Last night at the Market Bar in the Ferry Plaza in San Francisco, we were dining among the Finns, so I had to share this story … ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin “Il ya des mains pareilles a des feuille capturees. Et d’autres qui parle sans arret dan leur collerette de rires.” —Jaime Mais, Au crible de…
Remembering a day off the coast of southern Ireland … ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin Gale force winds, rain, twenty-six-foot seas—we’d hit a bit of a rough spot in the weather on the Irish Riviera, the promoters’ somewhat euphemistic appellation for the strip of resort towns—Youghal, Ardmore, Dungarvan, Cobh and Ballycotton—that dot Ireland’s southern coast and draw…
Palm Desert, California: December 22, 2012 ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin Spectacular and panoramic morning at 6:30 a.m. on the balcony of my villa at Palm Desert’s Desert Springs Marriott and here I was getting set to rhapsodize about the snow-dusted San Jacinto Mountains in the distance, the towering palms, the Mary-and-Joseph-gee-whiz-I-can’t-believe-it’s-almost-Christmas baby-blue sky with its little…
Noche de Los Muertos ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin Remembering a dark night in San Francisco … We are pressed, our backs to the wall, in Balmy Alley, a bottleneck of a back street in San Francisco’s Mission District, as the dead drift by. Skeletons on stilts, in bridal gowns, playing drums in steel bands—Los Muertos, The…
Time Traveling through the Perseid Shower ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin “Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise again in light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” –Sarah Williams It’s August; the Perseid Shower is just about due, and I am time traveling again. Ever since humans…
Embracing Fat Tuesday ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin NEW ORLEANS — PINOCCHIO zooms by on roller skates, thin, hairy legs protruding from green lederhosen. Three Elvises swivel past, hips rotating like long-playing records. A besequined, masked stranger raises his wine glass and blows me a kiss. Scandalous. Ridiculous. Crazy. Taboo. It’s Fat Tuesday – Mardi Gras, the…
The Italian Masseuse ©Linda Watanabe McFerrin The woman’s hands were huge. Or so it seemed as I lay in my skimpy paper underpants, standard issue at the thermal spa center in Santa Cesarea Terme, a tiny town on the coast of the Adriatic Sea, in Puglia, at the absolute tip of the high heel of…
From the Travel Notebook: I’m back in Palm Desert again. I love deserts largely because they never cease to amaze me. Yesterday, for example, it snowed … just northwest of Palm Springs. It hasn’t snowed here for ten years. The past couple of days I’ve been spending my time in the outdoor pools because even…
Noche de Los Muertos We are pressed, our backs to the wall, in Balmy Alley, a bottleneck of a back street in San Francisco’s Mission District, as the dead drift by. Skeletons on stilts, in bridal gowns, playing drums in steel bands—Los Muertos, The Dead—proceed in almost single-file procession through a cramped alleyway that feels…
Looking forward to traveling with Maureen again. Tony won’t be with us, but he is very much alive. “Tony Wheeler is dead.” The rumors, it seems, have been circulating for years. And while Wheeler, founder, along with wife and travel partner Maureen, of Lonely Planet Publications — the largest travel guidebook publisher in the world…
