Fifty years ago I got my initial passport in anticipation of my first trip to Europe with my parents and brother over the Christmas holidays. Of course, I was already well on my way to qualify as a member of the Travelers’ Century Club with three countries on my personal list – the United States,
Over the course of the past year and a half, as I sat down to compose my quarterly President’s Message, I have always had several constant factors in mind, several of which I have actually noted in these columns. I always remember that I have an audience (or at least I hope to have one!)
One of the great advantages of membership in TCC is the opportunity for travelers to actually meet face-to-face in local chapters and “tell travel tales.” At our March meeting in Newport Beach, California, I handed out a survey sheet with this simple question: Please list one of your travel experiences which you would describe as
I recently read an online travel article wherein two correspondents rated the indigenous cuisines of “the 48 countries” of Europe (they obviously were not using the TCC Approved List or they’d have had more to consider!). The “usual suspects” were at the top and bottom of the list with Italy edging out France for the
“He/She loves me … He/She loves me not!” Accompanied by the plucking of flower petals, this romantic exercise continues until all the petals are gone and the fate of one’s love interest is resolved favorably … or another flower is selected in a classic case of “seeking a second opinion!” I sometimes wonder if a
Nat King Cole sang about those “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer,” and so these “dog days” seem like a good time to remember what travel was like before the invention or use of travel tools we take for granted today. A half-dozen years before my first trip overseas, I flew with my parents and
At this writing, I am preparing the final “check list” for an overseas trip. We leave in just a few days and, by the time this edition of The Centurian is online and printed, we will have returned. Now, we all journey in different modes – from group to independent travel, and from those who
We all began with One. For new TCC presidents that might mean one, first, official Message. And, indeed, this column is it. But for all of us — TCC members and everyone else–it means something entirely different. From the moment we took our first breath, we all began with One — One Country among the
I’d be hard pressed to think of an utterly more seductive feeling on earth than to stand in an airport or train station and watch the overhead sign whip through its letters to announce the faraway destination I’m off to. All those options! They’re the definition of freedom. (Okay, maybe I should get my head
What am I doing here? Who hasn’t asked him – or herself this question in some forlorn, neglected part of the world? This theme runs through the latest Paul Theroux book, Last Train to Zona Verde, a narrative of his travels from Cape Town to – ideally – Timbuktu. Only, after enduring a wretched border
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