When I was a kid, I saw the movie “The World of Suzy Wong” in San Francisco, and it transported me to a place I never imagined I’d see: Hong Kong. Even the name of the city excited me. One of the more memorable scenes in the movie takes place on one of the famed Star Ferries named “Twinkling Star.” I loved that name and imagined what it would be like to be aboard. Fast forward many years, and what do you know? I moved our family to Hong Kong.

One day, I was standing at the Star Ferry Terminal in Hong Kong waiting to board that very ferry for the first time. The ride offers up one of the great bargains in the world, especially if you opt to ride in second class, which is on the main deck. Occasionally, I’d splurge and go first class on the top deck, but that wasn’t where Suzy (and Bill Holden) rode, so neither would I.

I lived in Hong Kong with my family for four years, and over that time, I had ample opportunity to ride the many Star Ferries back and forth. More often than not, I’d wait for the next one if it happened to be “Twinkling Star.” My daughters thought I was nuts, but in time they also came to understand my quirks (one of many, I assure you). Who knew how much that movie would affect my life?

From the second you walk into the Mandarin Oriental in Bangkok, you’ll have a guest experience that is unique and memorable.

When we first moved to Thailand, the Oriental had just completed the hotel “tower,” which was a spectacular addition to the property. The main restaurant was called the Normandie room featuring fantastic food with a sweeping view.

It was the best place to dine in Bangkok.

Everything is flawless; the staff is beyond accommodating, the decor incredible, and a sense of calm surrounds you. There’s just not another hotel in Thailand like the Oriental.

I have stayed in both the Superior rooms and on one occasion, I was miraculously given the Authors’ suite, which must be seen to be believed. I’ve stayed in many, many hotels around the world and this is the suite I’d like to live in for the rest of my life.

Moments after my arrival, a charming staff member brought in a welcoming fruit arrangement that was so beautiful I didn’t want to disturb one piece. However, I did, and it was delicious. Mind you, this was in the days before Instagram, so I took a photo of the arrangement with my trusty Minolta film camera.

Dining here is still incredible; I love the Riverside Terrace that overlooks the Chao Phraya river and the Terrace Rim Naam. The Bamboo Bar is perfect. It’s been a part of the hotel since the opening and offers a warm, inviting place to sit and enjoy drinks and evening entertainment.

While Bangkok seems to operate on Warp Speed 24/7, the Oriental is calm, gorgeous and so beautiful you’ll never want to leave (I certainly didn’t want to.)

If Anna and The King of Siam were to invite me to lunch, this is where I’d want to be.

Pretty soon, everyone will be able to visit the Memphis Belle in her new home.

While her new home is the National Museum of the United States Air Force, other exhibits offer dramatic insight into the people, men and women, who made military aviation history from all perspectives, before, during and after the US Air Force was formed.

There are aircraft of every type imaginable.

In each of the galleries are displays about the people who flew the planes and made history. The various artifacts include personal memorabilia, uniforms, books, and military awards for all military ranks.

When you read the personal display information, you get a powerful sense of what each individual experienced; frequently it’s tough to believe the events took place as described. Their exceptional heroism and dedication to every task and assignment are remarkable.

As I was walking through the World War II gallery, I noticed a very special B-29 Superfortress, the one named “Bockscar.” This plane dropped one of the “Fat Man” atomic bombs in August of 1945.

I happen to live in Oak Ridge, Tennessee – where much of the design, development, and delivery of these atomic bombs took place. Living in this city gives me a unique perspective on how, and more importantly, why these bombs were made and used during the conflict.

Two days after visiting the museum I happened to watch the movie “Memphis Belle” again, and it made me think that this actual airplane will soon join her “sister” ship, “Bockscar.” Visiting this museum is to experience a chapter in history that we’ve all read about, but haven’t actually seen.

Don’t miss this chance.

If you’re a “foodie” like me or just a traveler looking for a great hotel that you might not select, The Cavendish Hotel in London is for you.

This is a property with a long, long history of exceptional service, accommodations, and location. The guest rooms are spacious, gracefully designed, and perfect for both leisure and business travelers.

My preference is for their Executive rooms; they are luxurious and offer a walk-in shower that I wish I had at home. Their restaurant is comfortable and elegant, and home to their daily afternoon tea service. The Petrichor bar is a great place to meet for pre-theatre snacks and drinks blended with a flavor of the 1920s.

The location on Jermyn Street is perfect.

From one end of Jermyn Street to the other, it’s packed with places that offer the best of what London offers. Steps away from the hotel are one of my favorite food shops, Paxton, and Whitfield.

They offer world-class cheeses, including the best Stilton I’ve ever had. A few more paces away are Fortnum and Mason. Visiting here is a “foodie” must, and it’s possible to spend a couple of hours (and hundreds of British Pounds) here surrounded by delights.

I am so fortunate to have visited some of the most beautiful hotels around the world. While most of them are somewhat predictable, the Keio Plaza Hotel in Tokyo knocked me out.

I stayed here for two nights in one of their Tatami Suite accommodations.

I don’t know how I ever ended up in this incredible suite, but it was one of the most unusual, comfortable, and memorable hotel experiences I’ve ever had.

Most especially since this suite is located in a high rise hotel; one you’d never, ever, believe had such a suite. When you walk off the elevator and open the door to this suite, you are momentarily stunned at what you see.

To say it’s beautiful is an understatement.

It’s subtle, calm, and unique. It’s on a very high floor of the hotel (I think it was the 40th floor) which makes this even more amazing. The bed was a traditional futon; the room was large enough to accommodate at least four people, and the traditional Japanese bath was, in a word, incredible.

I’ll never forget this suite, ever.

As children from a certain age, we didn’t know how well off we were then. Long before the advent of Tandy computers and 6″ screens, we had portable devices of our own.

They were called pencils.

Incredibly I still have one from my childhood school. It’s light blue with the words “San Francisco School System” proudly printed on the side in white letters. One might wonder how (or why) I’d have a pencil that is nearly 70 years old. However, anyone who knows me well will understand.

Spring Valley Elementary School on Jackson Street in San Francisco handed out these pencils (free, I might add) to any student. Since I love new pencils, with the freshly sharpened smell I probably asked for one every day. No one seemed to be concerned that I went through them at the speed of light.

Many years after I left Spring Valley I was driving down Jackson Street and passed the school. I pulled over, parked, and went inside for the first time in decades. The first thing I noticed was that the school smelled exactly like it did when I was a student there.

You had to spend years at the school to know what I mean.

I wandered into what was my kindergarten class. It looked the same, with small tables and tiny chairs. In a few moments, a young teacher walked in and thinking that I was someone’s grandparent cheerfully asked if she could help me in any way.

I replied that I’d been a student in that very classroom when I was a child. She was thrilled. It was like I’d opened a door for her to peer into and to imagine what it must have been like “then.”

She was so excited she asked me if I’d like to go upstairs to the principal’s office to meet her. I declined the opportunity to meet the principal. However, I did walk upstairs, and as I rounded the corner, I saw the exact same white bench outside her office that was there when I was a student.

I remembered it all too well.

When I drive around, I always wish everyone had an American Flag to display.

Hey, US Government here’s an idea. Set aside a tiny portion of our annual Government Budget to distribute flags from our Post Office locations to any citizen who’d want one.

Free. Help yourself to one, compliments of your United States Federal Government.

I love to go out in the morning and raise my flag for the day. I return in the evening to take it down and carefully roll it to store for the next day.

Here in the South, you see a lot of American Flags flying, from large ones above car dealers to the small ones affixed to the back of a motorcycle. No matter the size, it’s our flag, and it’s everyone’s right to display it.

Let everyone share this pride.

For many years I’ve attended a travel conference in Berlin, and on one memorable occasion, it was held around the time the Berlin Wall was coming down. I knew I wanted to see the wall again, especially as it was actually coming down, so when I was planning my trip to Berlin, I included a small hammer and chisel in my bag.

Sure enough, one day, a friend and I went to the Wall to see what’s up. Everywhere we looked, people were trying to knock out a piece of the wall. People were renting ladders and hammers from forward-thinking entrepreneurs, but I was ahead of the game.

I brought my stuff with me.

I asked one of the people there if I could borrow his ladder for a short time. He agreed, and I began hammering into the wall and chiseling pieces off. Let me say right now that was one hard wall. It was solid concrete, reinforced beyond belief.

This was Class A, East German concrete.

I was teetering on the ladder right above where my friend took this photo. I was pounding the wall, and small pieces began to fall off. I managed to hack off several pretty good size pieces with minimal damage to my knuckles.

I brought the pieces (and my equipment) back to San Francisco. As luck would have it, one of my daughters was studying the fall of the Wall in school. I gave her a handful of brightly colored concrete to take to school for show and tell. Suffice to say, she got an “A” on that project.

The photo here was taken while I was pounding away at the wall; I still have several pieces of the wall on my desk. I hope that this is the only Wall that restricted anyone’s movement anywhere in the world.

Eglise Saint-Germain-des-Pres is one of the oldest Churches in Paris and is located in the middle of one of the most exciting, interesting neighborhoods. Each time I visit Paris, I hop on the Metro and zoom over to the Church.

It’s always one of my first stops when I’m in town, primarily because I still, always light a candle there in memory of my Grandmother. I took the image shown above and tucked into the middle is one candle taller than the rest.

That one’s for you, Grandma.

On one of my visits, it was a cold, dark, and rainy day, and the Church steeple was covered in mist. I walked up to the steps and pushed against the closed front door. It was stuck, so I had to press a little harder to open the door.

Behind the door is a small vestibule before you actually enter the Church. I stood there for a moment before opening the second small door to enter. The door opened a couple of inches, and as I entered, I had one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

The Church was rather dark, and suddenly a ray of sunshine poured through one of the windows like a beacon directed to me. At almost the same moment, I heard an organist begin the opening notes of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” The music became louder and louder, with notes soaring to the very top of the Church.

I was transfixed. I thought to myself: “Wow, is this a sign, or what?”

I sat down for about 20 minutes while the organist continued the practice session. During that time the music started and stopped, and each time I was stunned that for that one session there were only three people in the Church.

The organist, my Grandmother, and me.

I