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Wherever Books Are Sold!Boomer Travel. Food. Laughter. Breaking the Empty Nest Rules!
Your GypsyNesters go to the Guinness Academy in Dublin to learn the ropes – don’t try this at home kids!.. See more of our adventures in Dublin!
Your GypsyNesters go to the Guinness Academy in Dublin to learn the ropes – don’t try this at home kids!.. See more of our adventures in Dublin!
I met the meanest woman in the world on cruise ship. David & I were sitting in a near-empty onboard restaurant after an afternoon cooking class, and had a jovial group of fellow classmates seated with us – new friends from all over the world.
Yes, we were a bit loud.
Yes, we were critiquing the food – we had prepared it, after all – and, I was being exceptionally… CONTINUE READING >>
I met the meanest woman in the world on cruise ship.
David & I were sitting in a near-empty onboard restaurant after an afternoon cooking class, and had a jovial group of fellow classmates seated with us – new friends from all over the world.
Yes, we were a bit loud.
Yes, we were critiquing the food – we had prepared it, after all – and, I was being exceptionally snarky.
The portion that I had created was simply pathetic. Not only was it ugly, it was so poorly put together that it wasn’t possible to transport it from plate to mouth, so tasting wasn’t even possible (likely for the best).
And, yes, we were having a blast.
Don’t believe me? Here’s a tidbit of the class we took:
About three quarters through our meal, a woman appeared at my side. There wasn’t a beat between my looking up to acknowledge her and her spewing out, “You are a really rude person.”
I was floored. Hoping to just make her go away, I looked at her straight in the eye and said, “Thank you,” and turned back to my new buddies.
Everyone had turned to look at me with wide eyes. No one knew how to react; the woman had effectively shut down our fun little impromptu party. Seconds later, I realized she was still standing at my elbow. Stupidly, I looked back at her.
“People like you are why people hate Americans. You are an ugly American.”
Let me tell you, it’s downright mortifying to be called out as an ugly American before a group of new international friends. Mustering up just enough breath to give (what I hoped would be) a dismissive second “Thank you,” I again turned back to our party. Everyone sat stock still – as dumbfounded as I was, unable to respond.
Did she stop there? Not by a loooooong shot.
She went on a long diatribe spelling out my faults. I honestly don’t remember what she said because by this point, I had shut down. I’d never had anything close to something like this happen to me – before or since (this happened two years ago and I’ve just now worked up the nerve to write about it).
So I thanked her again and she finally, mercifully, left. She had run out of awful adjectives.
Our group hung around just long enough to make sure I was okay, but the fun bubble had been burst. David and I walked to the elevator with one of the members of our party. I’ll call him Charles.
Once the doors slid shut, David says to me, “I can’t believe I just sat there like a lump – I was so completely shocked by that woman, I couldn’t open my mouth to defend you. I feel horrible.”
Charles echoed the sentiment. “I’ve never seen anything like that, and I can tell you’re really shaken. I really wish I would have said something.”
It was all I could do at that point not to burst into tears, something that I always do when people are nice to me when I’m upset.
I think I muttered something like “it would have just made it worse.” Which I still firmly believe, but to this day I wish I had gotten in her face. I can never come up with a good zinger when I need it.
After a big ole see-you-later bear hug from Charles, I bolted to our stateroom and had a good cleansing cry. Then David and I tore into Ms. Caustic in that therapeutic way that needs to be done to make ourselves feel better:
We called her names.
We thought up snappy comeback lines (better late than never).
We talked about stalking her and laying some of those snappy lines on her at an opportune time.
We questioned her lineage.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation.
The uneasiness followed me through dinner that night. I fell asleep thinking about it.
The next morning it shadowed me in Beijing and it was even hanging in the back of my mind as David and I raced up the Great Wall.
I had let Ms. Caustic into my head. Why do I allow that?
That evening, we snagged a prime spot in the front of the ship at the huge, forward-facing windows overlooking the port.
Glasses of wine in hand, we chatted with the adorable family at the next table about the incredible things we had seen that day. The Forbidden City, the Temple of Heaven, the Summer Palace – places that we never dreamed we’d see in our lifetime.
The teenagers of the group were dynamic as they excitedly told us of their Beijing adventures and Mom and Dad were grinning from ear to ear.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ms. Caustic plop down nearby.
Not wanting to face her, I turned my attention to the windows, my back to the family and Ms. Caustic.
In the time that I finished my glass of wine (my leisurely sipping had become more like frat house chugging between my nerves and the urge to bolt) she had changed the whole dynamic of the adorable family’s conversation.
Starting in with all of the things she just hated about Beijing, she soon had them agreeing with her. It didn’t take long before the family was sniping at each other.
Ms. Caustic then ratcheted it up a notch. Masterfully, she played this family until the girl and her mother were full-on arguing before making a tearful exit.
Who does this sort of thing? What makes someone like this tick?
My only solace – after two years of mulling Ms. Caustic over – is that she has to have a miserable life.
And, ewwww, what terrible solace to have.
Veronica, GypsyNester.com
YOUR TURN: What DOES make someone like this tick? Have you ever encountered someone like this? Am I a horrible person to take comfort in her misery?
It’s the closest we’ve ever stayed to a smoking volcano!
Follow us as we explore Taormina – a shining village on a hill, a really big, steep hill with amazing sea views.
Breathtaking, and well worth the chance of getting covered in ash!.. CONTINUE READING >>
A big thank you to VBT Bicycling and Walking Vacations for providing this breathtaking adventure! As always, all opinions are our own.
We weren’t exactly sure what to expect when we signed on for a bike tour across Sicily with VBT, but we certainly were pleasantly surprised by our very first day.
We met up with our group in the incredible town of Taormina.
We say incredible mostly for the way that this ancient settlement is perched on the side of Monte Tauro, where it gets its name, but we soon discovered many other attributes that make it worthy of high praise.
Known in Latin as Tauromenium, and founded by the Sicels who gave Sicily its name, Taormina was once one of the island’s most important cities.
It remained so for a millennium because of its strategic position high on a hill, and the nearly impenetrable Saracen Castle guarding it from above.
This kept the pillaging and plundering to a minimum even as the surrounding country changed hands multiple times.
Having just unfolded our legs from the overnight flight from the states, we were more than content to let the biking wait for another day and set out to explore the village on foot.
First and foremost, for any visit to Taormina is a stop at the Ancient Greek Theatre.
It is thought to have been originally constructed around 300 BC as a classical Grecian amphitheater, with the Romans rebuilding it several centuries later during their control of the island.
Most of what we saw after our short walk up to the ruins was the brickwork from the reconstruction, but there is also evidence of marble columns from the Greek architecture still showing through.
No matter who built it, they did it right because it is still in use today for plays and concerts.
A new stage has been set up, and some of the seating refurbished, but essentially the audience sees performances just as they would have ten centuries ago.
We didn’t get to attend a show, but were treated to an extroverted tourist bursting into a Shakespearean soliloquy from the front of the stage.
We hustled up the bleachers to see how the sound carried, and check out the view beyond the stage.
Remarkably, we could hear every word clear up on the top row, and enjoyed it even more with smoke-blowing Mt. Etna providing the background scenery.
From the theater we walked down to Corso Umberto, the main street that runs between the two ancient gates of the city.
The heart of Taormina lies between these portals inside the ancient walls, and the stretch of medieval road thrives as a major destination for tourists from all over the world.
We began at Porta Messina, named because the road leads to the city of Messina, thirty miles or so up the coast, and then made our way through the center of the village toward the opposite gate, Porta Catania, which is named for the city to the south where we landed just a few hours earlier.
The street is lined with several intriguing alleyways made up of stairways leading up or down the hillside, so we wandered up a few, but the views are mostly obstructed by the tightly spaced construction.
Level ground is at a premium, so the buildings are packed in on every available inch.
We did find a few spots where small plazas opened up the feel a bit, the largest being Piazza del Duomo in front of the cathedral. The church is dedicated to the town’s patron saint, Nicholas of Bari, and dates back to the thirteenth century.
The square’s centered around a fountain from 1635 featuring Greek mythological creatures, and the town’s coat of arms, but that is not the main attraction.
That honor goes to the fact that this just happens to be the ultimate location for stunning views of Mount Etna, one of the most active volcanoes in the world, and the highest in Europe.
Coincidence? We doubt it.
Our timing turned out to be about perfect, and we captured the mythical mountain just as the setting sun lit up the tufts of smoke rising from her summit.
No wonder Etna has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
We have learned from experience that after flying across the pond darkness can be detrimental to one’s ability to stay awake.
But nothing conquers jet lag like a true Italian pizza, a glass of vino.
Of course the effect is only temporary, then the two gang up to put even the hardiest traveler out cold.
Not being nearly adjusted to the time change, we awoke the next morning before sunup.
The good news was that this gave us more time to spend in Taormina.
Peering off of our balcony at dawn we found Etna basking in the red glow of sunrise, blowing new puffs of smoke to greet the day.
That inspired us to set out for a morning walk.
The botanical garden, only a few steps from our room at the Hotel Belvedere, was splendid in the crisp air.
The plant selections were beautiful, but we found the odd follies scattered around the park more interesting.
These strange structures were created by Florence Trevelyan Caccioli, an English woman who married the mayor of Taormina in 1890, as a part of her private garden.
The grounds were then donated to the city after she passed away.
Just beyond the monument honoring the fallen soldiers from the First World War, we reached the edge of the garden.
From this vantage point there was a fantastic view of the ancient town of Naxos and the bay below, as well as across the Ionian Sea to the mainland “toe” of Italy’s boot about to kick us on Sicily.
Just the kick we needed, because as much as we were enchanted by Taormina, our time was limited.
We had to board a bus to make our way south and begin the bicycling portion of our Sicilian tour.
That prospect of exciting adventure awaiting us was just enough incentive to tear us away from this beautiful town high on a hill.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
A big thank you to VBT Bicycling and Walking Vacations for providing this breathtaking adventure! As always, all opinions are our own.
DELVE DEEPER:
How did we hang on our bicycle tour? See it from the beginning!
See all about the food in Sicily!
See all of our adventures in Italy!
Wow – what a year! We’re so grateful for tons of travel, the release of Going Gypsy, new friends from all
over the world (that includes YOU!), and a spectacular wedding!
Our most liked photos on Instagram included our African photo safaris in Tanzania and South Africa, our river cruise through Holland and Belgium, and our bike tour in Sicily.
Cheers to 2016 everyone – let’s make it shine!
Wow – what a year! We’re so grateful for tons of travel, the release of Going Gypsy, new friends from all
over the world (that includes YOU!), and a spectacular wedding!
Our most liked photos on Instagram included our African photo safaris in Tanzania and South Africa, our river cruise through Holland and Belgium, and our bike tour in Sicily.
Cheers to 2016 everyone – let’s make it shine!
Does having a small, intimate wedding always result in a stress-free day?
From experience, I can say NO!
David and I had a tiny wedding and we had our fair share of anxious moments and hilarious snafus.
Happily, The Piglet and Frenchie … CONTINUE READING >>
Does having a small, intimate wedding always result in a stress-free day?
From experience, I can say NO!
David and I had a tiny wedding and we had our fair share of anxious moments and hilarious snafus.
Happily, The Piglet and Frenchie broke that mold. They hoped for a calm, joyful day of love, a day in contrast to the crazybusy lives that they as NYC dwellers live – and that’s exactly what they received.
There were no rehearsal dinners, no formal invites, no showers or gift registrations – just two people sharing the love they have for each other.
An elopement of sorts – but with parents and siblings in attendance.
Our younger daughter, Decibel, served as a maid of honor and — as a hair and makeup artist — has a vast knowledge of the matrimonial ropes.
But The Piglet and Frenchie didn’t want a long engagement — they’ve been together for four years and felt that was enough of a wait — thereby alleviating Decibel’s duties as a “traditional” maid of honor.
What she could do was what she does best, create a visually stunning wedding for her sister.
Decibel works with some of New York City’s finest photographers, and hired the best to capture the essence of the happy couple.
And because she knows The Piglet better than anyone (okay, except Frenchie), together they came up with a simple, yet chic look for the big day.
The preparations weren’t completely without tradition.
I got to tag along for some of them; the finding of the perfect dress and, my favorite, getting ready in the hours before the tying of the knot.
To be with my girls in those special moments was pure joy.
Watching Decibel work her magic with The Piglet’s look, then affixing my grandmother’s jewelry in her hair, brought happy tears to my eyes. And though it had been many a year since I’d dressed The Piglet, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to me.
It would have been greedy of me to wish for more than those two hours of laughter, love and — because it was us — goofiness in one day, but there was so much more to come.
Photo: Kimberly Coccagnia
Arriving at City Hall by taxi, The Piglet burst out to find Frenchie and his parents waiting with David.
Frenchie’s mother burst as well – into tears.
It took just one of her should-be patented hugs to have me joining in the waterworks (I had held mine back to plain welling-up until that moment) and Piglet wasn’t far behind.
While standing on on the steps of New York City Hall it occurred to me that the site should be a major tourist attraction (and I’ve seen a lot of tourist attractions!).
I could easily see spending a day people watching on those stairs, eye-stalking the hundreds of happy couples preparing for their nuptials.
But on this day I was too preoccupied with my own happy couple to give the others much heed.
There is quite a bit of waiting involved in a City Hall wedding, but the wait was never dull. All of our senses were completely engaged while reveling in the historic, retro setting.
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| David & Frenchie | The Mommys – still hugging! |
Entering the Hall, The Piglet and Frenchie took a ticket similar to those spit out at the DMV or a deli counter. Then, when the big train station-like panel lit up their magic number, they headed to a counter to submit their paperwork.
Photo: Kimberly Coccagnia
With that squared away, we were led to a large round room to await the big moment in a loose queue of other wedding parties.
It was like a bridal fashion show with the many dresses represented and, of course, I deemed The Piglet’s ensemble the most stunning.
In David and my eyes, there has never been a more beautiful bride.
The Piglet is a modern woman who shuns the notion of being “given away” (rightfully so in my book too!) and, since there was no rehearsal, David was tearfully touched when she asked him to escort her through the door and into the officiant’s office.
Together, they made the few small steps to the front of the room.
In that tiny office, while she laughed and cried at the same time, we watched our over-the-moon-beaming daughter marry the man she loves.
And, in that moment, we gained a son – a man we’ve grown to love as our own.
(I can’t convey my feelings through the written word sufficiently here, but let it be known I’m bawling my eyes out as I type this.)
The ceremony was quick (maybe ten minutes) and it was all it needed to be.
It was perfect.
From City Hall, The Piglet and her Frenchie began their walk — as partners in life, as family, as their own Nation of Two — through the city they love.
Veronica, GypsyNester.com
DELVE DEEPER:
Read the Seven Things I Vow to My First Son-in-law (and the One Thing I Ask of Him!)
Check out The GypsyNesters’ snafu-laden wedding
See why I don’t believe in nagging for grandchildren
Nothing says Holland like windmills, and no place is more windmill laden (there are nineteen!) than the little town of Kinderdijk – so, of course, we had to investigate.Join us as we learn how windmills work, listen to some (very) tall tales, and find out that people actually lived… CONTINUE READING >>
Thanks to Viking River Cruises for inviting us along and providing this adventure through the tulips and windmills of Holland and Belgium with stops in Amsterdam, Kinderdijk, Antwerp, Bruges, Veere, Hoorn, and Arnhem.
Nothing says Holland like windmills, and no place is more windmill laden (there are nineteen!) than the little town of Kinderdijk – so, of course, we had to investigate.
The village sits well below sea level in the Alblasserwaard, a large polder in the southern part of the Netherlands.
The reclaimed land is surrounded by dykes to keep the Lek and Noord rivers at bay, but even with the system of dams and barriers, water must constantly be pumped out.
That is the job of the windmills (and we thought they were just there for their good looks!).
The nineteen that remain are the largest group of the old wind-driven pumps left in the country, making the windmills of Kinderdijk quite the attraction and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The name means children dike, and there is a nice legend to go along with it.
The story says that during the flood of 1421 the Alblasserwaard remained dry, so a man climbed the dyke to see if anything could be salvaged from the floodwaters outside.
After making it to the top, he spotted a cradle floating in the distance and noticed an eerily coordinated cat jumping from side to side, balancing it against the waves.
When the cradle came closer, the man found a baby fast asleep — and perfectly dry inside.
The tale became famous as The Cat and the Cradle and the rest, as they say, is fake history (not sure if the legend inspired Harry Chapin’s famous comeuppance song, but we had it stuck in our heads all day, nonetheless).
The real origin of the name is a whole lot less inspiring:
It is thought to relate to the child labor said to have been used in the construction of the dikes.
Yeah, we get why the cat story is more famous.
Whatever the truth behind the name, the fact is that the system holding back the water is an engineering marvel.
Over half of the Netherlands, which means low country, is below sea level, so pumping water is a never ending enterprise. The Dutch have been experts at controlling water for centuries, dating all the way back to the Middle Ages.
About a thousand years ago, people began building earthen dams and dykes to hold back water from low lying marshland.
But, alas, the barriers that created the dry land, known as polders, couldn’t do the entire job; water would still seep in through the ground.
That’s where the windmills came in, they were used to move water from low lying land up into the rivers, and finally out to the sea.
Yes, UP to the river!
Earlier in the day, from our balcony on the Longship Skadi, we felt the strange sensation of cruising on a river while looking down at all of the houses built below the water level.
How Windmills Work
We began our visit by learning about the mechanics of the mills at the little museum on site.
The design is fairly straightforward, but nonetheless ingenious.
Our guide, Kees, showed us how the wind turns the sail blades, which turn a set of large wooden gears that transfer the motion down a huge oak pillar, then, in turn, turns another wheel to scoop the water up and over the dike into a canal.
Through a series of these canals the water is finally lifted up the level of the river.
From the small museum we walked over to the modern pumping station that has replaced the old mills. Nowadays, several giant Archimedes’ screws do the job of removing the water from the lower ground and sending it on its way in a canal.
Armed with our rudimentary knowledge (enough to really cause trouble if we were somehow put in charge!), we headed inside one of the working windmills for a close up look at the inner workings.
Luckily, there was just enough of a breeze to fill the sails and turn the gears — but not enough to muss up our hair — so we got to see the huge shaft that runs down the center turning.
WATCH VIDEO!: Your GypsyNesters show you how windmills are done! People actually live in them!
Cramped Quarters: People actually live in windmills?
The mills also served as a home for the millers, the caretakers and operators that maintained the vital function of these flood-preventing workhorses. We entered and found rooms that circle around the mechanical assemblies like slices of pie.
On the ground floor the kitchen and main living area fill most of the space, but there was quite a bit of room dedicated to storage and the operation of the pump too.
There was also a bed built into one wall, and we quickly came to see that sleeping space was definitely at a premium.
We climbed up a tiny staircase, actually more of a ladder, to the next level and found that the conical shape of the mill made for even smaller rooms up there.
The children had to pile into one tiny room together, no matter how many there were.
The one we went through was once home to a family with thirteen kids.
Ohhhh, maybe that‘s why this is called Kinderdijk.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
See all of our adventures in Holland!
Thanks to Viking River Cruises for inviting us along and providing this adventure through the tulips and windmills of Holland and Belgium with stops in Amsterdam, Kinderdijk, Antwerp, Bruges, Veere, Hoorn, and Arnhem.
YOUR TURN:
Ever wonder what one looks like inside? People actually live in them!.. See more about Holland’s most windmill-laden town!
Ever wonder what one looks like inside? People actually live in them!.. See more about Holland’s most windmill-laden town!