Lunch one day, dinner the next. Photo courtesy Dennys.

In spite of a menu that includes a 770 calorie omelet, a cheeseburger with 1810 mgs of salt and a key lime pie with 87 grams of carbohydrates, and a predominance of offerings that are just over-the-top fattening, there are a few selections for the health-conscious. Which is how I wound up eating a fresh, filling and healthy chicken spinach salad (hold the bacon).  Once for dinner and the next day for lunch.

I remembered this travel dining dilemma today while attending a lunch at New York City’s  Grand Hyatt Hotel. I’d been invited me to a presentation about the hotel’s new “food philosophy” and its agreement with the Partnership for a Healthier America to serve meals that will be better for guests, for the community and for the planet.

“It shouldn’t be hard to eat healthy on the road,” Dr. James Gavin, the chairman of the partnership said. And he’s right. But as a frequent traveler I can testify it is. Which is why when a hotel chain puts it all out there, with a legal contract-sized list of commitments for how it is going to redefine its menu, it is time to raise a glass and say “cheers!”

The Greenwich Hyatt restaurant. Photo courtesy Hyatt.

Here are some of the ways that the menu at Hyatt will change. Let’s start with the kids menu. I have been known on special occasions to take my kids to eat at the beautiful atrium restaurant at the Hyatt Regency in Old Greenwich, Connecticut, where I have also been seen stealing French fries off their “kids menu” plates.  But Hyatt’s new kids menus will feature fruit or vegetables on the side. Beverages? Milk and water will be featured prominently with free refills. (Okay, the free refills on water is no big deal) and the featured children’s meal will be a maximum 600 calories, low sodium and low sugar. I’m thinkin’ its 86 on the French fries for the featured meal.

The menu for the rest of us will feature more healthy options with the hotel chain promising to reduce the overall calories by 10 percent by 2016. Healthy choices will be economical too. Two will be either equivalent to or lower priced than other menu items.

Eating grapes at the vineyards in Chile.

Look, I’m no sourpuss, I like to eat as much as the next gal. And traveling offers so many opportunities to experience local flavors; halva in Jordan, custard pastries in Lisbon, wasabi KitKats in Japan. Eating local is part of the travel experience.

In its presentation, Hyatt’s vice president for food and beverage, Susan Santiago said Hyatt chefs will be doing more on that score, too. Locally grown food will play a larger role with at least five indigenous items. That may be easy in Orlando, but likely more challenging in Minneapolis.

Still, when hotels start paying more attention to the health of the traveler and the impact on the local economy of feeding all those out-of-towners, that’s an opportunity to spread the benefits around and its a big, fat, sweet and juicy piece of news. Denny’s, you listening?

My affection for airports goes back to the days when my dad would throw the plastic webbed lawn chairs in the back of the pickup truck and he and mom and the four of us kids would all go down to Miami International Airport and have a picnic at the end of the runway.  We would watch planes take off and land until it was too dark to see much of anything.

The Fuji Blimp was housed at Westchester County Airport in 2000

When I had children of my own, I took them to Westchester County Airport which has a lovely little observation deck. That is how I met my friend Steve Ferguson, an executive at the airport and the man who took my little ones for a close-up look at the Fuji Film blimp when it was housed at the White Plains airport back in the late 1990s.

We were so excited to view the blimp close-up.

Now I travel a lot, and while I don’t linger when I’m headed home, I’m happy to arrive a few hours early on departure and wander around the airport, snapping photos of airplanes and all the other stuff that one sees at an airport and that I still find thrilling.

The view from my room at the Copenhagen Hilton

So the story running in today’s Times gives a better picture of the grown-up-geek who enjoys few things more than checking into a hotel room perched right over an airfield so I can watch the planes all night long.

I’ve written about my exceptional 24 hours at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport Hilton. And it is included in my 1,400 word story in today’s Times Business Travel section. But even at 37 column inches, the story isn’t long enough to include all the details about my favorite airport hotels.

Here are some you might not have read about in the newspaper but are definitely worth a visit. Just. Go.

Detroit Westin

Joseph thinks I'm a dork and took this photo at the Detroit Westin to prove it.

Okay, first of all you can’t get closer to the airplanes than from the room where I spent the night this past February at the Detroit Airport Westin. Had I a paper towel and the inclination, I could have Windexed the windshield of any one of the dozen Delta jets lined up at Concourse A

And if that’s not enough, they’re just as easy to watch from the hotel spa. My son Joseph and I soaked in the whirlpool as the planes came and went.

Other benefits to a stay at the Westin include, a beautiful, spacious and tranquil lobby bar and restaurant in a macro bamboo forest beside an indoor pond. Joseph loved the whipped cream-topped waffles. I opted for the more sensible breakfast burrito, the second half of which was my inflight meal on my trip home.

Guests who are eager to find out if airports are really offering market basket pricing or just can’t get enough of Hudson News can get a pass from the front desk to access to the airport shops. When it is time to check out and say farewell to Detroit, there’s a no-lines (and I am not making this up) security check point right in the lobby.

Access to the gym and spa is available to non guests for $15. Rooms are available from six a.m. to six p.m. if available for $150.

Philadelphia Airport Marriott

The airport is pretty darn close. Photo courtesy Marriott.

Full disclosure, its been years since I stayed at the Philadelphia Airport Marriott. From the photos on the website, it doesn’t look like much has changed. BIG windows in every room. The decore is “classic” as in my grandma was a classy lady and this could be her living room. Take that as confirmation that it’s a little dated but not necessarily in a bad way. The hotel is excellently located right beside terminal 1 with a view of runways 9R and  27L and there’s a direct entrance to the airport check in counters.

Okay, you know Philadelphia is home to Boathouse Row,  a picturesque and historically significant collection of rowing clubhouses on the Schuylkill River. Marriott takes the rowing theme and races with it at its riverboat-inspired Riverbend Bar and Grill. Yeah, seafood. Cute.

The health club is big, I liked that. The  Ballroom is too. I didn’t care, but apparently meetings and weddings at airport hotels is the next big thing.

Atlanta Airport Marriott Gateway

Last September while changing planes in Atlanta, my flight to New York was cancelled and Delta nicely offered to put me up for the night and get me back home the following day. This I accepted, and boy-oh-boy was I delighted when I arrived at the Atlanta Airport Marriott Gateway just one quick stop on the Marta rapid transit train from the airport. (Now the fact that you can’t actually walk from the airport to the hotel makes this hotel a little iffy as an entrant in the category of hotel on airport property, but I’m bending the rules here, because it’s my blog.)

The lobby. Photo courtesy Marriott.

The lobby is gorgeous. Full stop. But it is not just a one-off beautiful lobby, it is part of what Matthew Carroll, a senior director at Marriott calls the lobby of tomorrow.
“Gen X and gen Y, their idea of productivity is different than the baby boom business travelers”, he told me. “They want lobby space that is very flexible. We see them living a highly-blended lifestyle, conducting business, relaxing or checking emails and talking.”  Hence, Marriott is creating what they call “great room” lobbies and the Atlanta airport is just one example.

Atlanta Airport Marriott outdoor fireplace and bar. Photo courtesy Marriott.

I didn’t have too much time to explore the hotel. I didn’t warm my hands near the outdoor fireplace by the pool (drats!) but the bed was cushy and comfy and breakfast was delicious. All too soon I was back at the airport for my flight home. Don’t do as I did. Take some time to enjoy this hotel.

Hyatt Regency Orlando International Airport

Once again, bad weather turned a lay-over into a stay-over when a freak October blizzard cancelled flights to the northeast. I was with my sons, Antonio and Sam and frankly, we couldn’t believe our luck. Stranded in sunny Florida while back home in Connecticut our entire neighborhood was without power and heat.  My sons might have wished to be more centrally located, but once we were in the room with a balcony and view of the Southwest Airlines gates,  even these car-focused boys started to appreciate the excitement inherent in airports.

The view from our room.

For starters, the Orlando Hyatt is one of the only hotels I have ever seen that shares a lobby with an airport. If travel were a religion, this would be the tabernacle. I mean, just look at it.

It is a lobby and it is an airport. Photo courtesy Hyatt.

Plane spotting is fun enough. At this hotel you can people watch too. When you’ve had enough of that, there’s car mayhem to be witnessed. We saw a big SUV crash into a cab.

There's always something exciting going on at an airport.

The hotel has a gym, a pool, and the Hemisphere restaurant on the 9th floor, one wall of which is entirely made of glass.  The restaurant and lobby bar and grill are open to transiting passengers, but to use the pool, one has to pay a day rate of $89.

I was surprised to learn that here – in the number one tourist destination in the world – this airport so far from Disney World, Sea World and all the other “worlds” does so many conferences.  Patricia Engfer, the general manager told me it is because so many airlines offer reasonable airfares and direct flights to Orlando. “The beauty of that is business travelers can come for meetings and bring their families if they want and do pre and post vacation trips, or both.”

Let’s just say Ms. Engfer is selling the product. Anyone with an early morning flight ought to spend the night before at the hotel, she told me, “I walk downstairs, and I’m at the security lines.  It’s the best.”

Grand Hyatt DFW Dallas

I’m blown away by swimming pools that look out over an active runway. From the rooftop pool at the Grand Hyatt DFW one can see all seven runways and they’re busy day and night. The Dallas/Ft. Worth International Airport is after all, one of the top ten busiest airports in the world. The Grand is the upscale, pricer, big-brother of two Hyatts located at the airport.

The hotel has a view of planes, planes, planes. Photo courtesy Hyatt.

The entrance is via an escalator by Terminal D that, truth-be-told, is a little difficult to find. The lobby is small, just the reception desk followed by a bright, welcoming casual-feeling restaurant and bar. The food is very good and that is apparently not just my opinion. The general manager Lance Marrin tells me the hotel makes as much money on the food and beverage side of the business as on the  rooms.  Now with Jean Claude Plihon as the hotel’s new executive chef, the Grand is adding cooking classes as part of a weekend Epicurean Studio package. Imagine going to a hotel at an airport to learn how to cook. What will they think of next?

The Hyatt corporate slogan is “You’re more than welcome” and in the case of the Grand Hyatt that means that air travelers who are not guests of the hotel but who have time to fill waiting for their onward flight are welcome to use the hotel facilities for a small fee. Thirty bucks gets access to the aforementioned pool with a view, the gym, the sauna and showers.

For airport hotels like this one, I’m more than thankful.

Bus driver Robert Davis drives for Veolia Bus, a contractor to Phoenix public transit

The moment I saw the bus driver’s smile I realized I was far, far from home; at a magical place where public transit workers realize they’re in the service and hospitality business and act accordingly.  LIKE!

What surprised me even further on my recent stay in Phoenix was that the warm fuzzies went both ways. Drivers greet passengers with a smile and travelers reply in kind.

Quite a view out the window while on the bus in Arizona.

It was obvious when I boarded my first Vally Metro bus, during the morning commute that I was a tourist.  I fumbled with the very basics; Where do I put my money? How do I get a transfer? How will I know when I get to my stop? But the driver was cheery and helpful. And this is where it gets really weird. So were my fellow passengers.

Did I mention the light rail? LIKE!

Had this happened once, or even twice, I’d chalk it up to beginner’s luck. But on every trip I took on public transportation, and I took plenty this week, I would ask just one idle question and the conversation was off and running.

One morning I talked to a Macy’s shop girl halfway through her 2 hour-a-day, each-way commute. She explained to me how the department store’s employee commission system worked. Yikes! I’ll never return merchandise to Macy’s again. I promise. (For more eye-opening info on this subject read the book, Malled My Unintentional Career in Retail  by Caitlin Kelly)

There was the middle aged man headed to the Veteran’s Administration who told me how he was easing his way into retirement by cutting back from full to part-time work, but still spent an hour and a half on the bus getting from one side of Scottsdale to the other. The Jamaican bus driver on this route listened and occasionally joined in with his story of moving to Arizona for love. The relationship had come to an end but his affection for Phoenix was still on a high burn. That was an emotion they all seemed to share.

Ninety pleasant minutes later, I arrive at my destination.

On my second bus, as I finally approached my destination, the Musical Instrument Museum, another transplant, driver Robert Davis from New Jersey said he missed living near water, but enjoyed everything else about the place. Another bus, another round of smiles and pleasant exchanges.

More than one way to get around humungous Phoenix.

I was in Phoenix working on several news stories for client somewhat stingy with expenses so, I was watching my pennies; Hence the $5 a day bus rather than a $60 a day rental car.

From Scottsdale to Phoenix to Chandler to Tucson l was not behind the wheel, instead I was getting this unexpected view – the view of a place as seen through the lives of the locals.

On the practical side, there were 3 things especially worth noting about Phoenix public transit;

1. Each stop has a unique identifying number. Call or text the transit authority with that number and you’ll get the arrival time for the next three buses. How about that for eliminating wait time uncertainty?
2. The aforementioned  “welcome aboard” smile from the bus driver.
3. The delightfully consistent practice of departing passengers of thanking the driver.

LIKE, LIKE and LIKE.

The sign may be redundant.

A typical wine tasting at Viña Tarapaca in the Maipo Valley near Santiago

Somewhere along the line, and I don’t exactly know when, wine went from beverage to something more. I like wine, but truth be told, always felt a little intimidated by the complexity of the stuff and all those rules! Red with meat, white with fish, when  champagne can be called “Champagne” and when it is just sparkling wine. Glass size, glass shape, glass thickness. Well, ’round about now, I’m reaching for  a simple tumbler and pouring myself something straightforward, like Wild Turkey.

Unlike bourbon drinking, an interest in wine is classy enough to have an official name which is, in case you don’t know, oenology.

Mark Thompson is a style editor at Edge publications

All this is background to the invitation that came from my friend and fellow writer, Mark Thompson and his friend Stevie Cappelen of Wines of Chile. The men invited me to accompany them on a tour of the country’s vineyards at which time they promised me I wouldn’t have to know a Burgundy from a Beaujolais.  “There will be lots of activities,” Stevie promised, pushing my buttons. Mountain biking, hiking, horseback riding. What could I do? I said yes.

This is how I learned wine tourism is a recognition that no matter how much anyone loves to imbibe,  there are certain times when non-drinking activity has to take place. After one’s morning coffee for example and the period of time that breaks up several afternoon wine tastings. Drink too much and loose the ability to appreciate the taste and after that, what exactly is the point?

Stevie and Laura Baginski bike ride at Las Niñas vineyard.

So this filling in the times in-between wine consumption is where non-oenologists get to have fun because life on the vineyard makes for some downright entertaining things to do.

Here, with no particular relevance to how much I enjoyed each one, is a list of the things I did while not drinking wine in Chile and a little explanation of the when, where, why and how. You’ll also find the links to each vineyards in case you want to try a visit yourself.  Mark and Stevie not included.

Mark and Stevie may have tasted one to many wines at Veramonte vineyard.

Viu Manent – When the director of tourism at a vineyard starts talking about adding day care, a small hotel and a wedding chapel to the place, you got to figure there’s more to do at this winery than just drink wine. You figured right.

Horse drawn carriage one of many activities at Viu Manent

Viu Manent is located in Santa Cruz, a good 2-hour drive through breathtakingly beautiful scenery in the valley called Colchagua. When we arrived, we were taken by horse drawn carriage into the fields where the Chardonnay grapes, at their peak and ready for plucking, were waiting for us to help harvest.

A seasoned professional shows tourists how it is done.

Arm wrestling Chardonnay grapes is tougher than it looks.

Truth be told, there were professionals in the fields who kept right on working while we tourists  fumbled with our aprons, gloves, hats and clippers and snipped bunches of white grapes like the neophytes we were.  There is nothing like wrestling with the tenacious tendrils of a vine unwilling to surrender its fruit to  make one appreciate the skill of the folks who do this day in and day out.

Viu Manent doesn’t just let you pick the grapes, they let you follow their path. We saw the presses, the fermentation, the labs, the casks and finally, we rested under a grape arbor at the winery’s lovely restaurant where we washed down lunch with several bottles of the house product.

Mauricio Romo of Viu Manent hosts lunch under the grape arbor

Viu Manent has an art gallery (ask to hear the stories that go along with the original art on the labels) and a gift shop. Stay tuned, someday soon they’ll offer overnight accommodations, too.

Stacy Slinkard shows off her Colorado-side at Vina Tarapaca.

Viña Tarapaca “Who wants to ride a horse?” My hand shot up in the air and so did  Stevie’s and Stacy Slinkard a Colorado girl who owns two horses of her own and who writes about wine for About.com.

Viña Tarapaca, farms 1,400 acres of vineyards so I figured this would be a nice way to get an slightly elevated overview and a little exercise at the same time. I hadn’t counted on a horse who knew where he was going and was in a hurry to get there. As I hung on to the saddle for dear life, the more experienced Stevie and Stacy calmly listened to the guide as he told us about the fields and the grapes at Viña Tarapaca.

I caught up on what I missed at the beautiful museum of wine on the property. We did not stay here long enough to swim in the pool, use the sauna, golf the 4-hole course, or play on one of the two tennis courts, but before leaving I did snatch some fresh figs off a giant tree on the shaded walking path by the Viña Tarapaca airfield.

A lovely place to walk by the stream at Vina Tarapaca winery.

And had I a say in the matter, we would have spent at least one night at the 18-room Tuscan-style manor home and toured the adorable nearby village of Isla de Maipo.  Viña Tarapaca is a 45-minute drive from Santiago.

The landscape at Errazuriz is heartbreakingly beautiful.

Errazuriz You go to a vineyard thinking its all about growing grapes, then a place like Errazuriz shows you that life of all kinds is bursting forth.  Our guide gave us hats, warned us we were gonna get dirty and promptly marched us off on an uphill hike to see the magnificent grounds of the vineyard in the Aconcagua Valley.

Red peppercorns decorated the trees.

Along the way we stopped to pick red peppercorns from the giant trees – rubbing them between our hands and enjoying the fresh peppery smell.

Stop, save some for the casks.

Rosemary bloomed along our path and the cactus were laden with prickly pears. In the midst of all this sensory stimulation we ate and ate and ate the grapes. Was a tasting even necessary after all this?

The Errazuriz buildings are a creative blend of historic and contemporary. We descended into the 19th century cellar on the brick ramp on which in the past, the wine was carted by teams of horses.

This wine tasting room is in the original building.

We examined the award-winning wines on display and heard the story of Chile’s late-discovered but now-famed red-leafed Carmenere grape. Then we walked across the stone patio to examine the high-tech, geothermal climate-controlled, architecturally-significant, thoroughly-modern addition to the winery – the work of Chile’s Samuel Claro.

A trip to Errazuriz should be paired with other activities in the area as it is a 2 hour drive from Santiago and there are no overnight accommodations at the vineyard.

Emiliana Many of the vineyards we visited in Chile were striving for organic, carbon neutral, even Biodynamic certification. There’s no better place than at Emiliana Organic Vineyard in the Casablanca Valley west of Santiago to get an look-see at how farming on a large scale can still be earth-friendly. The first hint that this is not an ordinary vineyard is the presence of alpacas, horses, geese and other critters on the property. They’re there to “contribute” to the farm, their output being useful for the soil. In the case of the chickens who get to call the “mobile chicken coop” home, their input is equally valuable. They eat the bugs and pests that may otherwise harm the vines.

Oooh alpacas! Critters help with the organic farming at Emiliana Vineyards.

An exceptionally beautiful alpaca at Emiliana.

Many visitors though, just enjoy petting the animals and taking their photos as if they were rock stars.

The guides at Emiliana offer a spirited tour that explains many of the ways the vineyard differs from modern high-production farms and guests are welcome to hike through the fields, lunch al fresco or try the wines in the sun-filled indoor tasting bar.

My dessert at Emiliana.

While there, I recommend buying a box or two of the chocolates. They pair very well with wine.

De Martino Vineyards, a 40 minute drive outside of Santiago in the Maipo Valley  is the place to go for a start-to-finish understanding of everything wine-related, no tricks, no gimmicks and no snotty attitude. I knew De Martino was going to be a down-to-earth experience when the first thing our guide, Francisca Rodriguez, did was walk us down a ladder into the dirt, to show us how soil composition enhances the growth  of grapes.

Fran teaches us about the importance of dirt at De Martino Winery.

This awareness of the land and all the factors that yield good grapes – what they call terrior -  infused much of what Fran told us during our visit. De Martino is a vineyard with an earth-friendly attitude, 100% organic and with carbon neutral production.

During the tasting, Fran explained that we were “drinking the place” and we understood what she meant; all the contributing factors from seed to cask were rooted literally in the soil and figuratively in the culture, a paring that that played out in the  mouth and in the mind.

Fran helps Mark cork his new wine creation.

A little flush from the experience, Fran then turned us loose in the winery’s vast tiled tasting hall with several bottles of Cabernet, Carmenere and Syrah so that we could create wines blended exactly to our own tastes, before shepherding us off to a barbeque lunch.

Visitors to De Martino won’t be distracted by the kinetic activities that kept me entertained at many of the other stops, but it was just the right place to turn a bourbon drinker into a someone with an incrementally better understanding of how and why wine will always be more than a drink.

Allyson Silva, Stevie Cappelen, Kristin Koch at Veramonte wine tasting

Kristin Koch has a handle on that bunch.

The Peninsula Hotel in Manila

The Peninsula in Manila is a swanky hotel in whose ornate lobby I have on past visits seen none other than Imelda Marcos having cocktails. When I fly into Manila, this hotel in the Makati district is where I stay. More accurately stated, this is where I sleep. In Manila or wherever I go, I try to get out and see where and how the locals live.

On visit earlier this month, I was headed for a neighborhood far from the snazzy Peninsula, an hour’s drive away but by every other measure, located in a completely different universe.

On my airline layovers, I have to indulge my photography Jones but lately that addiction has taken me to increasingly out-of-the-way places in search of images that are different from the usual tourist snapshots. And so in Manila, I headed for Payatas, the mother of all garbage dumps because this is where tens of thousands of destitute squatters make their living.

These people live in makeshift hovels surrounding the dump and  every day they sort through each load of arriving garbage  searching for enough of value to scrape by for another day. My mission on this day was to try to capture with my camera the lives of people who struggle daily in this desperate survival mode.

My driver, Lito Ancheta and I arrived at Payatas and learned that we would need a permit just to enter the dump. We had no permit, so Lito steered us through the streets adjacent to, but outside the dump itself.  What I saw shocked me and overwhelmed me. It did not seem real.

Even on the streets outside the dump, dozens of garbage trucks were pulled over to the side of the road while people dressed in rags unloaded the contents. Garbage, bagged and unbagged was piled everywhere along the sides of the road and inside the shanties beyond I could see bags of garbage piled to the ceiling. In this economy, garbage was currency.

Observing this chaos from inside the car, I began to doubt whether I had the courage to leave the protection of Lito’s taxi.  But when he finally parked the car, I did follow Lito as he began walking down a hill, where makeshift housing lined both sides of the road and residents spilled out of doors. I felt like as if we were walking a gauntlet, but the greetings of these residents made me realize that that my worry was not warranted.

The people here were friendly and smiling as I started to photograph them and they started laughing when I turned the camera to them so
they could see the image I’d captured. Soon a gaggle of children was following me, swarming around my knees and giggling and screaming in delight at their own faces as recorded by the camera’s eye. They were beautiful children but already bearing the signs of their sorry reality. Six and seven year olds with scars, rotting teeth and the filthy ripped clothing.

By time we turned to leave, I’d asked Lito if he could take me back here on a future trip to Manila. I was operating under the illusion that I would be doing these kids a favor by bringing them prints of the pictures I’d taken. As I think about it now, though, I realize the favor they granted me in showing me my bias.  Laughter and happiness are possible even in what seems on the surface to be a hopeless existence.

My thanks to Jim for sharing this travel journey.  Photos copyright Jim Karsh 2012. All rights reserved.

Ibsens Hotel is located on the north side of Copenhagen.

I’m not the best driver in the world, because I’m easily distracted. I am, however, a great passenger. I’m very happy to ride right seat and enjoy the scenery.  So, when Kirsten Brøchner, owner of Ibsens Hotel in Copenhagen graciously invited me to drive her little carbon-neutral car while I was a guest in her hotel last fall, I thought it best to decline.

But then I had a second thought. Could I really get the full sense of Denmark without  experiencing this uniquely Scandinavian EUV? (That’s the the anti-SUV, the Electric Urban Vehicle.)So early Sunday morning, when – Lord willing – everyone would still be sleeping off the effects of a raucous Copenhagen Saturday night, I got behind the wheel of Kristen’s Norwegian-built Buddy and putt-putt-putted around town.

Just a little nervous before driving off.

I found Buddy more powerful than I would have expected from a little three-seater with a top speed of 45 miles per hour. This is a charm-bracelet-sized car that was deceptively quick off the mark when the light turned green and very maneuverable.

But I don’t think that’s why the Oslo-based ElbilNorge ABis is churning out the Buddys to eager Scandinavians. More likely the reason is that gas sells for upwards of $7 a gallon here and Norway and Denmark have the continent’s highest automobile sales tax while electric cars in Denmark are duty-free.

Kirsten’s Buddy was safely parked back in the Hotel Ibsen parking lot when I spied – with delight and only for a fraction of a minute – Denmark’s erstwhile contribution to electric vehicle development, a tiny three-wheeled, single-passenger Ellert. This is a car that’s legally a motorbike, opens up like a pillbox and comes with the warning that in moderate winds or at speeds above 30 mph it can get “blown about”. Yikes!

A three-wheeled Ellert speeds down the street.

Maybe its eensy-weensie size was playing tricks on my perception, but that little car seemed to be zooming when I saw it coming down the Nyropsgade and I was barely able to grab a quick photo before it disappeared into the distance. Which is symbolic, I suppose, since the Ellert developed by Danish engineer Steen Jensen, is no longer made in Denmark. It is manufactured in Germany under the name Mini El City by a company called Smiles. Which is exactly what I did when I saw it. And if Kirsten’s affection for her Buddy is any indicator, driving while green seems to have that effect.

Kirsten Brochner's little Buddy back home, safe and sound. Photo courtesy Ibsens Hotel.

Can't beat the view at Boston's Logan Airport.

My friend and fellow aviation and travel writer Harriet Baskas reports on a survey that shows the majority of travelers think air travel is stressful. Not exactly surprising news, but the results of the HNTB study could help the aviation industry enhance how it interacts with its customers, which I suppose is the goal.

Hurry up and wait is common at most airports.

What ticks travelers off? Oh, you know, the obvious: invasive security, long lines to check bags, that sort of thing.

Here at GO HOW, I’m proposing that we take a glass-is-half-full approach to getting where we’re going by concentrating on all the great experiences we have in transit because I know we have them. So, with this post, I’m asking you to contribute your stories of unexpected delights you have experienced along the way, which I will publish here in the future.

To encourage you to sit down and send your favorite “It happened to me while flying” story, I will award a great prize – a cherry red, Ethiopian Airways business class amenity kit – to the person who contributes the very best tale. Send your story to me at flyingphotographs@gmail.com. (You are welcome to, but you don’t need to send any photographs, your story will do.)

I’ll start.

Several years ago my friend Darren Gaines was visiting in Connecticut and we were going to travel together to Washington to attend the ISASI annual dinner. Wanting to show him the beautiful beach in my community, I stopped by the inn where he was staying and took him for a walk along the Long Island Sound. But I misjudged the time and as a result we were very late getting to the airport. Don’t you know, we missed our flight.

With Darren at an ISASI meeting in Florida.

Well, 99.9% of the time that means eating the ticket and buying a new one, but on this day in May, the sun was shining over the heads of both Darren and the Delta ticket agent who waited on us. With a drawl that cannot be native to the town in Ohio where Darren lives, he explained our situation to the woman behind the desk and she promptly booked us on the next flight to Dulles, no charge, no lecture, no problem.

Darren and I made our way to the gate, boarded the plane and were on our way as if I had not totally screwed up. An earth-shattering, life-altering experience? Nope, but the kind that can turn the sunshine on full blast for the rest of the day and serve as a reminder that an airline cannot exist without planes and airports and complex ticketing systems no more than it can exist without the traveler.

That ticket agent got that. And so too, did the airline that made it possible for her to push a few buttons and re-accommodate us hassle-free. For this, Delta Air Lines deserves a prize, but they’ve already got amenity kits.

That’s my story. What’s yours?

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A heron seen on the Wekiva River in Orlando.

A partial list of the critters I have seen while kayaking would include, alligators,  dolphins, water snakes, ducks (duh!) eagles, hawks, ospreys, anhinga and snapping turtles. Just listing all the wildlife makes it sound as if kayaking was a chaotic experience. In fact, it’s just the opposite.

There’s something so peaceful about moving slightly above the surface of the water; kinda in it and kinda not. The gentle slosh of the paddles is my only contribution to the sound track provided by nature.

Wekiva River, Florida

A hawk hides in the tree above the Peace River in Florida.

One of my favorite kayaking spots is the Wekiva River in Orlando, Florida not far from Walt Disney World and all that associated madness. The officially designated “wild and scenic” Wekiwa Springs State Park, lives up to its billing. It is wild. It is scenic. It is a world away from all the “worlds” and “lands” that populate this part of the state.

A few years ago, I spent an afternoon on the water with my friend from Chile, Elizabeth Rojas. We were about an hour into our trip when we spotted a juvenile-sized alligator sound asleep in the sun atop a log across the water from our boats.

That's Elizabeth and that's an alligator.

We got all hammy trying to arrange our kayaks so that we could take photos of each other with the alligator in the background. Ohh we would have proof to show our friends how brave we were!  The animal was asleep for the first 10 mintues or so, but all our ruckus roused him from his slumber and he started showing us his teeth. At this point we put the oars in the water and made tracks.

Time to scram.

Econfina Creek, Florida

One October, not too many years ago, my brother Rafe and I had some family business to take care of near Panama City, Florida but we opted to goof off one afternoon and go kayaking at the natural springs at Econfina Creek. WOW. It’s a creek, it’s a forest, it’s a beach.

Turtles sun themselves on the shore.

The creek meanders for miles and as it does, it passes over several natural springs. One minute we were paddling in shallow water and checking out the fish, the next minute a chasm would open up beneath our boats and we’d be looking down into a huge gully. A few times we just jumped out of our boats and went for a swim in these natural whirlpools.

Cobbs Creek, Virginia

My friends Anne and Neil have an old farmhouse in Mathews, Virginia that I call Paradise. It is perched above Cobbs Creek, an offshoot of the Rappahannock River. I don’t know what it is about this piece of the Chesapeake, but ospreys love the place, so kayaking here is a noisy affair.

Ospreys love Cobbs Creek, Virginia.

Osprey are the ultimate worry-warts, making a distinctive, repetitive screech if they even think you’re approaching their nests, which they build high up in the trees. So you know and I know there’s no reason for them to be concerned  but they are, nevertheless. One afternoon, my husband Jim and my sons, Joseph and Sam went kayaking with me. We paddled around a bit, then crossed the creek, beached the boats and went for a swim. Only when we were off the boats and in the water did the ospreys settle down.

They're in the water. I'm taking the photo. What's wrong with this picture?

Branson, Missouri

My son Antonio and I worked a news assignment together just once, the opening of the new airport in Branson, Missouri. I was there writing for the travel section of the Dallas Morning News and Antonio was my photographer. What with all the activities; ribbon cuttings, first flights arriving, tourists to interview, we had just one free day. So early Sunday morning we drove northeast out of town to Bull Creek Outpost in Rockaway Beach, located on one of the leggy branches of Lake Taneycomo.

We were alone on the water because it was early May, tourist season had not yet begun. Perhaps that’s why the fish were so friendly. As we paddled around, we were accosted by large fish who scraped up against the side of our boats.

Antonio and I are thinking, "Those are some friendly fish."

When we got over our astonishment at that, we had a leisurely paddle-around and a relaxed mother-son gabfest.

A fabulous day of kayaking in the Ozarks with my son, Antonio.

Aside from the chance to get back to nature, the other reason I love kayaking is how it opens up those kinds of opportunities.

When I think back on the great times I’ve had on the water, there are two constants, the nature that I see and the people with whom I  share it.

Lordy, the variety of birds in Florida is amazing!

My son Joseph kayaks with me on a pond in Connecticut.

Kayaking with my friend Elizabeth in Long Island Sound.

When I saw Jordan on the list it stirred memories of my trip there a few years ago. I had less than a week so I did a quick hit of three important sites.

The river Jordan. Israel lies on the other side.

The River Jordan – There’s not much water left in the Jordan River and what is there is brown with the silt of the earth at its banks, but during my visit to the site where Jesus was baptized I felt a flood of emotions.

As an American, stories of Jesus’ life always seemed to have taken place not just in another time but in another world. So to actually stand in that world, among the people who work the land or see the moon rise over the same mountains revealed a vision of Jesus more human than the character in the stories.

The site (now dry) on the river where Jesus is believed to have been baptized.

Standing there I imagined someone who likely looked like the men of today’s Middle East. And I suspect the fighting over land, power and religion was much the same as it is today.

Israel seen from the edge of Jordan.

High fences topped with barbed wire and soldiers armed with automatic weapons guard both sides of the river, which creates the border between Israel and Jordan.

The baptism site is an hour drive south of Amman and I made the trip with my friend Sabah’s sister Elham, who is a Muslim and a return visitor to the site, but nevertheless was patient and did not hurry me as I explored the river and the beautiful artwork inside the modern church there.

Murals depict the baptism of Christ.

The Dead Sea – At 1,300 feet below sea level, this is the lowest place on earth. My ears popped as our car flew past the elegant resort hotels along the shore.  It was a sunny day in November  and a few dozen people were at the beach, though only the men and children were in swimsuits. This body of water is ten times saltier than any ocean and inhospitable to life, hence, the Dead Sea.

Bathers slather on the mud from the Dead Sea.

Swimsuits for some. Cover-ups for others.

Nevertheless, a number of folks were slathering themselves in a coat of mud and even more people were crowded into the gift shop where the gray sand is sold for  medicinal and cosmetic use. I’m sensitive to salt water and squeamish about sand so I avoided both the sea and the shop.

Moonrise as seen from a dinner table at the Movenpik Hotel

I was delighted to move our little tour on to the Movenpik Hotel and Resort, located a mile up the road. Here we planned to watch the sunset at a dinner table, a safe distance from the salt water and the sand flies. But in the Middle East in the fall, the sun sets early and it goes down fast. We missed the sunset but instead got a lengthy view of a magnificent moon the size of our dinner table rising over the mountain.

This was the second spectacular moonrise I saw in as many nights. It was coming up over the Al-Husseini Mosque in Amman the night before. It hung low in the sky as if waiting for me to come along and take its photo.

The moon rises over King Hussain Mosque in Amman.

Petra – My final full day in Jordan was reserved for a trip to the ruins of the great city of Petra, a 2,000 plus-year old community, much of which was carved out of mountain rock. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Its a long walk in and worth the trip.

The most famous of the buildings, the Khaznah or Treasury became an icon when its façade was featured in the movie, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. This is a structure that lives up to its fame. Like Michelangelo’s David, or the leaning Tower of Pisa, no number of photos or descriptions can prepare one for actually seeing it up close.

The dramatic punch is heightened because the treasury sits at the end of a half-mile long walk through a deep stone cleft. This remarkable structure is positioned so that you can only catch glimpses of it for the last few meters of the walk. Emerging from what is essentially a stone tunnel, the full view of the immense and ornately carved building is an overwhelming, take-your-breath-away experience.

The Khazneh or Treasury is carved from the mountain.

I felt exceptionally blessed to see Petra because the weather on the three-hour drive from Amman had been terrible. A thick fog hung close to the road and I watched appreciatively as our JETT bus driver made slow, steady progress on the two-lane highway.

Wrapped up and trying to keep warm.

When I arrived, it was so cold and damp, I stayed in the visitor center for 20-minutes trying to motivate myself to brave the foul weather. Realizing it would be a tragedy to spend the day having only seen the gift shop, I buttoned up my thin sweater, tied the belt around my neck like a scarf and with my large green sun visor providing a pretty effective umbrella, set out to explore. Dontcha know, I had such a good time I barely made it back in time to catch the JETT bus home.

Had I more days, (and had it been warmer) I would have spent time snorkeling in Aqaba,  viewing the mosaic maps of the ancient Middle East at St. Georges’ Church in Madaba. If all those maps put me a driving mood, I’d have toured the Royal Automobile Museum in Amman, which I hear is not so much about vehicles as it is about how the country moved forward in the 20th Century.

Forty airlines in addition to easyJet, fly into Amman. USAirways, Turkish, Virgin Atlantic, Emirates and Delta are some of the major carriers. Of course the national airline Royal Jordanian – a member of One World Alliance – offers direct flights from 60 cities on four continents.

Nope, getting to Jordan isn’t hard, the problem is finding time to see all the country has to offer. But the Times is right, this is destination worth putting on the to-do list.

Obelisk Tomb in Petra

Part of the Brown University archaeological excavation of the Great Temple.

In the museum, pieces of art and brilliantly colored slabs of stone.

We were greeted at the airport with coffee and flowers.

Over dinner, when I asked my travel companion, the Belgian journalist, Raphael Meulders, what he enjoyed most about our day traveling in northwest Ethiopia, he hesitated about two seconds and answered, “the people”.  I know just what he means.

We had a day full of moments that made me feel as if I’d just stepped into a National Geographic special. Our bus stopped to wait while cows and goats were shooed from the street and we gaped at the monkeys in the trees, pelicans on Lake Tana and the colorful centuries-old murals at the church of Ura Kidane Mihret.

One of many pelicans we saw on Lake Tana

A mural at Ura Kidane Mihret shows signs of deterioration.

But it was the people we met on this day that will remain with me long after I have left Ethiopia and returned to a world where cows don’t live in the city and water comes from the tap rather than from a plastic container that has been filled in the river and carried home on someone’s head.

On the road to Blue Nile Falls.

The two beautiful women who greeted us as we got off the airplane at the airport in Bahir Dar labored for nearly an hour brewing coffee, stirring the popcorn and slicing the doughy, spongy bread that is required eating as part of the Ethiopian “coffee ceremony.” Never mind that we tourists were circling around them like caffeine addicts in need of a fix and offending local custom by digging into the bread before it was offered. They were gracious and hospitable and oh, they brewed a great cup of coffee.

Serving the tourists coffee on arrival at Bahir Dar airport.

As in many developing countries, some Ethiopians greet a busload of tourists with outstretched palms. Still others will ask for payment to pose for photos or provide guidance at points of interest. But there was no element of the commercial in many of the interactions we had with people we met along the way.

From the airport we took a bus and then a motorboat to Zegie Peninsula to see the 16th century Orthodox churches Ura Kidane Mihret and Azewa Mariam. The small spit of land is also home to several hundred people who care for the historic structures or make a living selling weavings, hammered silver charms and other tschotskes to visitors.

A quick tour of a typical home in Zegie Peninsula

It was a 15 minute walk  from the port to the churches and I couldn’t help but be curious about what was on the other end of the small side streets that veered off from the main path. On my way back to the boat, I sat for a while on an overturned reed canoe and chatted with an older woman and her granddaughter. Without my even asking, or even hinting, (really!)  she invited me to have a look around her home. It was colorful on the outside, dark and tidy on the inside and gave me the impression that most of the living goes on out-of-doors. When this is the view, why not?

Lake Tana photo by and courtesy of John Miller

After lunch we took a bone-jarring, 30 kilometer, hour-long drive to Tis Abay, to see the spectacular Blue Nile Falls.

It is a short trip by public ferry across the stream.

Even after arriving, to reach the falls we had to cross a stream in small aluminum ferries and hike for about 20-minutes through an arid plateau where we passed children carefully doing their homework in neat notebooks while keeping one eye on the cows and goats in their care.

A homemaker in Tis Abay returns with water for her household.

(I thought of a few American children with whom I’d like to share that scene.)

The walk to the falls was busy with locals returning to their farms after conducting whatever business they had in town and that is where I met this woman, who was bringing water for her family but stopped for a quick hello and a very gracious offer to let me take her photo.

At long last, we see the falls.

That evening our group stayed in the amazing Kuriftu Resort, which is perched on the lake but also has a beautiful pool, restaurant and nightclub.

The Ethiopians are, with good reason, extremely proud of their native dancing. It is a noisy, mesmerizing affair that’s motion, rhythm and story-telling all wrapped up in one. It goes on throughout the meal, making it impossible to do anything but watch.

Lunch, dinner, doesn't matter. The dancers are there. Photo by John Miller.

But when the last dessert has been consumed, the tour guides and the dancers make it clear everyone must get on their feet and participate.  They’re not happy until the untrained, even the uncoordinated, are shimmying around with the professionals. In all the ways people communicate across cultures and language barriers, this seemed to say, “We’re happy you’re here and we want you to be happy you’re here, too.” And indeed, we were.

Her homework done, this young student headed home.

The ferry that took us across the stream.