed the dish on the table, we leaned in to inspect it.  Interesting: this time we saw unexpected ingredients.  Baby bean sprouts and thinly sliced lemon grass added texture and citrus to the overall freshness of this lucky Lao salad.  The rice powder was also more prevalent, adding a nutty undertone that was very pleasing. Again the lime and fish sauce were subtle, almost after-thoughts.   And there was another ingredient that was hard to identify, a barely discernible vegetable.  Again the spice level was low, and for us, spice addicts, a bit disappointing. Nonetheless, we agreed this laab won over the Bamboo Garden’s.

Our third laab tasting was compliments of Mr. Tie (pronounced “tee”), our chef on the Mekong Sun, a lovely little ship that travels from Luang Prabang to the Golden Triangle. Mr. Tie is a baby-faced 26-year-old who has been cooking since he was a teen.  He clearly loves his craft and puts his heart into every dish. He provided a full cooking demonstration for all the passengers, revealing a few aspects of preparation that were new to me.  For example, he added fish sauce as seasoning to the chicken before cooking it in the pan.  He not only added fried shallots but also fresh ones. He taught us how to roast our own rice: with lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves—in a dry pan.  Then the browned rice is transferred to a mortar and pounded into a powder (I buy small packets of rice powder at home, saving at least 30 minutes!). Then he revealed the secret ingredient I could not identify in Luang Prabang: raw yard-long beans, sliced into tiny rounds.  This addition adds a whole new, greener dimension to laab.

Mr. Tie's ingredients are laid out for laab gai preparation

Mr. Tie’s laab was very similar to Luang Prabang Pizza’s—excellent in its freshness and crunch.  Again, I would add more lime juice and chili powder, but this is a personal preference.

My time is Laos is a gift I am not soon to forget, and laab is one lucky way I can continue to keep a little piece of Laos in my life and in my heart.  For all those who dream of going to Laos, I present you with a recipe that I hope will bring you the good fortune of one day seeing this magnificent country.

Larb Nua (Beef Larb)

1 lb beef, minced or ground

2 cloves of garlic, chopped

1-3 red chili(s), chopped (spice level according to taste, of course)

1 tbsp chopped shallots

2 tbsp Thai basil, chopped (can replace with coriander, if you prefer)

2 tbsp mint, chopped

1 tbsp roasted rice powder

1 tbsp spring onion, chopped

1-2 tbsp of Nuoc Mam or fish sauce, to taste

Juice of 2-3 limes (taste and see if you like it with more citrus!)

2 hothouse cucumbers, sliced lengthwise and seeded, cut into 6 inch “boats” OR iceberg lettuce leaves

Hot peppers dry in a village along the Upper Mekong

Variations Seen in Laos:

-         Add fresh bean sprouts

-         Add chopped yard-long green beans

-         Add chopped lemon grass

Fry the beef in a wok or large frying pan, without oil, until browned and cooked through. Leave to cool.

Lightly brown the garlic, chili and shallot in a pan over medium heat, again without oil. Pound them together then mix this paste with the meat.  Stir in the fish sauce, lime juice, rice powder. Toss in the Thai basil, mint and scallions and stir. Serve at room temperature.

Prepare the cucumber “boats” and/or separate the iceberg lettuce leaves and place in dish for serving.  Laab is then spooned into the cucumber boats (my children’s favorite!) or wrapped in the lettuce leaves.

Sóen Sâep!

Wishing you Luck and Happiness with a fresh plate of laab gai!

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Cuba: Survival with Passion

June 6, 2011

Dear Friends,

I confess, I love the stories behind a revolution. They are exciting, bold, romantic, epic. They also entail struggle, pain, blood and death.  Unlike wars between nations, revolutions attempt to throw out an old system and replace it with something fresh, more just, more virtuous. Idealism runs rampant until reality sets in and human nature, with all its foibles, takes over and finds itself once again with a system that is flawed, and often as unjust and cruel as the previous one.  Yet through this process, a national fiber is stretched, yanked, distorted, and pounded, until the country re-emerges into a new dawn, and rediscovers who it has been all along.

Dawn over Havana

There is something very distinctive about visiting a country that has lived through a revolution, and even more so when the citizens still remember the event firsthand.  The experience of strife and distress tests the human mettle, and makes those who survive stronger and more keenly focused on life’s priorities and their fundamental cultural values. The end result is a distillation of culture that conveys the soul of the place with more potency–a full embrace of authentic cultural identity.

I found this to be true in Cuba, from which I returned a few days ago.   The island nation exudes a warmth and passion that have clearly been a part of the national fiber since the beginning, but perhaps have become much more powerful over years of hardship.  Here is a people who speak of love freely, who call each other (whether lover, friend or colleague) ‘mi amor,’ who begin to move their bodies the minute they detect a musical beat, and who kiss you on your second encounter.  Feelings are not beneath the surface as they are in many cultures.

In Cuba, expressing emotion is the only way to be, to exist, even when conducting business. They pour their heart into all they do and say. There is a sincerity of purpose and pride that struck me as refreshingly pure. Whether it was the sociologist in charge of the Clinic for the Prevention of HIV/AIDS or Papa Tin who founded the Colmenita project to help children with disabilities become happy, well-adjusted teens, I marveled at the amount of heart every Cuban I met put into to their work.

Children sing and dance at the Colmenita Project

Suffering is no stranger to Cuba–traumatizing events, from the Revolution in 1959 to the Soviet Union’s pull out in 1990, have put this island nation through hell.  Yet that national fiber appears stronger than ever and an indomitable spirit endures—one that loves, dances and sings with renewed gusto.

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Travelers and Hosts: The Best in Us

October 6, 2010

Dear Friends,

Over the years, I have developed a theory: a good traveler makes the very best of friends.  In other words, if you can travel the world comfortably, adjusting good-humoredly to the unexpected, respecting other cultures, tasting new cuisines and dishes, appreciating your hosts, and remaining gracious through discomfort, then you are not only a great traveler, you have proven yourself a fine human being.  You embody all that world religions encourage us to be:  kind, generous, selfless, appreciative of life, and treating others as you would want to be treated.

Traveling involves tasting it all!

I was sharing this theory with a friend recently, and she admitted that she has a similar theory: that good hosts make great friends.  She expanded by saying that there are those who love to host, and those who love to be guests.  Of course, you can enjoy being both. However, a great host is one who puts their guest first, who is ever-aware of others’ needs and graciously fulfills them without interrupting the flow of everyone’s enjoyment.  A great host makes every guest feel special and well-attended to, takes into account any special needs (diets or favorite drinks), and makes sure no one ever feels excluded, weaving them into the conversation with a well-placed question.

A great friend, being helped across a stream, Ait Ben Haddou, Morocco

It wasn’t until after our exchange of theories that I realized that a traveler is essentially a guest, and that my friend and I were simply focusing on two sides of the same equation. This balance of host and guest, traveler and host country, represent the give and take that is essential in all human relations.  We give and we receive, and it is the way in which we do both that demonstrates our care for others—and the quality of our humanity.

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Tribute to the Sands of Egypt

July 12, 2010

In Nubia, with Gracious Host

Dear Friends,

The tale of the Egyptian Prince Tutmosis III and his encounter with the Sphinx of Giza fascinates me.  On a hunting trip in the Valley of the Gazelles some time before his reign, Tutmosis III decided to take a nap to escape the midday sun. He chose the shade below the head (the only visible section) of the Great Sphinx of Giza.  While he slept, the Sphinx spoke to him and told him that, if he dug the Sphinx out of the sand that covered it, he would be assured the throne of Egypt.  So Tutmosis III set to work and excavated the Sphinx, the very first restoration of this site, undertaken circa 1400 BCE. The story of this dream is recounted on the stelae at the Sphinx’s feet.

What captivates me about this tale is the fact that, even in 1400 BCE, the Sphinx and the Pyramids of Giza were already ancient, having existed since Great Sphinx of Giza with Dream Stelae between its Feet2650 BCE, and that the protective layers of desert sand had already buried all but the Sphinx’s head over the preceding 1200 years.

Egypt’s ancient wonders abound, but it is not until you stand within inches of the deeply carved cartouches of Ramses II in Karnak or the stunning turquoise of painted vulture wings on Hatshepsut’s Temple, or the intricate delicacy of King Tutankhamen’s jewelry, that the impossibility overwhelms you.  How can such beauty have survived 2000, 3000, 4000 years? 

Vivid colors of a Vulture's Plumage on Hatshepsut's Temple

Entering the imposing structure of Ramses III Temple, there is a series of chapels to the left.  Little color remains, and the carvings seem simplified, unremarkable.  It turns out, these chapels date to Alexander the Great’s time—circa 332 BCE. Modern, by Egyptian standards!  Yet paling in comparison to the elaborate scenes of battle and power depicted on Ramses III’s own temple walls.

Deep in the Temple of Luxor (circa 1400 BCE), past the small area that once served as a chapel for Roman soldiers during the 3rd century CE, there is a shrine built by Alexander the Great, depicting the Greek king as a pharaoh.  Here, you can stand between the outer wall built by Amenhotep III and the inner wall of the Greek shrine.  Within a couple of feet of each other, the contrast is sharp: over a 1000 years pass from the time the Egyptian outer wall was carved to the time the Greeks erect their shrine. Yet, Alexander the Great’s craftsmen lose this contest: their work appears amateurish at best.

It’s not often that Alexander the Great comes across as lacking accomplishment.  Yet ancient Egypt puts many more modern cultures to shame.  Even the Romans, who seemed to lack the respect and interest Alexander showed Egyptian culture, appear boorish and uncultured in comparison.  The Roman chapel within the Temple of Luxor is made of scavenged temple stones, betrayed by the upside down body parts and images carved on their surfaces.

Image of Ramses III on his Temple

Reflecting on all the perfection that bears tribute to Egypt’s royal ancestors, I can’t help but wonder what we have lost over time in sophistication, technique, and ambition. And I rejoice in the protective benefits of the sands of Egypt—without them, what treasures would have been lost to humankind!

For information on our educational journeys to Egypt, please visit http://www.smithsonianjourneys.org/tours/egyptianodyssey2010/.

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Never a Dull Moment

May 11, 2010

Dear Friends,

When an earthquake occurred in China during students’ spring break, and an Icelandic  volcano spewed ash across European skies, and Greeks threw projectiles on Syntagma Square in Athens, several friends and professional associates asked me the same question: “Why are you in this crazy business?!”

Well, it all harks back to why we list “Never a dull moment” as one of our corporate values.  Those of us who have committed our careers to the world of travel and international education love the ever-changing world in which we live and thrive on its unpredictability, its surprises, its challenges and its mystery.  None of us could survive in clock-watching jobs, where routine is the norm and changes cause great discomfort and anxiety.  Quite the opposite:  we love the dynamism of change, the rewards of evolution, the promise of a different tomorrow—a world in which learning truly never ends.

After 22 years in the educational travel sphere, I sometimes think “I have seen it all.” I couldn’t be more wrong, because no sooner has that thought occurred than I am presented with yet another “first.”  Whether it’s having a group return from Turkey on 9/11 and have to land in Nova Scotia to be accommodated on a Canadian military base, or facilitating the return of stranded travelers during a volcano eruption, or accommodating a request for a wedding ceremony to be performed on our chartered yacht in the Aegean Sea—I am confident now that I will never have seen it all.  And for this, I am eternally grateful.

The fields of educational travel and international education (representing both sides of the Academic Travel Abroad business: tours and study abroad programs) usually attract individuals who are intellectually curious, enjoy challenges, have a sense of exploration and discovery and a deep appreciation for life in all forms.  This rich community is well represented within ATA.

During our Spring Dance Party at my house last Friday, this positive energy and love of life was very apparent!   Our community is diverse (representing not only various states around the country, but also Japan, China, Syria, Iraq, Israel, Italy, France and Panama!), the conversations were animated, and the dancing was energetic and fun.  This is a group that works very hard, yet understands the importance of work-life balance and knows how to relax.

So in the midst of world upheavals, I thank my lucky stars that I work amidst such talented, intelligent and spirited individuals.   Thank you all and may we continue to learn new lessons every day.

 Kate Simpson

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Language: More than a Practical Portal

February 22, 2010

 

Dear Friends,

One of the greatest human urges is to communicate. At an early stage, our toddlers demonstrate the frustration they feel when their meaning or intents are not understood for lack of language skills—sippy cups are thrown to the floor; food is flung from the high chair.  The message is clear: we want to be understood!

So no wonder language, as every human being’s most expedient expression, conveys personalities, cultures, nuances and fundamental values the world over.

As many of you know, Academic Travel Abroad, Inc. is not only an educational travel company; it is also a study abroad organization.  We currently send approximately 1,000 US college students overseas every year to study in China, the Czech Republic, Italy, Spain and Vietnam (and as of this summer, Japan and Syria!) on our CET Academic Programs (www.cetacademicprograms.com).

 CET’s education abroad philosophy is rooted in the value of cultural and language immersion.  It is clear speaking to anyone who has ever lived or studied abroad that immersion—a real break with one’s own cultural environment, contacts and language—brings understanding and broadens horizons. 

So while beginning the learning process early and undertaking a serious commitment to foreign language study is ideal in order to transcend cultural barriers, I firmly believe that the process is valuable at any age and at any level of engagement. 

Embarking on a trip to a foreign land, few dispute the value of picking up a phrase book before departure.  This is a practical step. Yet how many view a look at the language of the destination as an essential part of their introduction to that culture?  As important as the study of the country’s history, society, art, and politics is, a basic introduction to the language can teach us so much.

For example, few written languages paint pictures and convey cultural lessons as plainly as Chinese.  Some characters are logical, with the stone radical associating with hard, strong, fundamental concepts, the heart radical expressing feelings, and the hand radical describing actions and gestures.  Yet other characters betray social preconceptions: peace is a woman under a roof; home is a pig under a roof, precious is jade under a roof… And a woman with a son is just plain good.  It doesn’t take long to realize the rich cultural lessons hidden in every pictogram.

Then there’s French. How many nations boast an Académie Française dating to the 17th century in which “immortals” rule on all matters pertaining to the glory of the language?  Here is a culture that drills its young with daily “dictées” of complex paragraphs to test the subject-verb accords, feminin-masculin mastery and subjunctive conjugations, in addition to requiring excruciating “explication de textes”—pulling apart and analyzing a text, word by word, line by line.  So whether you master the classic lines like plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose (‘the more things change, the more they stay the same”) or the common exclamation ça va pas, non?! (“You are not well, are you?!”), some dabbling in French is not only fun but can reveal much about this rich culture.

On a recent business trip to Japan, I had the good fortune to be accompanied by two fluent Japanese speakers.  On the plane ride over, I asked that they review the basics of polite Japanese phrases for me: from dozo and arigato gozaimashita, to an often-used phrase—dozo yorushuku onegai shimasu.  The latter was translated for me as “please forgive me for any trouble I will ever cause you.” It’s a mouthful, and it’s spoken very rapidly by native speakers, but it is used constantly. To me, it revealed much about the culture I was about to visit. The extreme politesse and consideration the Japanese extend to each other are ubiquitous.

I still remember the delight one of my China travelers expressed when a phrase I had taught her had the desired effect—a smile and a grateful nod from a proud Chinese mother.  “Hen ke ai!”  this American traveler had said, admiring a toddler with rosy cheeks in Shanghai.  “Very cute!”

So next time you’re heading abroad, I encourage you to look at the language as more than a practical portal, but as a window onto greater cultural understanding and meaningful interaction.  As few as three syllables can make the difference between being a passive observer and being an active participant in your discovery of the world.

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The Beauty of Group Travel

December 2, 2009

A Brass Door Knob, Forbidden City, Beijing

Dear Friends,

It’s been a while since my last post.  The fall was busy and marked by a trip to China in October that will go down in my mind as one of the greatest group travel experiences ever. This National Geographic journey started in Beijing and wove its way south through Xi’an, Chongqing, the Yangzi River, the Three Gorges Dam, ending in pulsating Shanghai.  In reflecting on the success of this experience, I concluded that my 23 travelers encountered group travel at its very best and here’s why:

1. Their Openness:  Marcel Proust is known to have said “The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” Throughout our time in China, each and every traveler demonstrated a willingness to see through the eyes of others or even to expand their way of thinking in ways that were unfamiliar to them.

2. Their Sense of Community:  From the very first day in Beijing, our group showed respect and care for each other, exchanging personal thoughts and experiences, maintaining punctuality, watching out for each other in crowds, resetting a bike chain during a circumnavigation of the City Wall in Xi’an, lending a sweater when the weather turned cold in Shanghai, and empathizing when someone’s personal belongings went missing in Yichang.  During breakfasts and free meals, I observed different travelers joining each other at different times, developing new friendships and learning from one another.  Couples welcomed single travelers within their midst, and no group was exclusive.

VIP Access to the Terra Cotta Army

3. Their Cultural Sensitivity:   No aspect of Chinese culture went unappreciated on this trip.  Each traveler expressed awe, curiosity, and genuine respect for all our itinerary presented.  From the serenity of the Confucian Temple in Beijing and the Great Mosque in Xi’an to the animated hacky sack players at the Temple of Heaven and the charming, erudite Mr. Wang ( former Chief Engineer of the Three Gorges Dam Project), our group members captured 100% of each significant moment and encounter.

4. Their Joie de Vivre:  I marveled at the personal stories behind each traveler and how they came to choose a trip to China. Many had overcome sadness and challenges in the year or so before the trip, and despite these (or perhaps because of these), they launched themselves into China with a verve and appreciation for life that was heartening.  Their perspective helped them enjoy themselves to the fullest.

A kindergartener waves her pom at us in Fengdu

5. The Authenticity of the Experience:  A group of individuals this genuine deserves the most authentic and truest of experiences.  I am proud to say National Geographic Expeditions delivered on this promise.  We were the only foreigners to visit Panjiayuan (a Beijing flea market), the only foreigners to eat in many of the local restaurants selected, to gain VIP access to the Terra-Cotta Army Museum, to hear an exclusive briefing by the dedicated Director of Foreign Relations at the Great Mosque in Xi’an, to enter the restricted visitor center led by a senior engineer at the Three Gorges Dam Project, and to play jump rope with kindergartners  and sing songs with retirees in Fengdu.  And all these authentic experiences were augmented by the superb lectures and refined expertise of our Expert, Ken Hammond.

Without a doubt, my fellow travelers on this trip enriched a well-planned, educational itinerary by applying the very best principles of group travel.  With their important contributions, I would venture to say we achieved perfection, a rare and beautiful thing in the world of travel.  I am forever indebted to them.

Kate Simpson

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Going Back: Kinsale, Ireland

August 10, 2009
My daugther Sasha on the bench

My daughter Sasha on the bench

Dear Friends,

Having spent the first half of my life changing homes every two years, there was only one constant place in my world: Folly House, Kinsale, County Cork, Ireland. This was the house my parents bought in 1972 to allow their four daughters to escape the oppression of Algerian summers. This was the house in which we spent innocent summers surrounded by pastures, overlooking the Bandon River, sunbathing on the dry barn’s roof and listening to Billy Joel and The Eagles under the surprisingly hot Irish sun (when it appeared). This was also the house of my parents’ retirement after my father’s career in the US Information Service. Here we spent many a warm, cozy Christmas before peat fires in the cast iron fireplace, played board games on the great oak refectory table, and heard the mysterious sounds of the beloved Folly House ghost late into the night.

A Kinsale Institution: Max's

A Kinsale Institution: Max's

In 1998, we all said goodbye to Kinsale, Folly House was sold, and my parents settled in suburban Maryland to be within reach of their daughters’ care and comfort as life wore down their ageing bodies. Eleven years later, after both my parents had left this world, the four daugthers felt it time to return to Kinsale. Our mission: to commemorate our parents’ lives in the place they loved so much and to dedicate a park bench in their honor.

I had mixed feelings setting out for Kinsale–a place so familiar and yet so distant. I knew one can never go back, never relive the joys of the past. So I set out with measured expectations, keeping in check my hope that it would be, in fact, magical.

As my sisters and I gathered, with several children and one brave spouse, we marveled at the comfort of our fisherman’s cottages overlooking the harbor. We toasted our return as the yachts sailed in past the 17th-century forts guarding the town, we smiled at the delighted giggles of our children playing on the small zip line in the gardens below and we reveled in the familiarity of it all.

Our bench dedication took place in a blustery storm (“ah, sure, it will clear by this evening” had reassured several of our Irish friends when we tried to rethink our plan), where my sister Lisa and I stood with umbrellas, perched on the bench itself, attempting to deliver a commemorative address. The wind caught hold of us at one point and threatened to transport us, Mary-Poppins-like, across the Bandon River. The ceremony ended early and we all headed to the shelter of our cars and the reception at my parents’ good friends, the Doyles.

An evening of poetry readings and addresses followed, with memories being shared liberally of my parents’ joie de vivre, their unmatched hospitality, their devotion to friends and family, and their unfailing respect and love for each other.

The following days, we settled into Kinsale like longtime residents. We met for coffee with Irish friends, we went sailing on the harbor, we ran into people we knew in bakeries and pubs, we took the children into town for “99s” (soft serve creamy ice cream pierced by a Cadbury’s Flake), and we went for a stroll along the Salmon Walk to Summercove.

Yacht in front of Charles Fort

Yacht in front of Charles Fort

One day, sitting perched on a rock above James Fort overlooking both inner and outer harbors, my daughter Sasha remarked “this is so beautiful, Mommy.” I took in the dark blue sea, the sculpted apple-green grass dappled with wild flowers on the hills above us, the rustic grey stones of the fort, and the saturated Irish light and had to agree–yes, this is very beautiful.

In this moment, when my own child stated the obvious, I realized I had never fully appreciated the place of my childhood. I had taken it for granted and made Kinsale a backdrop, rather than a centerpiece.

I had fully expected to close the Kinsale chapter in my life through this one commemorative trip. Yet, I found that, through connecting with old friends, seeing the place through the untainted eyes of my own daughter, I had, in fact, opened a new chapter. Kinsale will always be a part of my fabric, and I now know that I can and want to weave new tales into this tapestry.

Our friend, Mareta Doyle, is chairman of the annual Kinsale Arts Week.  International and local artists of all kinds come to Kinsale to share their talent and enliven the town. This sounds like the perfect enticement to return to Kinsale in summers to come.

As my sisters and I prepared our departure, it became clear that we had come to the same conclusion: we will return–not to commemorate the past, but to make new memories and carry on a family tradition. And if you are ever passing through Kinsale, the “Gourmet Capital of Ireland,” stop by the park on your way out of town, by the “new” bridge, and settle yourself on the only bench there. Take in the beauty of the lush green grass, the wind-bent trees, the deep blue river, and lonely Ringrone tower in the distance. My parents will surely make you feel welcome.

15 Comments | Europe, Ireland, Kinsale, sailing, Scilly, Tourism, Travel, Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by academictravel

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