Category: Islands

ALCATRAZ & A PARALLEL UNIVERSE

2/18/2016

Eight prisoners either drowned or were killed during attempted escapes from the Rock.

The Rock. Uncle Sam’s Devil’s Island. Hell on Earth.

Call it what you will, the infamous 22 acres of bay front property called Alcatraz was once home to the most incorrigible of U.S. criminals; and home to a parallel universe even Mulder and Scully would have found very intriguing.

HERE'S TO ANOTHER TWO YEARS!

7/2/2014

Two years! That’s 24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, 403 posts.

That’s right. Today marks exactly two years for A Place Called Roam; by design, a travel blog, but if you’ve been reading between the lines for the last two years, by default, it’s my lifeline to understanding where I’ve been and where I’m going. Thanks for listening. I need all the help I can get!

I’ve never been sixty (and then some) before; never been retired before, either. My life has always been filled to the brim with purpose, kids, chaos.

I’m evolving, again, morphing into the new me, shedding my skin (alas, not nearly as effectively as my younger self did) along with the kids and the chaos. It’s been as liberating as it has been frightening.

A MIGHTY OAK

12/12/2013

I find it difficult to truly wrap my brain around the passage of a thousand years. Whole civilizations have come and gone in that short span. I certainly couldn’t wrap my arms around that number when it came to a mighty oak in southwest Ireland’s Killarney National Park. It looked to be a thousand years old, which is certainly within the realm of possibility when it comes to old oaks, although the venerable tree wasn’t giving away anything but acorns and a little shade.

Wow, with an oak this size for a background, I actually look pretty tiny/skinny/svelte/petite!

WHEN IT COMES TO TRAVEL, IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE

11/13/2013

Too much travel and I have a hard time calming the monkeys!

Just hanging out!

Actually, too much caffeine has the same effect.

Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of the mind monkeys; those thoughts that collect in our craniums and then take off like a bunch of rhesus monkeys swinging through almost every hour of the day, touching on dozens of ideas that just end up scattering across all those time zones that come with travel.

Hey! I’m not monkeying around here; Buddha, maybe, but not me.  He gets all the credit for coming up with the ‘monkey mind’ metaphor. I’m just the guinea pig, or should I say flying monkey, trying to cope.

On the other hand, Colonel Tooey gets most of the credit for the real monkeys I saw freely running around central Florida on one tiny island. Those monkeys are coping very well; much better than mine. After all, Florida is the closest thing to a jungle in North America.

HIKING OAHU'S DIAMOND HEAD MOUNTAIN

11/7/2013

I realized earlier this week, right after Day Light Savings kicked in and darkness started descending at 4:30 in the afternoon (bummer!) that not too long ago, Jimmy and I were toughin’ it out in magnificent Maui during the first week of November.

It was heavenly!

The best I can do now is to blog about Maui.  One of my favorite quotes (Gandhi, you’re the man!) goes something like this: Thoughts become words, words become actions, actions become habits, habits become values, values become your destiny. Heavy stuff!

Thus, I am destined for the shores of Maui, one way or another, given Maui is consuming my thoughts. It’s time to put my thoughts into words, my words into action!

TIME STANDS STILL AT IRELAND'S RATHBAUN FARM

8/19/2013

It's still hard to believe the 2 feet of authentic thatching keeps this cottage dry.

It was one of those places that whispered of long ago, when life was simple, as in rural, where man lived and died on a patch of land he worked for a lifetime. This particular patch of land was as much a part of the family as the generations that had been born and raised in the two-hundred-year-old thatched white cottage at the center of the Connelly family farm.

FEEL THE BEAT OF CELTIC CULTURE AT KILKENNY'S KYTEKER'S INN

8/5/2013

I often wax eloquent about my travel destinations in terms of the visual vistas I experience, particularly given my penchant for photography. Ireland was no exception.

There was no denying the breathtaking magic of Connemara’s Kylemore Abbey when I first set eyes on this beauty by the lake; I’ll always associate Dublin with the whimsy of her colorful Georgian doors in Merrion Square; and needless to say, Ireland’s Cliffs of Moher were a spectacular natural wonder.

All in all though, it was a venue rather than a vista that resonated for me the most when it came to this beautiful Emerald Isle;

Yep, those stones are 750 years old and counting.

a venue as Irish as the charming lad responsible for our “Irish Beats” session as we learned how to play Ireland’s national drum, the bodhran (pronounced bow-rawn).

7 REASONS TO KISS IRELAND'S BLARNEY STONE

7/30/2013

I’ve kissed my share of frogs in my time; sealed a few letters with a kiss over the years, too; but never in my lifetime (that is until my recent trip to Ireland) have I had the chance to bend over backwards and kiss the Blarney Stone (it was a dizzying experience!).

Not my best side when it comes to pictures.

I know you’re itching to ask the obvious. What’s all this baloney about blarney, anyway?

THE CLIFFS OF MOHER, CLARE COUNTY, IRELAND

7/18/2013

I was ten, maybe eleven, the summer I remember slipping away on my bike for hours at a time. A favorite destination was a rolling meadow filled with bike trails that cut a narrow swath through the wild wheat that grew there with abandon.

Time stood still on those days when I heeded the call of adventure with like-minded friends or my sisters. There was nothing more liberating than the sun on my face, the wind in my hair and the smell of my world ripe with wonder.

Fifty years later, I’d traded my bike for a tour bus, my wonder-lust for wanderlust; but there was no denying time stood still again as Ireland’s Cliffs of Moher filled every inch of the summer day spread so majestically before me.

300 million year-old river channels cut through the Namurian shale and sandstone called the Cliffs of Moher.

GUINNESS STOREHOUSE, DUBLIN, IRELAND

7/17/2013

We planned our visit to Ireland’s number one tourist attraction for early Sunday morning, our first full day in Ireland, hoping to beat the crowds. It was obviously a morning for firsts; never before in my sixty-plus years have I washed down breakfast with a pint of Guinness. Fortunately, it was 5 o’clock somewhere in the world!

Yes, this is a repeat picture. It so encompasses the fun of my trip to Ireland.

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