Our first and only stop before crossing into France was near the Flemish town of Ypres, where we pulled into a small private museum known alternately as Sanctuary Wood or Hill 62. For Canadians, this is the area immortalized by the poem “In Flanders Field”, which combined with poppies worn on Remembrance Day form the… Read More Overlord
Ian and I met at Heathrow, the same airport we began way back in 2002 on what was my first trip outside of North America. Fresh high school graduates, we were part of a group of five backpackers spending a month in Europe. Ian and I enjoyed it enough to make another two-man trip across… Read More Reunion Tour
I’m a restless traveler. I don’t like sleeping in and the idea of a full beach day makes me deeply fidgety. Given the choice, I’d rather be out in a city, town, forest, mountain – somewhere – moving my feet. This used to manifest as constantly going from one place to the next, wanting to… Read More Leaning In
Like Rome, I had been to Berlin, our last stop, nearly two decades ago. Sandwiched between my self-important and overwrought teenage musings, my old journal notes that Berlin felt like the first dynamic place, a city not preserved but alive and changing, one that subverted my sheltered expectations of Europe. It has that same feeling… Read More Standing by the Wall
Initially I was considering a pair of daytrips outside of Rome during our six days there, in addition to the wedding-related activities we were signed up for. After a few busy days, I realized that would be a thorough over-commitment and a surefire recipe for trip burnout. So Naples, specifically Pompeii, landed on the editing… Read More Florentine Diversion
How does one even start to write about Rome? What new or insightful take is there on a city that has been visited for thousands of years, a seat of a republic, then empire, the home of the Pope and his church, the capital of Italy? My only experience here was over two decades ago,… Read More Bread and Circuses
It’s a short flight from Belgrade to Rome. Italy’s capital was the driver for this entire trip: we were here to celebrate the wedding of a long-time (I won’t say old) friend of mine from Oregon. True to stereotype, I arrived at Fiumicino to a frustrating sequence of long airport lines and a disorderly train… Read More Il Matrimonio
Belgrade gradually disappeared from behind the windows as the train headed north, first from the depths of Prokop station, then over the Sava River, finally emerging, after a short series of suburban stations, into the Pannonian Plain. Periodically we would stop at small towns with red tile roofs to exchange passengers. I was mostly grateful… Read More Perched on the Pannonian Plain
The aviation industry is the obvious wild card, an obvious thought that recurred to me in the midst of whiling away six hours at the Frankfurt airport, asking myself important questions like why is there nobody at the information kiosk or a left luggage office so I can go into town? Despite a delayed arrival,… Read More The White City
We got to Lunenburg midday, just in time for Hannah to take a quick catnap in the rental car. My nap would come later, an unavoidable byproduct of a red-eye flight crossing nearly the entirety of Canada. In the meantime I busied myself walking the steep streets of the small town, bracketed by brightly painted… Read More Haligonian Holiday
Zak Abroad 