Bura9

Went on one of those 12 day cruises on Princess Cruise lines. Yeah, it was touristy..but it was easy enought slipping away from the crowds, especailly if you didn’t contract with the services offered on board (whose prices were jacked up) and tried to contract with the natives on your own. I’d gladly do it all over again. A lot of sights to see and take in. Went fly-fishing with the family over in British Colombia when we stopped in at Skagway (one of those off-the-ship contracts I’d mentioned). Lots of white-water rafting and horsback riding in Denali National Park (though I would not have dragged the family to that last thing if I’d known that a horse and rider were attacked the previous day by a female grizzly protecting her cubs).
There is no place Alaska and , yeah the cruise line method is a bit extreme, but it’s well worth the money and time.
Next time around, I’d like to go via the smaller ships (50 or so folks) so that you can sail up smaller inlets and rivers..

Go there in July/August. Less folks, cheaper prices, friendlier natives, much slower pace. You want to mimimze sleep time to maximize relaxation time. Rent a moped or Vespa. It’s a fun place to drive around, although those mopeds’ noise level gets to be a bit of a pain. I’ve never been at a place where you can so easily relax. Rockefeller had it right when he tried to buy the whole island.

What other National Park offers:
1) Tent camping 100 feet from a gorgeous beach
2) Braying wild donkeys to wake you up in the morning
3) Tarantulas right by your tent eliminating all flys and biting bugs
4) Mongooses standing sentry by your tent, waiting for some freee handouts
5) Cheap rum by the liter at the campground store.
6) Access to one of the most beautiful beaches in the Caribbean, right next to one of the most exclusive hotels (whose beaches, while stunning, can’t compare to your freebie beach)

Simply a gorgeous place.

From a walking tour of the Princeton U. campus, where you can rub against those high SAT-ers and priveleged students to the browsing through used cd’s at Princeton Record Exchange and occassional stops at the various coffee houses or pubs, a day in Princeton is worth a trip from Philly or NYC. I loved Princeton 12-15 years ago when it was bit more edgy. Now, it’s cleaned up to a Disney spic ‘n span. Folks, in general, are not too friendly. Must be all the big thoughts they’re thinking. Be ignorant when going around campus and just walk on in to buildings you find interesting. In most cases, you won’t be stopped or refused. You’ll get a better idea of the happenings. I’ve visited Yale, Harvard, Duke, UNC, Cornell and all the other top ten beautiful college campuses in the USA. Still find Princeton to be the most attractive.

Stayed here twice, once to get on a ferry to Corfu (well, Athens really), the other to go to Split, Croatia. My ferry destinations were fabulous. Bari. A place created to suck you dry of money. Everything you did here you paid for, including some of the seats in the public square. It’s a necessary evil you go through to get from the train station (i think “Waiting for Godot” was based on that “fun” spot) at Bari to the ferry. You can;t even time your train arrival and ferry departure such that your stay there is less than 8 hours. The fix is in. My suggestion. Buy lots of water and food packages BEFORE you get on the train. Otherwise, be prepared to go through your travel budget a lot quicker than you’d anticipated.

Not as pretty as most of the other large Italian cities, Naples offers you an intense experience. The beauty is not in the city; you’ll have ot take a car or a boat for that. But if it’s memorable experiences you’re after, I can’t think of a better place than Naples, the most African of Italy’s big places. Put your wallet in your front pocket and then your hand in that pocket and then head off, in any direction. The food is heavier and more tomato-laden than up North but it is delicious. Folks are quite a bit more intense even though the sun overhead is beating you to a slow-moving pulp.

Lived in Jersey in my formative years, when Bruce still actually dropped by the Stone Pony and Asbury Park was shady. And I’m not talking about trees. Best way to see the Shore is a long leisurely drive down Route 9. You should hit Atlantic Highlands first and just drive slowly. Each town is different and offers you an alternate take on Jersey. Cops in some of the places are just a bit tight; Deal, Loveladies, and even Cape May. (Has got to be about the amount of money in those towns). Take at least a week for the trip. Don’t make reservations; some place is always available as long as your standards are flexible. A buddy and I slept one night in the Little League dugout in Seaside Park (Kids playing that day woke us up with cries of “Hey, there’s hippies in our dugout.” Never been called that before or since.) Though Bruce sings about sleeping “underneath the boardwalk”, if he was referring to an all-night snooze, I would not recommend it. Quite a few seedy characters and then there’s always the local gendarmarie to poke you along. By the end of your trip at the very tip of Cape May, you should be coated with sand and jsut a bit burnt. If not, you’ve done the Shore trip wrong and, yes, you have to go to the beginning and start over again.
One summer I made it half-way down from Atlantic Highlands to Surf City with a buddy and 2 bicycles (the peddling kind). Great way to do it but guys we met were a lot more impressed than the girls we met, no matter how we regaled the latter with stories. Biking just doesn’t leave you looking clean and appealling I guess.

At the Chateau Frontenac, the castle’s windows hinge in while the wind blows in from the St.Lawrence flowing past you. It’s that summer of living on ice cream and chocalate kisses. the hotel was a splurge, no doubt, but worth fo the view, the clean sheets and that smile yuo refused to wipe off your mouth. You said this was the place that we’d culminate. And so did, later walking down for a well-deserved load of a breakfast in that glass enclosed terrace. You poked at my orange slices and ripped one from my mouth when your lips pressed hard against mine. Table almost toppled. And then you laughed. That deep laugh. The laugh that tells me we’ll be making reservations at the Chateau. Soon.

Crusing the meadering Magistrala Highway from Split down to Dubrovnik, at several points you’ll spill into the interior, thinking you won’t be seeing the beautiful Adriatic, but rather, some boring rockpiles and windswept fields. One such foray inland will pull you a village called Ston.

Stop there for a feast of Mussels.
Go the Captain’s restaurant, located right by the water. you sit. You order. The waiter dives into the water. Comes up with mussels still spitting out water. You drink. He shucks. You eat. He waits for the deserved and generous tip. You squeeze lemons on the mussels, on your selves, on the funny-voiced Germans next to you. More wine. More mussels. Wipe your face. Get into the car and drive onto Dubrovnik, a fine-voiced burp being your exit and retreat from Ston.

Be prepared to be taking deep breaths. You approach the island by sailing into the center of the submerged valcano cone, the white town blinding you from on high. Climbing up to the town, short breaths are suggested. Looking down from the top of the town to the harbor below and the sea around you, deep breaths are mandatory. Black sand beaches on the other side of the island, constant cooling winds, you’re surely in some form of Paradise. Then you see all of the tourists and you scurry away in search of a place for quiet contemplation and staring.

Absolutely unbelievably gorgeous. A permanent memory burn.