Here&There - the Home&Abroad Blog

Home&Abroad Releases Destination Activity Travel Sites

admin — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 22:39:28 +0000

Home and Abroad just launched a ton of destination activity focused travel sites using the Fogglight platform. This means each of these sites come with the power of the award winning Home and Abroad Tripplanner features but with a focus on Things to Do in that Destination.

Check out a few below and find out how you can utilize the Fogglight Plaftform for your micro travel site launch at http://fogglight.com

Home&Abroad Launches One of the Web’s Largest Networks of Group Travel Websites!

Christy — Mon, 18 May 2009 18:47:12 +0000

The folks at Home&Abroad have been busy the past couple of months working on the launch of a large network of travel websites for group travelers. We’ve taken over 77 of our popular travel destinations and created websites focused on planning and booking travel to each place. Every site is filled with information to make your trip planning easy, including destination-specific tips and advice, detailed attraction information, and an easy platform to book your group hotel or bus charter online.

If you’re planning a future group trip, be sure to check out one of our sites for the destination of your choice!

A Report from Post-Katrina New Orleans

Michael — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 22:22:54 +0000

New Orleans ranks as one my favorite cities in the US. I visited for a Mardi Gras in 1992, had a few Abita beers–and somehow ended up in some converted church deep in the 9th Ward dancing over a fire pit while an African shaman wearing a voodoo animal mask whipped me and the rest of the crowd into an orgiastic frenzy.

It was weird and primitive and wonderful, and after I woke up on the floor of the church the next morning, face black with ash and with the sweet scent of magnolia blossoms in my nostrils, I was hooked. I loved the lushness of the overgrown gardens and the frayed beauty of the decaying old mansions–the overall roughness and sweetness of the place. I ended up living there for 7 years and marrying a local.

Since Katrina, I have been hesitant to return, mostly because I fear–probably unreasonably–that the city I remember won’t be there anymore, or that what remains of it will be tainted by the darkness and destruction that has plagued the city since the storm. I have kept up with what has been happening in the Crescent City primarily through the excellent website optical channelNolafugees.com, where articles and stories by local writers bring the struggles of post-Katrina New Orleans to life. The Nolafugees crowd has also produced a few impressive books about the city, the most recent of which is Soul Is Bulletproof (available here on Amazon.)

Recently, a friend of mine, мебелиChris Klever, ventured back to rediscover New Orleans, and wrote an excellent piece on it for Nolafugees. It presents a balanced but not bitter view of what he found–a city that has been transformed and shattered in some ways, but which is resilient and reviving in others. Here is Klever’s report from the Big Easy:

“Odi et Amo: A Pilgrim’s Progress

International Correspondent Chris Klever, on his recent pilgrimage to Reconstruction NOLA.

“I can’t think of a better place to live if you don’t value your life.”
–a New Orleans friend.

New Orleans and its environs have always held a special place in my heart. Its unique character has fascinated me ever since I attended my first Mardi Gras back in 1995: the quaint Creole cottages, the mysterious Flambeaux carrying their torches in certain parades, the redolence of humidity and decaying magnolia pods, the cargo freighters gliding down the river carrying their wares to all corners of the world, the bricks of the projects. And of course the ever-present sense of danger lurking just beneath the surface, ready to seize the unwary and punish them for their indiscretions.

I’d answered its Siren’s song again and again, but was reluctant to return after Katrina, fearful that my beloved city was beyond repair. Finally, after 4 years, I decided to return and see for myself how different things really were. Mama’s Tasty food is gone, but Casamento’s remains, even if its hours are rather sporadic. Yes, many things are different, but many things remain as I remember them.

Take the French Quarter, for example: after a wonderful lunch of Muffelletas and Pimm’s cups at Napoleon House, I remarked to one of my friends that I would like to visit the St. Louis #1 Cemetery and Our Lady of Guadalupe church. He advised against this; maybe we could drive there in a car, but a short walk there was simply out of the question. I was incredulous; I’d walked there several times on previous visits without incident. So why should this trip be any different?

My friend explained that times were different post-Katrina: crime was out of control and we could easily become the victims of a random act of violence. But the next day, against my better judgment and without an armed escort, I crossed Rampart to Our Lady of Guadalupe church. I paid my respects to St. Jude at his shrine and thought surely these claims that New Orleans was any more dangerous than it had been in the past were highly exaggerated. Then, I crossed Basin to St. Louis #1, where I had been countless times.

I spent about ten minutes enjoying the solitude of this City of the Dead; then I heard the distinct “pop”, “pop”, “pop” of gunfire. It came from the nearby Iberville projects. “Uh, oh time to leave,” I thought. The next day I told my friend about the shots fired and he confirmed that there had been gunplay in the Iberville the previous day.

I decided that continuing my pilgrimages on foot may not be the best idea. My friends agreed and offered to drive.

St. Roch Shrine, like St. Louis #1 and Our Lady of Guadalupe, has always been for me a place of quiet contemplation, a holy shrine where I could thank God for my good health and fortunate life. Knowing that Katrina had flooded the cemetery and chapel with 6 feet of water, I was eager to see the chapel restored to its former self. I say self because the chapel has a unique personality thanks to the pilgrims who have prayed to St. Roch for a cure to a particular ailment, been miraculously healed and then left behind remnants of their past afflictions. Leg braces, crutches, canes, plaster casts, and various medical devices are assembled haphazardly in a small sanctuary to the right of the chapel altar. Each offering to St. Roch is a token of appreciation bestowed to honor the healing power of the saint, giving hope to all who suffer.

Like St. Louis #1, St. Roch is in a less-than-recovered section of the city, and our drive to the shrine was most inauspicious. The St. Roch Market, where I’d often completed my pilgrimages with a 1/2 and 1/2 Po-boy, was in shambles. Its boarded-up front still caved-in after 3 years, I wondered if this historic treasure would ever be restored. Knowing the history of damaged and neglected buildings in New Orleans, I was dubious.

We pulled up to the St. Roch graveyard. The wrought-iron gates were open, the mausoleums lining the way to the open door of the chapel. An uneasy silence enveloped the entire cemetery. I heard no neighbors, no traffic, no caretaker, nothing. Inside the chapel, I was relieved to find that the water damage had been repaired and the walls had a fresh coat of paint. Yet it looked neglected, open to the elements; cockroaches and leaves littered the floor. There were no votive candles to light. Otherwise, it was the same as I had remembered. But it wasn’t the same. Instead of saying a prayer of thanks to my good fortune, I said a prayer of “please God let me make it out of here alive”.
***

A few days later we took a drive down St. Bernard Highway. During the month of November, 2004, I had the pleasure of working on Charlie Melancon’s Congressional campaign in St. Bernard parish. I canvassed the neighborhoods of Mereaux and Violet and helped organize volunteers. I recall meeting friendly people, eating tasty shrimp, and enjoying the strange, subtle beauty of the bayou.

When I returned to St. Bernard after 4 years, I was hardly prepared for what I saw: where there were once houses there are now vacant lots; where there were once thriving neighborhoods there are now verdant, fields of green, interspersed with settlers. We drove on toward Braithwaite and the ferry at East Pointe a la Hache. The quiet and the overhanging, shady oaks along St. Bernard Highway reassured me.

I have one word to describe the medieval fiefdom of Plaquemines parish: gone.

I know I’m not the first, nor will I be the last to be entranced by the many charms of New Orleans. I’m doubtful of a promising future for New Orleans, but there is always hope things can change, that New Orleans can rise like the Phoenix from its own wet ashes. I truly admire my friends who have stayed to rebuild. I know that when they say how much they hate it, they love it equally, Odi et Amo:

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
Catullus LXXV

I hate and I love. Why I do this, perhaps you ask.
I do not know, but I sense that it is happening and I am tortured.

This is the paradox that we call New Orleans.”

Give Me Liberty, or Tax My Ice!

David — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 19:19:44 +0000

Earlier this week, discount airliner JetBlue decided to start a new fee for use of pillows and blankets for flights exceeding two hours in duration. In a statement released earlier this week, Brett Muney, general manager of product development for JetBlue, said, “We are constantly seeking ways to enhance the in-flight experience for our customers, and providing them the option to purchase The World’s Cleanest travel pillow and a fleece blanket at an affordable price delivers on that promise.” Hold on you say, there’s got to be more than just a ensuing static storm from the thin fleece sheet and germ-incubating head cushion? JetBlue apparently will spruce the seven dollar deal with a $5 coupon to any item at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I know. Don’t go spend it all in one place. This of course isn’t the first loss mitigating revenue plan the wizards of the airline industry have been conjuring up. This latest announcement comes on the heels of decisions in previous months to start charging fees for the second and even first checked bags. Other fees are included for additional legroom, and seating assignments. I suppose it isn’t quite so bad that you can keep the pillow and blanket, but I don’t see an advantage in buying some bite size pillow that will most likely end up in the trash can in the baggage terminal. That got me thinking, what could possibly be next on the list of items that airlines could potentially be putting their tariff stamps on…

Ice
To save costs on producing ice cubes, airlines begin charging $1 deposit for ice. Good news to those who finish their drinks in a timely and orderly fashion, you can receive up to 50% of your deposit back to be determined on how much of the ice is left. (Subject and terms may apply).

Window Seats
Want to catch a glimpse of that spectacular Siskiyou Range on that flight from LAX to Seattle or hopefully snap a pic of Mount Ranier rising out of the clouds? Window seats will now carry a $20 fee, and an additional $5 for use of the newly installed coin operated blind.

Moviesландшафт
In an unexpected partnership with Blockbuster and Netflix, airlines will now require rental fees to watch in air movies on transatlantic flights. Customers can opt to add movies to their queue, but must be done so ahead of time. Standard rental rates of $5.18 apply for all purchases made independently.

Meet-N-Greet the Captain
No longer are the days where you can walk your bashful child up to the cockpit after the flight and say hello to the captain… for free that is. For only $4 your child can have a high quality Polaroid picture taken with the captain and crew for a lasting memory of your trip!

SkyMall Magazine
The ever popular SkyMall Magazine will now add to their section of Health & Wellnessколи под наем to include a new line of pain relievers and cold compressions to deal with the headaches of air travel.

Bathrooms
Similar to the some public toilets in Europe, a small fee of $1-2 will be enforced for those who wish to to use the facilities. Better think twice before you finish that $6 beer in the airport lounge before boarding the plane.

Of course I joke when I think about the likelihood of any of these ‘fees’ actually fulfilling the fruits of my imagination, but it certainly makes you wonder where the tipping point is. When will the issuance of additional fees and regulations will finally break against the will of the consumer. The real issue here is that airlines are looking for ways to keep ticket prices at a low, in attempt to appease the customer they are trying to provide options in attempt to get marginal ancillary returns. In a way, the fees seem like an unnecessary attempt to gain more money from the consumer; for all we know they’re slapping price tags on services and liberties willy nilly. The real question to be answered in coming year is to what extent will the consumer agree to keep shelling out the extra bucks, or would they rather just assume the higher prices in an all-encompassing price hike?

As it is now, Americans are traveling less as it is, and to pinch pennies, it would seem that the expendable luxury costs of ‘pillows and blankets’ aren’t necessarily worth the seven bucks. In my mind, the few hours of slightly less uncomfortable travel are not worth the trade off of giving up an hour lunch date. While airlines can continue to tax extra baggage, which is essentially applicable to every traveler, it seems that the absurdities of charging for extra luxuries are an impossible sell. When you start seeing ancillary revenues dip into the red, (the same revenue attempting to bolster the existing revenue shortfalls) you’re just further up the creek without a paddle, and we might just possibly see higher prices in spite of the failed experiment of charging for luxuries. At that point, I might reluctantly prefer the taxable luxuries. “I’ll just have a coke, but hold the ice.”

Looking Through the Smokescreen

David — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 17:54:43 +0000

Just over a week away from the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Summer Olympic Games in Beijing and while Chinese newspapers are reporting on the success of a trial run of their vehicle traffic plan and Yao Ming’s 14 point game against Australia, the rest of the western world is raising arms about the quality of air and the looming pollution problems in Beijing. It seems almost daily that the reports questioning the suitability of Beijing’s air quality for Olympic athletes come pouring in. Amidst the scrutiny that has taken place while the world prepares to turn its attention to the spotlight in Beijing, perhaps the real question should be: wù or wùran? Wù or wùran, or in English, fog or smog respectively, is a question that grapples with the issue of whether the ‘weather’ is at the dispense of an industrialized nation growing exponentially, or the natural causes due to its geography and physical surroundings. Local residents seem to be divided whether the gloomy Beijing haze is really as bad as it seems.

One look at the air in Beijing on any given day certainly doesn’t offer the assurance that I’m sure the Chinese government wishes to purport that everything is just fine and dandy. It’s brown, hazy, thick, grainy, just about anything you’d expect from the water clarity of a used pot sitting in the sink. The one thing you cannot deny is that there certainly is a problem with Beijing’s air quality exposed to pollution and harmful substances. Just under a year ago in December 2007, Air Pollution Index (API) numbers were at a bloated range of 421 and 500, which is considered ‘hazardous’ provoking complications in people with respiratory as well as heart illnesses. General widespread symptoms include eye irritation, coughing, wheezing, and sore throats, etc. This rating is nearly 5 times the acceptable level offered by the World Health Organization (WHO). Within the past week leading up to the games, the daily API for Beijing has been listed between 50-90, exceeding the 100 mark twice, although it has also recorded low API numbers such as a 44 registered on Wednesday. Thats just a little over a typical API reading in Atlanta, GA, a city who also hosted a Summer Olympics. A general API range of 0-50 is considered to cause no adverse affects, with 50-100 creating acute problems to prolonged exposure. However, there have also been concerns as to how accurate the API scale really is since it collects an average from strategic points around the city, still leaving the potential for pockets of heavily polluted air to escape undetected. Just the past few days leading up to the Opening Ceremony of the Games, China authorities have drastically scaled back their pollution output by nearly 80% from less than a year ago by shutting down factories, scaling back traffic congestion, and overall restrictions to limit pollution. Du Shaozhong, deputy director of the Beijing municipal bureau of environmental protection, said, “Clouds and haze are not pollution. This kind of weather is a natural phenomenon. It has nothing to do with pollution.”

It may appear one one side that the Chinese have done a remarkable job in cutting down pollution, but the wù or wùran still exists. So what is it? One lingering question about the API levels reported out of Beijing has to do with a policy that the Chinese government has where they do not release data pertaining to the two of the most dangerous pollutants that can harm the respiratory system — ozone and fine particulate matter. Ozone pollutants come largely from vehicles, which should be reduced through the traffic restrictions that have now but put in place, however the concern over fine particulate matter as well as volatile organic compounds (VOCs) is another deep concern. Within Beijing there are a number of factories (which is nothing new), some of which are illegally run and operate at night to avoid scrutiny. Evidence of this can be found in the early morning, when the API is at its highest before the rush hour sets in. City officials plan on closing another 222 factories before the start of the games. More particulates in the air emerge from construction sites, where Beijing has been pushing to raise the city’s skylines. China is one of the fastest developing countries in the world with Beijing being a cornerstone of the nation’s production. As of 2006, China produced 34% of global steel. They consume about three times the amount of steel that the US uses, and make up approximately 2/3 of the steel consumption of all of Asia. Through the development and construction of new buildings, dust and other particulates enter the air, thus adding to the pollution problem. However, in an effort to get more ‘green,’ the Chinese government has been slowing their steel production and construction projects through September to assist in this problem as well.

So then there’s the question of wù or fog. Beijing is situated on a flat piece of land bounded by the Xishan (Chinese for “Western Hills”) mountains to the west. From the north, northwest, and west, the Xishan create an quasi-wall around the city that spills off to the eastern plains that lead out to the sea. Due to the convergence of tropical and polar air systems, Beijing has the unique distinction of experiencing extreme and harsh weather conditions with hot and humid summers from East Asian monsoon season, and dry, windy, and cold winters. Beijing is one of the few major cities not situated on a major water causeway, and relies on artificial reservoirs to sustain the city’s needs. The result is long hot bouts of humid air that becomes trapped over Beijing before it can dissipate. Another problem is the dust from the large desert steppes just over the mountains, can carry over the mountains during prolonged wind storms that carry over to Beijing. Appearances in Beijing may not be all they appear.

Ultimately, defining what’s in Beijing’s sultry skyline is hazy at best. In reality, the air quality is probably a combination of both fog and smog, but there is no real way of defining what you are sucking into your lungs. Unfortunately, Beijing probably won’t provide much in terms of stunning Olympic vacation photographs to show your family and friends, and long panning shots of the city by TV networks will most likely be held in check. Beijing is an unfortunate victim of both its location and development. My guess is when the events get underway, the whole smoke over air quality will probably blow over, and we will be witness to memorable sports moments in China’s forbidden city, which are the real reason why we enjoy the games. Is the air the most desirable? Probably not, but then again, that’s the consequence you have to pay for deciding to host a largely outdoor venue in one of the world’s most notoriously noxious cities. You do have to commend the event organizers for the efforts they have taken to decrease the air pollution as much as they have, but I wonder how long the efforts will be sustained. How long after the world stage shuts off the lights, and closes the curtains until the smokestacks begin puffing smoke again, and construction and development begins again. The future looks hazy at best.

Asphalt Recycling, Glycol Containers, and the Greening of Our Airports

Christy — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:07:31 +0000

This day and age, everything is coming up green, from hybrid cars to recycled paint to sustainable bamboo clothing. Next in line: green airports. If you think about it, airports are really a great place to make environmentally-friendly strides, since they host millions of travelers (and almost as many fuel-guzzling airplanes) and use tons and tons of energy during the 24 hours a day they’re open. Although the aviation industry only makes up about 2-3% of greenhouse gas emissions in the world, making airports greener is another one of those small steps that can make a big difference.

In case you’re wondering, It’s not only the carbon impact on the ground of the airports that matters, but also the impact in the air. Think of it this way: for one person, one cross-country flight (say from Los Angeles to New York City) emits about 1.1 tons of CO2 into the atmosphere (check out http://www.climatecare.org/us for a carbon calculator); imagine the carbon output of the over 1.5 billion people that take to the skies each year! Reducing the carbon footprint of airplanes is a battle being fought by various airlines as we speak, but that’s a topic for another blog… On to eco-friendly airports.

So, what are airports doing to help shrink their carbon footprints? Here are a few stand-out performances by airports around the world who are actively working to become greener. (This list is not, by any means, exhaustive, it’s only a sample of some of the more eco-friendly airports around the world. Kudos go to all of the facilities that are greening-up; I just didn’t have the space to mention them all here!)

East Midlands Airport, Derby, UK
In 2007, this airport was awarded the World’s Leading Eco-Friendly Airport award by the World Travel Awards. Things that make it green:
-Will become carbon neutral by the year 2012.
-Has an on-site recycling facility that recycles 25-30% of the airport’s waste.
-Plans to install wind turbines on airport land to generate clean energy.
-Installed a stormwater management system to ensure groundwater quality.

Christchurch International Airport, Christchurch, New Zealand
Things that make it green:
-Recently became the first carbon-neutral airport in the southern hemisphere.
-Has an asphalt recycling program for runway maintenance.
-Installed temperature control systems that use local underground water aquifers for natural heating and cooling.
-Landscaping with grasses that don’t require pesticide spraying and don’t require as much mowing.

Logan International Airport, Boston, Massachusetts
Things that make it green:
-Installed 20 wind turbines on-site, with more to come.
-Turns off moving walkways between 12:30am and 3:30am, when the fewest people are in the airport.
-Contracted a cleaning company that will be required to use green cleaning products.
-Installed a self-dimming lighting system and heat-reflecting windows and roof.
-Purchases $300,000 of renewable energy credits per year to offset operations.

Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, Dallas, Texas
Things that make it green:
-Replaced almost all on-site vehicles on site with alternative fuel vehicles (583 vehicles out of 631).
-Renovated the central heating and cooling plant to reduce peak energy usage by 77%.
-Built glycol-containing systems to contain glycol from deicing procedures before it seeps into the ground.

Coming Home to St. Lucia

David — Fri, 11 Jul 2008 20:44:13 +0000

In the spirit of welcoming Home & Abroad’s new Caribbean destinations, I thought I might share with you a trip I made with my family to the small West Indies island of St. Lucia. The time-honored tradition of traveling with the parents is something immortalized by National Lampoon and felt in the hearts and minds of every family. How do we get along with the people we love the most, and when it’s over, are we more the better for having gone through it?

When I “graduated” from the 8th Grade, my parents set sights on a family vacation that celebrated not only the graduation of my sister from college and brother from high school, but a homecoming of sorts. On my dad’s side of the family, my French roots slipped from the European continent into the coral reefs of the Caribbean. This is where the origins of the “Louis” name every generation of males have carried on since the eighteenth century all the way down my father’s line to my brother. It was something that at the time was exotic and exciting, but I had no idea of what to expect aside from the assurances from my parents that there would be plenty of sunshine and water to bask in and that with no law against underage drinking, I could enjoy one beer…at dinner…no more. So I packed my bag with swim trunks and single Hawaiian shirt that entitled us to “island living” on the two week sojourn south to the place I have only heard vague stories about through my dad.

I had never traveled out of the country prior to the United flight we jumped from Denver to Dallas, Dallas to San Juan, and San Juan to Castries, and the experience was something of eye opener for me. Just think how big our globe really is when it takes a full days worth of dashing through airports just to traverse 30 degrees latitude south? Over the drone of a double prop plane from San Juan I couldn’t sleep, too excited to expedite the waiting game of getting to the tropical paradise. When we finally arrived in St. Lucia it was still night time. Shrouded in darkness I couldn’t tell what way was the ocean or what way was the jungle. The oceans would have to wait until tomorrow. The first thing that struck me and had the most lasting impression on me was the smell of the island. Thick with musky air from the humidity and faint smell of fire and coal pots burning in the background. It felt so foreign to anything I was expecting. I suppose I never really thought that I would be welcomed in and wrapped up by this blanket of tropical bliss, but perhaps moreso it was the first realization that I had about our perception of place. Often times it is devastatingly different than how we would have envisioned it. We went through the “customs” or rather a small desk in the middle of a kitchen-size room. with a sole attendant who swiftly stamped us through. From there we climbed into a small boat and took the short ride along the winding highway to our hotel in Marigot Bay. The beams of the headlamps illuminated the deep trenched gutters of the narrow road as we winded up back roads and along the west coast of the island. I’m sure from above, the voyage looked much more romanticized of the single car winding up the thick forested jungles of the coast, but from inside it was darkness and coal pots burning in my mind. The hotel we stayed at was a collection of bungalows scattered along the steep hillside across Marigot Bay. You had to take a water taxi to reach the opposite side where no roads were found. Again in darkness we piled into a small outboard motorboat as we putted across the black water. I remember putting my hand in the black water and remembering how warm it was. That first night was incredible. I slept on the balcony facing the bay and was surprised at the symphony of bugs and animals piercing the night sky while little lights flickered intermittently around the dark hills of the bay. We all sat and played Hearts in T-shirts as we took in the only thing we could; the audible impression of a dark island.

The next morning we all arose to the bright blue day, and I awoke with probably 50 mosquito bites all over my body. Turns out paradise is not only for people, but the bugs who dine on fresh meat. Despite the itchy skin we set out to explore a little of the island. My dad, dressed in short shorts, Hawaiian shirt, and a beat-in Colorado Avalanche hat to make any teenager feel embarrassed was pacing like a little kid with a folder of papers that he had collected about our family history. While we were going to head into town to check out the Castries Market, he would head over to the cathedral to go through church records. I suppose this is a great place to stop and explain that in my family, family vacations have a certain degree of predictability. Expect each day to bring an itinerary: mapped out, perfect, planned, museum reservations, hotel reservations, booked taxis, tables for five, and an inexplicable lust not to waste the day. And so was it with our trip to a place where the mantra is notoriously described as being on “island time.” Nethertheless, we would attempt to complete all the items on said itinerary as possible. When we arrived in Castries to begin day one, it was somewhat of a surreal experience. Being a minor celebrity for the color of my skin (about 82.5% of the island is of African decent, whereas another 11% is of Carib or Indo-Caribbean decent), to put it bluntly, we stuck out like a sore thumb. Many of the local people living on St. Lucia don’t really see to many white people. Unless you work or live in a touristy area, or the higher-end settlements of the Northwest, chances are many have only seen a white guy a handful of times, and even so you attract a quasi-celebrity status on your time here. There was a kind of internal tension that I remember feeling about this conflict of the perceptions of my European ancestors who lived on this island and how I was inexplicably linked to a plantation past. To go to the Caribbean, it’s naive to ignore the cultural and social implications that slavery has brought to these islands. Despite the fact that the French were notoriously republic in their handling of slaves, and reading recorded accounts that my father had collected mentioning my forefathers assisting with slave revolts and helping the Brigands fight against the British pro-slavery sentiment, how do I as a fourteen year old teenager come to terms with a dark patch on humanity? How can I not feel the guilt associated with it despite the fact that I am essentially 200 years and three generations removed?

Weary of this fact, I was surprised how friendly and welcoming a majority of the people were to us. My brother and I met a friend at our hotel who was a bodyguard of sorts. When someone would approach my brother to see if he was interested in buying some ‘ganja’ (a pretty regular occurrence associated with the tourist market in the islands), our friend would tell them off and yell at them in Kweyol. He would bring us mangoes each morning and tell us the best spots to go find fresh food and places that the locals enjoy the best. I remember a group of kids we found on the bay at the end of Marquis river, riding horseback and catching crabs with their hands. I remember talking to the bartender about the rules of cricket, as a grainy image of bowlers and betters ran wickets on a small television set. The was enveloped by the spirit of a people that didn’t see race, but saw people as for how they were.

Under the frequent splash of rain that would come over the island then dissipate off in the hot island air, we traveled around our ancestral home, meticulously working through the itinerary: botanical gardens for mom, check; pigeon island military fort for dad, check; pools and sun for my brother, sister, and I, check; as well as various historical spots dotted around the island. My favorite day came when we packed in our rental car and faced the winding road south to Soufriere to check out my ancestral home. Soufriere was the first permanent French city on the island, and much of it retains its historical legacy through the architecture. In the back seat of the car sipping on a glass bottle of Coke I remember traveling over the small disheveled roads staring out at dozens of school children walking to school over the roads. As we crested over the hill above the city, the Pitons emerged into view– twin green mountains that seemed to rise from the sea. At the time I remember a sense of recognition in some kind of way that I cannot describe. Perhaps it was a recognition of my family’s home, or perhaps it was a recognition of the same beauty that attracted my ancestors to settle here for over a hundred years. In the church graveyard of the city were the final resting place of some of my forefathers, and for the first time I recognized my father’s realization of the place where he can trace himself back to.

One day, leaving my mother and sister behind to hang out by the pool and read, the boys headed south back to Soufriere to try and locate the actual place where my family lived during their years on St. Lucia. We booked a taxi and our taxi driver agreed to spend the whole day helping us locate our old home. With surveying maps and eighteenth and nineteenth century accounts drawn up in a random assortment of records and letters, my father set out with a difficult task of standing on the same ground of his grandfathers. With the help of our driver, we found a tattered dusty road and headed down it into a banana field. There wasn’t much of anything except for the dust the churned up from the wheels of our cab until we stopped. My father got out of the car, lifting his glasses to peer closer to the map he held and headed to a little trail that was no more than a small clearing in the grove of trees. At the end of the 30 foot ‘path’ there stood an empty shell of a brick sugar mill. The top had fallen in and the little opening in the front revealed a few small bushes growing in the inside cavity. It was a profound moment for my father, brother, and I. Two generations of Marucheau sons stood in front of a past generation’s livelihood and remnant of their home. I remember looking over the banana fields and trees of the wooded area and tried to picture the island as my ancestors did, but I couldn’t. It was too far past, separated from the life I live. There’s not much you can really do when you come in contact with a remnant of your past. You touch it, try to grab a hold of it, and then you have to move on. After about five minutes, we quietly got back in the car and drove back down the dusty road we had come.

Today I have come to realize that our family vacation in St. Lucia almost 10 years ago to the day was less about us going to live the spoils of the Caribbean than it was about my father finding out about where he comes from. The rare and unique opportunity to connect with your past is something that you have to take when you get the chance. The day that the three Marucheau ‘boys’ stood on their forefathers’ home is something that no book or map will ever convey. I’m glad for my father that he was able to finally make that connection, and I too felt happy that I was able to experience it with him. When I remember our trip to St. Lucia, I can’t recall what the pool that we fondly swam at looked like, or how the fried plantains tasted like as they melted on my palate, or even if I still have any of the souvenirs I bought collecting dust in a box somewhere, but I can recall two memories more vividly than any photograph can capture. The image of an old run down sugar mill nestled in a grove of trees, and my father, dressed in his embarrassing tourist garb, grinning ear to ear when he finally was able to come ‘home.’

Finding Fun in My Own Backyard

Adi — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 20:22:45 +0000

It’s time we fight back against all this ruckus of rising gas prices. Let’s play in our own backyards! I think it’s time to get creative and take back our weekends, even if we may not be able to pack up and drive across the state every weekend, it’s time we find other hobbies that will make us excited for the weekend.

Search our website, homeandabroad.com, to find things to do and places to see in your own back yard. Who knows, you may find something that you’ve never considered exploring!

Other examples of what you can do this weekend:

Have you ever considered rock climbing? No? You’d be surprised at how addicting it can be and fun it is to go in the early morning, when others are still sleeping.

Have you checked out what kind of farmers markets are happening around your area? Now that it’s summer, it’s likely that your town, or neighboring town, has a weekend market where fresh fruit and produce, along with local art, are being sold. Even if you don’t purchase the next van Gogh, you can sample the food and mingle with other locals.

Is there a music festival in town? I lucked out when I moved to Boulder because there are blue grass, folk, hard rock, and bagpipe festivals all around me in the summer. Check out what’s happening on line by googling the music you like and the city you live in.

Do you enjoy wine or beer? Take a friend on a brewery tour. Even if it’s your second or third time, you can still make it fun by bringing new people and larger groups. Another way to experience the brews for the first time is to blindfold one another and identify the beer and it’s composition during a taste test.

Is there a book or magazine you’ve been wanting to read? Treat yourself to the latest issue of ESPN, or Cosmo, pack a picnic and frisbee, and lounge in the park for a day. Tell your friends to come and turn your solo time into a long overdo barbecue with music and everything.

Take a camera and practice your shots around the city. Sure you’ve driven by that building a hundred times, but challenge yourself to view it differently through the lens. Plan the shots you want to take before heading out and check off your list as you capture the subject. Don’t have a camera? Any friend who has one will love to help you with this project, while also getting in quality bonding time.

Go fishing! Go biking! Rent movies and stay at home with the one you love! Bake a pie, or better yet, tell your friends to bake pies then have a party with pie! Take a walk and see where you end up!

Or, splurge and check out last minute airfare for the weekend and go guiltlessly. Don’t know what to do when you get there? Check out Home & Abroad for to find out where the action is.

Turn Down the Oven for Pete’s Sake!

David — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 22:40:24 +0000

O’ summertime, to thee we are blessed. Somewhere in the moment that little white and pink flower buds on trees begin shedding in mass exodus and birds have wrapped up shutting down their internal radars as they settle in for warmer days up north, I begin shuffling checklists in my head. Out with the sweater-vests and in with the Bermuda shorts. I’ve got pink lemonade in one hand and my eyes set on a one of the issues that seems to emerge every year at this time, and I think it always starts with: “boy it feels pretty hot today, huh Ted?”

Every year when the sweat begins accumulating on our shirts and the humidity swells in like an ocean squall trapped in a teacup, the topic of Global Warming wakes up from its hibernation into the forefront of minds and conversations. Every year its sung at a different pitch, but the tune is the same, we’re slowly deteriorating our Earth. To the rabble of Global Warming dissenters and warning-wavers, there are distinctly two groups that can agree on one thing. Either you do or you don’t.

A look back on this past winter we have seen a mixed variety of weather patterns. Record breaking snowfall seasons from not only typical snow-monging states like Colorado, Michigan, New Hampshire, and Wisconsin, but across the Northern Hemisphere including large parts of China and Dali-esque reports coming from Iraq. Sure didn’t feel like it was getting warmer to dozens of snow resorts peppered across the Rocky Mountains that enlisted later store hours this season.

What can’t be denied is that our weather feels like its turning on us. It’s becoming more extreme, more temperamental. more like nasty Aunt Tilda. As we joyfully welcomed in 2008 with ticker tape and champagne we also saw a wild barrage of extreme weather events come crashing into the social and political stratosphere as we coped with weather-related incidents. April showers are supposed to harbor in May flowers, but on May 2nd, Cyclone Nargis brought political strife and social concern to Burma as upwards to 2 million people are still reeling in the effects of a tragic storm that affected many parts of the country. That’s not all. Back in the US, an unprecedented number of tornadoes have already set a torrid pace of extreme weather scenarios sweeping from Colorado to all across the Midwest, and experts predict an “above-average” hurricane season, anticipating at least four major hurricane systems to sweep in from the warming Atlantic.

Just today the UN Environment Programme (UNEP) reported on a startling 400-page report in Johannesburg from President Thabo Mbeki of the Republic of South Africa, outlining the drastic change occurring within the African continent. The report “underlines how development choices, population growth, climate change and, in some cases, conflicts are shaping and impacting the natural and nature-based assets of the region” stated the UNEP News Release. The continual changes in Global Warming are leaving devastating impacts on both Africa’s resources and travel destinations, including the drying of Lake Chad, Lake Victoria, and de-glacierization of Mt. Kilimanjaro. We are effectively seeing the complete alteration of the African continent. In ten years there will not be a majestic white-capped Mt. Kilimanjaro. There will not be the the overwhelming beautiful mist rising off the infinity of Victoria Falls. Lake Chad will be a mudlake. The implications of these thoughts can be overwhelming for travelers, who are literally seeing the world they wish to explore crumble before their eyes.

With the rising Global temperatures, we also see a disturbing impact on oceans, and coral reefs in particular. Coral reefs are homes to an abundant number of sealife (not to mention beautiful captivating sights) as well as a hotbed of scientific research including bone treatments and cancer and AIDS therapies. Not only to coral reefs have vast scientific and medical benefits, but they also protect our shores from typhoons and hurricanes as a natural barrier, and create habitats for fish in our food harvest.

To think Global Warming is propaganda put forth by politicians in clean suits and full pockets is reprehensible. The facts are our global climate is shifting invariably whether we choose to except it or not. Global Warming should not be a question of whether it feels hotter; the question should rather be if and to what extent are we culpable for our changing weather? It seems to be something that we are not ready to cope with.

In Congress this past week a bill footed by Lieberman-Warner concerning considerable attention to our environmental policies on Global Warning dismissively was shown the door. I hope we aren’t in dire circumstances before we give climate change its due attention.

I know some people may read this and think, “well thanks for the guilt trip Joe Schmo, so why are you so chipper about summer?” You have to be able to take the good with the bad. Global Warming is a terrible thing, but that doesn’t mean a negative perspective on the topic will suffice in altering global thought. To quote a much smarter man than I, Carnegie-Mellon professor Randy Pausch said: “”We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.” By becoming aware of the problems we can effectively make choices to address them. When we travel to we look at ways of exploiting local environments or do we seek to find out how we can procure a sustained relationship with the beautiful places we so eagerly enjoy? How do we change things in our own lives?

With the emergence of summer, our options become more clear as our communities open up and the weather turns fair. I’ve always believed that you have to start small. Can we ride bikes or walk to work? Can we get involved in local markets and agriculture? With the sunny and shoeless days of summer brings new relationships and choices. Global Warming shouldn’t be a slobbering giant ready to swallow us whole or taken on by one country, instead it should present the opportunity to look beyond trivial differences and find out how do we connect as a community to address our problems. Let’s work together.

Connections

Heiser — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 18:55:30 +0000

One of the standard news tropes that gets trotted out around Memorial Day is the summer travel outlook, and surely you heard approximately how many people would hit the road or head to the airport that particular weekend. When oil costs $130 per barrel, that affects where and how people transport themselves for any given vacation, so its understandable that traveler consternation at $4 per gallon gasoline and steep airline fuel surcharges is indeed part of the discussion, especially in a recession.

But in the focus on consumer shock at the rising costs of travel, something gets lost. What is lost is an explanation of why oil is $130, why aggregate demand for oil is so high, and why Americans are forced into enduring the pain at the pump. To begin to untie this very knotty band of public policy problems, let me start with a bit about myself. I was born and raised in Denver, and for me, summertime means it’s time to put gas in the car and head west on I-70 towards the mountains. For most of my life, those plans cost a tank of gas, maybe $20 or $30. Now, it’s more like $60 or $70, but demand remains the same, for me and for the millions of others who come to Colorado for their vacations.

And this is true wherever you’ve grown up, whether in Kansas City or Greensboro or Denver. The desire to get going and enjoy the sun, whether on a beach or on a mountain plateau, is universal. Millions of Europeans move south to the warm beaches along the Mediterranean in the same way. Yet what isn’t universal is the infrastructure, which influences the demand for oil, which then influences the price of gas, which then affects your travel plans. American’s travel infrastructure is primarily the highways and byways that network this vast country. In purely economic terms, this creates an artificially high inelasticity of demand for oil, meaning we are likely to pay the price of gas regardless of cost. It’s artificially high because we don’t have any other choice.

Nowhere is that more clear than here in Colorado. The connection is the recent froth surrounding relieving traffic congestion along the I-70 corridor, which has been the source of decades-long tension among environmentalists, mountain communities, and transportation authorities. Anyone who has been skiing in the winter or fly fishing in the summer has probably experienced a mind numbing traffic jam along I-70. Finally, though, after a 10-year study, this coalition of stakeholders including the Colorado Department of Transportation and representatives from the affected communities have agreed, in principle, to a different approach: widen the highway to 6-lanes and build a mass transit alternative to driving. This mass transit solution seems likely to be a monorail, which is expected to cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $5 billion.

This is an idea whose time has finally come. It’s kind of a quixotic solution, first mentioned when Denver rebuffed the Olympics in 1976. It has percolated somewhere in the ether, occasionally popping up again and again, only to be scrapped in favor of papering over the congestion. But now that people’s consumption choices are being altered by the realities of this economy, the penny wise, pound foolish paradigm has shifted. Mountain communities are realizing that their tourism industries will suffer unless there is an alternative to the privilege of sitting through brutal gridlock after just being abused by the price of gas. Environmentalists, worried about the potential for degradation during the construction of the mountain rail, are now realizing they have bigger fish to fry as the planet warms to record temperatures. And the state’s politicians, content with surface solutions and afraid to rock the boat, are now realizing that the state’s tourism industry is in trouble unless they make this move. And everyone is now realizing just what there is to gain.

If we can get this done in Colorado, we can get this done just about everywhere. We can take pressure off of the nation’s highways, off our wallets, and off our planet. The implications for travel are especially ripe, but as you’re headed out to wherever summer brings you, remember Candide: “Is this the best of all possible worlds?” The answer here in Colorado, as elsewhere, seems to be no. It’s time to demand some alternatives.