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Wherever Books Are Sold!Boomer Travel. Food. Laughter. Breaking the Empty Nest Rules!
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Seemed strange to us that this little burg of 1,200 people would host a world renowned magic festival, but there was a lot we didn’t know! CONTINUE READING >>
Seemed strange to us that this little burg of 1,200 people would host a world renowned magic festival, but there was a lot we didn’t know! See all about Magic Week here: https://www.gypsynester.com/magic.htm
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Cloud Gate. This amazing piece of art is known as “The Bean” for its kidney like shape. But this is no ordinary legume. Over forty feet high and… CONTINUE READING >>
Cloud Gate. This amazing piece of art is known as “The Bean” for its kidney like shape. But this is no ordinary legume. Over forty feet high and sixty feet long, this is one big bean. One hundred and ten tons of pure polished steel. For more about The Bean: https://gypsynester.com/chicago.htm
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Join us on our whirlwind tour of Chicago, home of America’s Tallest Skyline. View the Windy City’s grandest buildings, catch a reflection in Cloud Gate and see the beautiful (and huge!) Buckingham Fountain at Grant Park lit up in red at night! Did you know that Chicago has a building so large it has its own zip code?… CONTINUE READING >>
News reports of The Windy City buried under two feet of snow made us think back to sunnier days last summer when we blazed through Chicago on a whirlwind tour.
The City On The Lake may be third largest in the country, but we can’t think of another town that comes close in the nickname department, or for so many fun things to do!
Chi-town is most famously known as Windy, but supposedly that moniker is not harkened from the breezes blowing off Lake Michigan, but from the hot air billowing out of the mouths of politicians.
Another Chicago handle, The Second City, is often mistakenly referred to its population.
The name actually stems from the rebuilding of the city after the famous fire. But whatever you call it, Hog Butcher for the World, City of Big Shoulders, The City That Works, there was a whole lot to see, so we jumped right in.
The Field Museum is located downtown in the Museum Campus Chicago along the lake shore, a good place to start.
Over twenty-one million specimens are in the museum’s collection, but only a fraction of those are on display at any given time.
One prized possession always out to greet visitors in the main hall is Sue, the largest and most complete Tyrannosaurus skeleton anywhere.
Sue is one big girl, covering forty-two feet from head to tail, still looking good for her age at sixty-seven million years young.
The Chicago skyline boasts four of the six tallest buildings in America.
The Willis Tower, better known as The Sears Tower, is the nation’s highest skyscraper, joined by The Trump Tower at second, The Aon Center stands in fifth place and The John Hancock Center sixth.
The Chicago River runs through the heart of downtown and there were several boats willing to take us out on a guided architectural tour.
A relaxing cruise and the scoop on America’s tallest downtown, heck yeah.
Beats hoofin’ it on the streets on a busy weekday, dodging businessmen and cars. Veronica’s father, a native Chicagoan, had warned us to watch out for locals behind the steering wheel – he’s convinced they aim at pedestrians for sport.
The sky-piercing giants weren’t the only buildings that caught our interest. The enormous Merchandise Mart stands only eighteen stories high, but it is one of largest buildings in the world.
With over four million square feet of floor space, its so big it has its own ZIP code.
The Marina City complex also stood out on the north side of the river as we drifted by. The round residential towers look like something out of The Jetsons.
Built in the early sixties, these twin high-rises were billed as a city within a city that included a theater, gym, swimming pool, ice rink, bowling alley, stores, restaurants and the namesake marina.
The first nineteen floors are an exposed spiral parking lot with forty two floors of modern living on top of that.
We might have caught a glimpse of George walking Astro on a conveyor belt off a fifty-ninth floor balcony.
Back on dry land, we headed for Millennium Park to see Cloud Gate.
This amazing piece of interactive art has been nicknamed “The Bean” by folks of Chicagoland for its kidney-like shape.
But this is no ordinary legume.
At over forty feet high and sixty feet long, that’s one big bean.
One hundred and ten tons of pure polished steel.
And when we say polished, we mean polished to a blinding gleam. The Cloud Gate has a buffed mirror-like surface that is completely irresistible.
We, and every other person that sees it, had to go up to it, stare at it, and especially touch it. The underside arches up in the middle, just enough to walk underneath, so we proceeded into the belly of the bean.
Cloud Gate’s designer / artist, Anish Kapoor, installed a treat for those of us daring enough to venture directly under the giant pod, a concave indention in the surface that makes reflections go all-fun-house-mirror.
The Bean’s belly button is called the Omphalos, Greek for navel. It’s mesmerizing, and impossible to keep from poking a finger into, but all of that touching means a crazy amount of fingerprints.
To make sure everyone gets a clear reflection, the bottom part of the bean is wiped down with window cleaner twice a day. Twice a year the entire sculpture gets a thorough cleaning with detergent.
The design is meant to still be reflecting a thousand years from now. Then we really would see George Jetson, probably sticking his finger in the Omphalos.
Buckingham Fountain dominates Grant Park, known as Chicago’s front yard.
The fountain has been blasting out its million and a half gallon capacity since 1927.
Like a Midwestern Old Faithful, every hour on the hour one-hundred-ninety-three jets shoot water skyward up to one-hundred-fifty feet high.
We elected to wait until dark to catch the show, since colored lights are added to the extravaganza after sundown, and made it just in time for the evening’s final fluid fling at ten o’clock.
While we were walking up we heard music start to build, and then gushing water, bathed in bright red lights, leapt into the air. The spectacle went on for twenty minutes, so we had plenty of time to walk around the fountain and check out every angle.
Later we learned that when Route 66 was built from Chicago to Los Angeles, Buckingham Fountain was designated as the official starting point.
No doubt a lot of kicks to be gotten along the way to the end at the Santa Monica Pier but it seems we found more than our share right there in The Windy City.
Our time in Second City was second-to-none, and on our second day we attended a Cubs game.
The Cubs gifted us with a winning game and the crowd was joyous. Maybe a bit too joyous, as we were making wagers on which fellow passenger was going to hurl up his celebratory beer on the EL taking us back to our hotel.
We were packed in pretty tight, and that wouldn’t have been a pretty sight.
Luckily no one won that wager, making it even easier for us to agree with Francis Albert Sinatra when he called Chicago “My Kind of Town.”
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
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The Chicago skyline boasts four of the six tallest buildings in America. The Willis Tower, better known as The Sears Tower, is the nation’s… CONTINUE READING >>
The Chicago skyline boasts four of the six tallest buildings in America. The Willis Tower, better known as The Sears Tower, is the nation’s highest skyscraper, joined by The Trump Tower at second, The Aon Center stands in fifth place and The John Hancock Center sixth. For more: https://www.gypsynester.com/chicago.htm
Visit our GypsyNester YouTube Channel!
From the moment we crossed on to Galveston Island, Texas, Glen Campbell’s voice was stuck in our heads. We didn’t even know the words past “Galveston, Oh Galveston,” but that didn’t stop the tape loop in our craniums. Once we found our campground and parked BAMF, we got to Googling and found a copy of the song to relieve our brains. Thank you “The Glen Campbell Good Time Hour” YouTube page!Jimmy Webb wrote the song during a visit to the island, conjuring up the story – a Spanish-American War soldier dreaming of his girl back home in Galveston – while sitting… CONTINUE READING >>
From the moment we crossed on to Galveston Island, Texas, Glen Campbell’s voice was stuck in our heads.
We didn’t even know the words past “Galveston, Oh Galveston,” but that didn’t stop the tape loop in our craniums.
Once we found our campground and parked BAMF, we got to Googling and found a copy of the song to relieve our brains. Thank you “The Glen Campbell Good Time Hour” YouTube page!
Jimmy Webb wrote the song during a visit to the island, conjuring up the story – a Spanish-American War soldier dreaming of his girl back home in Galveston – while sitting on the beach.
He chose that time period because of its importance in the city’s rich history. With the song still ringing in our ears, we mounted up on our trusty two-wheeled steeds and headed out for a first hand look at that history.
The story of a seafaring town begins at the harbor, so did we. A natural haven for ships, the port was first ruled by pirates.
After helping Andrew Jackson defend New Orleans in The War of 1812, pirate Jean Lafitte set up shop on Galveston Island. He declared himself the head of the government of his new pirate kingdom, Campeche. Arrrgh! That had to be a wild thing to behold.
In 1821, the United States Navy ran Lafitte off and the newly liberated Mexican government officially established The Port of Galveston. Mexican rule was short lived, as The Republic of Texas broke away in 1836 and used Galveston as their major naval base and briefly it was the capital of the republic.
When Texas joined the Union, the U.S. Navy took over this important strategic spot.
Throughout the 1800s Galveston grew to be one of America’s busiest ports. With all of this hustle and bustle, a booming town sprouted up.
The area near the harbor known as The Strand became the city’s main business center, so active it was known as the “Wall Street of the South.”
By the twentieth century prostitution and ignoring prohibition had given Galveston a new moniker, “Sin City of The Gulf,” and things were wild once again. The townsfolk seemed to embrace the misconduct, referring to their island as the “Free State of Galveston.”
The Strand is now one of Galveston’s six historic districts, and is the entertainment hub of the city. Bars, clubs, restaurants and, of course, the ever present crap shops make it more Bourbon Street than Wall Street, perhaps proving that wild is its natural state.
One big reason for the change in The Strand’s business focus was The 1900 Storm when Galveston was nearly destroyed. This hurricane was the deadliest in American history, a sad tally that holds to this day. Our next stop was the memorial for this disaster.
David Moore sculpted the ten foot tall bronze statue in memory of the over six thousand that perished. Titled “The Great Storm,” the monument was unveiled on the hurricane’s 100th anniversary in 2000.
From the memorial, we decided to check out the remaining damage from the most recent storm to batter the island, Hurricane Ike. Even though the day was foggy and cool, a ride along the beach is always high on our agenda.
We rode along the huge seawall that was built after the 1900 tragedy, so when Ike roared ashore in 2008 most of the damage was confined to beachside structures. The Flagship Hotel, which sat out over the water, still stands in ruins and many of Galveston’s famous piers are sadly gone forever, but most of the damage has been cleared or rebuilt.
The waterfront businesses tucked safely behind the seawall all seem to have come back, one in particular caught our eye. Salsas proudly advertised “WELCOME CHEERLEADERS BALL HIGH THURSDAY NIGHT.”
Not wanting to know what the sign was referring to, we declined the invitation. Bringing “Sin City of The Gulf” back, we suppose.
Our ride continued through the East End Historic District at the center of the island. There are several stalwart structures that have survived many a storm tucked away there, perhaps the most stunning being The Bishop’s Palace.
This ornate Victorian house, built in 1887, was originally known as Gresham’s Castle, after the first owner, Walter Gresham.
In 1923, the Catholic Diocese of Galveston bought the house, located next door to Sacred Heart Church, and used it as the bishop’s residence. The Galveston Historical Foundation provides guided tours on weekends, but we made due with peeking in the windows
A much less famous home in the district tickled us more than any million dollar mansion could. Attached to a three pawed wooden dog out front, a sign had been erected: “Reward $50 For Dog’s Paw / $500 For Hand of Thief.”
Wanting to be a part of justice, Texas style, we kept an eye peeled for a wooden paw, or better yet, the thief of the wooden paw the rest of the way.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
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Perhaps the coolest thing about Mustang Island is the swarms… CONTINUE READING >>
Perhaps the coolest thing about Mustang Island is the hard packed beaches. The sand is so solid that we could ride our bikes right along the water’s edge, actually in the water sometimes. A good part of the island is state park, so the shoreline is undeveloped and free from tourist traps. It was great! We rode for miles, dodging the washed up jellyfish and swarms of seagulls.
For more: https://www.gypsynester.com/of.htm
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Join us in Vermont in the wintertime – quaint and lovely. We survived skiing – all limbs intact – ate at two diverse eateries and stayed at a charming lodge.The quaintness factor continued to increase the entire trip. So much so that when we turned off the main road in Vermont we were immediately greeted by a picture perfect covered bridge over a snowy stream… CONTINUE READING >>
Most years we manage to miss winter altogether. Since we are up north this season, we decided to make the best of it.
Christmas time in New York and some quality time with the offspring. Because we had heard it’s such an NYC thing to do, a quick getaway trip to the mountains in Vermont sounded like a fine idea. Something romantic for our anniversary.
Going north on the Old Merritt Parkway out of the city Veronica noticed that as we crossed from New York to Connecticut, officially into New England, things instantly turned quaint.
The quaintness factor continued to increase the entire trip.
So much so that when we turned off the main road in Vermont, just past a “Moose Crossing” sign (Veronica immediately began muttering about how moose don’t really exist), we were greeted by a picture perfect covered bridge over a snowy stream.
Vermont is famous for these bridges, having more covered bridges per square mile than any other place on Earth. This was the Hall Bridge, also known as Osgood Bridge of Bellows Falls.
Turns out that this “historic” bridge is really a reconstruction, since back in 1980 some doofus with a thirty ton load of rocks tried to drive over the century old original and ended up in the middle of Saxtons River.
Two years later this replica was built to the exact details of the original, right down to having a team of oxen move it into place. Vermonters are serious about their covered bridges.
Got us to wondering, why are the bridges covered? Well, it seems that an exposed wooden bridge will succumb to the harsh Vermont elements in about ten years, but if it is covered, the structural beams are protected and the lifespan is increased eight to ten times. Plus, they look quaint.
Speaking of quaint, a few miles further up State Route 121 the pavement abruptly ended. Google maps didn’t bother to mention this little detail and, call us wacky, we generally don’t expect state highways to be dirt.
That’s a bit too quaint for our liking.
The pavement reappeared and we arrived safely at our destination of Manchester, Vermont, a burg of about four thousand folks that dates clear back to 1761. One might use a certain “Q” word to describe this village tucked away in a Green Mountain valley, but let’s go with charming instead.
At the Olympia Lodge, “The motel that feels like an inn,” our innkeeper Trish checked us in and gave us the scoop on the area.
In the course of our chatting she told us how she had come up here a few years ago to escape Brooklyn with her husband and three kids.
Now they are living the Vermont lifestyle with a real GypsyNester spirit, even though their kids aren’t yet grown.
Once we had settled in we decided to check out the town. This is a year-round resort area.
Hiking, fishing and camping in the summer, spectacular foliage in autumn and snow skiing in the winter months. Shops, restaurants and inns cater to all of these events.
Manchester has also become a bit of a shopper’s Mecca with outlets stores popping up all over. Sort of like high end crap shops.
Instead of jackalopes and cedar outhouses they have Brooks Brothers and Kate Spade. Not our cup of tea, but our exploratory tour did reveal a very interesting choice for the evening’s repast, the Ye Olde Tavern. When Trish back at the lodge also highly recommended it, our plans were set.
Built in 1790, the Ye Olde Tavern really is old, with or without the “e.” Originally as The Stagecoach Inn, then as Lockwood’s, Thayer’s and finally The Fairview Hotel, the building accommodated tired and thirsty Vermonters until closing down in 1904 due to losing its license to sell “spirituous beverages.”
When electricity made it to these parts in 1924, the olde inn was renovated and reopened as a hotel and antique shop. Another extensive restoration took place in 1975, and it became the Ye Olde Tavern.
Obvious care has been given to retaining the original look and feel of the colonial structure with antique furnishings, a blazing hearth and wavy window panes.
The doorways and floorboards slant in wonderful, uneven chaos from centuries of settling. Some people might even use a certain word to describe it, but we’ll go with historic.
When a gentle snowfall began it seemed like the icing on the cake for this magical evening. Well almost, it was our anniversary so some real cake was called for.
What better way to have our cake (but not to eat it too) than flaming? So to top off our venison and Yankee Pot Roast we ordered up the Mocha Chocolate Bombe.
Ah yes, cocoa flavored cake, mocha crème and Belgium chocolate ganache doused with Gran Marnier and set ablaze. Happy anniversary baby, got you on my mi-hind! OK, OK, we won’t sing.
The next day we hit the slopes at the nearby Bromley ski area. The previous night’s blanket of snow made for nearly perfect conditions.
We noticed a curious thing while riding up on the lift – some sort of tubes going down the mountain. They looked like water slides, only much more insane.
Turns out Bromley is also a year-round playground. In the summer it becomes Sun Mountain Adventure Park.
The tubes are The Alpine Slide, the only triple, and one of the longest cart slides in the world. Maniacs actually ride tiny carts down these tubes.
There is also a water slide, Vermont’s biggest of course, and if neither of these are crazy enough, there’s The Sun Mountain Flyer. A 2,400 foot zip line flying through the forest. Makes skiing seem downright safe to us.
Schussing concluded, all limbs intact, we stumbled upon someone’s great idea, a soup shack right outside the parking lot of the ski area.
Smokin’ Bowls features organic home-made soup served up in Mason jars, the perfect warm up after a day on the slopes. To die for. David had the chowder and Veronica happily sipped on tomato parmesan bisque.
On our way back down to The Big Apple, via paved roads this time, we drove through several picturesque mountain hamlets and passed a couple more covered bridges. Quai… OK, I won’t go there.
We also saw a few more “Moose Crossing” signs which really got Veronica going. She has now been to any number of places that claim to have moose running rampant, but has yet to see hide nor hair of Bullwinkle.
Whenever she asks the locals about the creatures, they try to explain that moose are shy, or only come out early in the morning, or it’s the wrong time of year or any number of other excuses which she has now dubbed “moose-cuses.”
Personally, I’ve seen moose, but only in Alaska, so I do have to wonder… maybe they put up these signs just for the tourists.
Maybe they think they’re quaint.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com