Author: globalwhiz@protonmail.com

I’m a dreamer at heart, proudly born and raised in San Francisco—a city that covers just 49 square miles but was heaven on earth for me. Every corner of The City (as we natives affectionately call it) has been a part of my life. No area ever felt too distant. With wide eyes and an open heart, I’ve always welcomed the world around me. I find joy in creativity, wonder, and discovering new possibilities—whether that’s through international work adventures or dreaming up the next exciting idea. Even though San Francisco was my hometown, my passport has taken me to many amazing places and introduced me to wonderful people, shaping me in countless ways. I carry pieces of these experiences and friendships with me wherever I go. Above all, I treasure my family, friends, and those small, meaningful moments that keep my spirit alive and thriving. I never want my curiosity to fade away.

How to ace the First Aid Merit Badge test.

Boy Scout uniform sleeve showing first aid badge and American flag patch
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Boy Scout uniform sleeve showing first aid badge and American flag patch

Each year, our Boy Scout Troop #136 headed to Camp Wolfeboro in Calaveras County, near Tamarack, California, for a week. It was so much fun, with time for all kinds of activities, including tests for our various merit badges. One year at camp, I was finishing my tests for the First Aid Merit Badge. I was down to the last part, which included a test to measure knowledge of basic first aid. I waited in line and soon found myself in front of the camp doctor for my final exam.

He began going through a series of questions, which I answered quickly and correctly. Then he asked me to give him an overview of hemorrhaging. Hey, every scout should know this, and I’m prepared to launch into my explanation. I was feeling very confident. I immediately told him all I knew about hemorrhoids.

This took about 2 minutes, during which the doctor seemed attentive and didn’t say a word to me. When I finished my discourse, I still felt like I’d aced that part of the test. At that point, he leaned back in the chair and said, “Anyone who knows that much about hemorrhoids certainly must know about bleeding,” and he gave me a passing grade.

Always remember: Be Prepared.

You’ll always remember Venezia

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Venezia

Every single thing about Venice is memorable.

Imagine boarding a plane in Atlanta, sitting in a really uncomfortable seat for 9 hours on your way to Italy. Finally, you land, making your way through an army of fellow travelers at immigration and customs, looking for the exit and a way to get to Venice.

You look for a machine that may or may not work for purchasing a ferry ticket to Venice. You find one, but unfortunately, the instructions are in Italian, and the machine only accepts Euros. The signs point in different directions, and you hope to see a boat to somewhere. None of this is familiar to you, even with your guidebook.

You persevere and find a boat that seems to be heading to where you want to be. Hop aboard and squeeze into a tiny space, and soon your boat is racing across the water towards the city. You aren’t sure where you’re going or where to get off, but this is one terrific ride, just like you imagined it to be. You hang on, try to use your iPhone to take photos, and hope you don’t drop it overboard.

Suddenly, the boat pulls in near Piazza San Marco (if you’re on the right boat) and you’re where you’ve always wanted to be. I took the image shown here while standing at that very dock, so if it looks familiar to you, great. You’re in the right place.

You’ll be surrounded by hundreds of fellow visitors. Since the streets of Venice are narrow, you’ll have to navigate (lugging your heavy bag) like salmon fighting to get upstream. It’s a challenge to see street signs and GPS signals, which are very, very iffy, so you’ll need to stop about every 10 feet to ask where you are and how to get to your destination. Don’t be concerned. Everyone does this. When you reach your hotel or destination, you’ll feel like you accomplished something extraordinary. My advice is to take a brief rest and go out headlong into the city.

Now the fun part. Even with the zillions of people around you, there are countless places to visit, eat, and enjoy. Walk till you drop. Then stop for a snack and a drink. Repeat. Forget the tours and the guides waving flags to keep you up. Venice is a walking town, and literally around every corner is something to discover. Buy an all-day ticket for the Vaporetto (it runs to and from docks everywhere) and enjoy the ride. At some point in the trip, you’ll think you’re a bit player in the movie “The Talented Mr. Ripley.” When that thought strikes, immediately hop off the boat and head for the nearest bar for a Negroni. Now that’s being a Venetian.

Around dusk, the lights surrounding Piazza San Marco (the Heart of the city) come on, and it’s a spectacular sight. The square is enormous and surrounded on three sides by lovely, old buildings with shops and cafes on their ground level. Facing the square is the beautiful St Mark’s Basilica — and off to the side, the Campanile di San Marco, which towers over everything. It’s an incredible light show in an incredible town.

It doesn’t matter if you’re in Venice for a day or a week. It’s impossible to stay still. The sounds of Venice begin before dawn and continue until late in the evening. Whatever your interests are, there’s something here for you. I always, always hate to leave this magical city.

The motorcycle and the doughnut.

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When we lived in San Francisco, I decided I had to have a motorcycle, specifically a Honda 550 4 model like the one shown here. Never mind that I didn’t have 10 minutes of experience riding a bike like that, nor the required license to drive one. These were minor details in my plan.

Sure enough, one day, a friend drove me to the Honda dealer in Alameda, California, which is across the Bay from San Francisco. Once at the dealership, I had a brief discussion with the salesperson, signed some papers, and, in a frighteningly short period, I was (with my bank) the owner of a brand-new blue Honda motorcycle. Up to that point, I hadn’t spent one minute trying to drive it.

Emboldened by my total lack of experience and knowledge, I hopped on (no helmet, please) and wobbled around their parking lot for about 30 minutes. That was plenty of instruction time for me, and I shortly found myself blasting across the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge on my way home, going at least 60 miles per hour. Miraculously, I made it home in one piece. Everyone was astonished.

I grew to love that motorcycle, and my daughters loved riding behind me as we discovered the hills and streets of San Francisco and up the coast to Point Reyes, Bolinas, and Sonoma for top-class picnics. Since I was now a skilled driver, at least in my own opinion, I wanted a regular and enthusiastic riding partner. Who better qualified than one of my daughters? Of my three daughters, my youngest was the most fearless, and she was up for anything I cooked up for us. To her, nothing was too ridiculous or dangerous.

A perfect match for me.

One Saturday morning, I woke before dawn; I went to her bedroom and shook her awake. I told her to quietly dress and meet me in front of our garage. Ok, Dad, another great plan waiting in the wings. It was just about dawn when we headed off on our adventure. She didn’t know where we were going, but it didn’t matter. We headed to the Golden Gate Bridge, which was a short distance from our house, riding up the highway entrance ramp. So far, so good. In a matter of minutes, we were screaming across the bridge just as the sun came up. It was a magnificent sight, and with very few vehicles on the road, we felt we were really flying.

We were, in a sense. We continued our ride to Sausalito, where we stopped for hot chocolate. At that point, she was up for going to Portland, Oregon, or any other place. I sensibly turned around, and we rode back to San Francisco, stopping at our favorite doughnut place, Ahren’s bakery, to select a dozen of their best.

We lived pretty close to that bakery, so we were back home in a few minutes. Everyone was still asleep when we arrived, so I put the doughnuts on the kitchen table, made coffee, and loudly announced to all that it was time to get up. Neither my daughter nor I mentioned our rip-roaring ride, so everyone presumed we walked down to the bakery. Hey, who knew that a doughnut tastes totally fantastic after greeting the dawn while blazing across the bridge? You know, I think that’s what dads are for.

The Spanish Olives and Jack Daniels

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Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid with crowds of people inside and outside at dusk

The two most beautiful benefits of travel are 1) meeting new people and 2) exploring everything about food. Madrid, Spain, is one of the top “foodie” destinations in the world; it’s impossible to walk for more than 2 minutes in any direction without seeing something fantastic to eat. On a sunny Saturday morning, we found ourselves wandering the side streets and happened to see a sign pointing to the Mercado de San Miguel. We continued along for a short distance, and before our eyes was a world-class food emporium. Open-air, bustling with people, food stalls, laughter, and enough to eat and drink for a very long time.

Everywhere we looked, it was jam-packed with people lined up for food and drink. Tables were scarce, so when someone saw a seat or two, it was a mad rush to get there before anyone else. We finally saw a table where four people were eating a vast spread of food with glasses of wine. There were two empty chairs, and I squeezed in, pressed up against an older gentleman from the group. They were really enjoying themselves and were polite to us when we sat down, moving closer together to give us more room.

I could hear them speaking in Italian, and I know enough words to make a significant impression on a child. Anyway, I pointed to a large bowl of olives they were eating and asked what kind they were. With that, he invited us to taste some. None of them spoke perfect English, but his wife leaned over and asked us where we were from. I replied, “Tennessee.” The man immediately lit up and said, “Yes, Jack Daniels!”

So, from that point on, we were all new friends. We all bought and shared a lot of food and drink and had a terrific time. At one point, the older man and his son-in-law disappeared; we took that as our signal to depart and started walking away down the small street. After a minute or so, we heard a young girl’s voice calling out to us, asking us to stop.

We turned around, and it was the man’s daughter gesturing to us. She said her dad had gone away to buy a special drink for us, and we had to return. Hey, who’d turn that down? When we approached the table, we saw six new glasses filled with a beautiful amber-colored liquid. He’d gone off to buy glasses of a fantastic Spanish brandy to salute our new friendship. He raised his glass and said to all: “Cheers to Jack Daniels!”

What a guy. What a family. And what a beautiful memory of Spanish Olives and our Tennessee whiskey.

Let’s take the 8AM train to Laos today?

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Train and cars crossing Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge over river during sunset

While we were waiting for our Thai permanent residence permits, we had to leave Thailand every 90 days and return as tourists. Then we waited another 90 days before leaving Thailand and returning with a new visitor’s temporary visa. Everyone had this process down pat and knew what to do. The Thai railway offered a route that was ideal for us (and our fellow travelers). There was a morning train that departed the Bangkok station at 0800 every day, reaching its final destination, Nong Khai, Thailand, in the afternoon. The same train left Nong Khai station a few hours later, giving all of us the chance to take a boat across the Mekong River to the Laotian side to have our passports stamped.

Once we got to the Laotian side, we climbed into one of several small taxis and sputtered off to Vientiane, where we arrived at the Lang Xang Hotel for lunch. Vientiane was once a French Colonial city, and even then, most people in the shops and hotels spoke French.

Everything about the restaurant, including the menus and food, was straight off a dusty Asian version of the Champs Élysées in Paris. Food was always great, and we washed everything down with cans of Beaujolais. Who knew? After lunch, we’d reverse the process, taking the taxi to the river and crossing back into Thailand at the ramshackle immigration booth, where we received our “new” entry stamp to stay in Thailand for another 90 days. We all reboarded the same train and wheezed our way back to the Bangkok train station some 12 hours later.

There were several variations of this immigration theme until we had our permanent visa, and we also took the Thai train several times from Bangkok to Butterworth (the arrival station for Penang, Malaysia) to repeat the process. This was just one more amazing experience in a long line of fantastic events.

We were so fortunate.

Oh man, do I miss PanAm’s seat 1J

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My all-time favorite airline to fly with was Pan Am. As a child, I watched Clippers take off and land in San Francisco, never imagining that I’d spend many, many hours aboard PanAm flights going somewhere.

PanAm was unique in the world of commercial aviation, setting world flight distance records, developing new routes, and setting the world standard for in-flight service. I’d go to great lengths to fly on Pan Am, at one point even buying shares in the company. The stock certificate hangs on my office wall to this day. Too bad it’s worthless.

They had two critical routes around the world. They were designated PanAm flights One and Two, and they literally circled the globe heading East and West. Living in Asia, I was pretty familiar with Flight One, and each time I was aboard one of their trips, it was an incredible experience. As a travel professional, I always tried to use my Clipper Miles for upgrades, and truth be told, when I hit their famed “Platinum” level, I was set. I loved flying aboard their 747s, and due to the particular configuration of their cabins, they had one extraordinary seat: 1J, as shown in the image above.

I wheedled, wangled, and begged to be accommodated in that seat. It was private, quiet, and for the time we were in the air, the most comfortable place on the aircraft. I should note at this point that no other person was seated next to this seat, and that was the best benefit of all. On an 8+ hour flight to somewhere, you just can’t imagine how nice it was to sit in silence and just enjoy the ride. I was (and am) so sad that PanAm is no more. When I reflect on that magical 1J seat, I am profoundly thankful that I flew aboard PanAm more times than on any other airline, then and now.

Thanks, PanAm, for everything.

Suzy Wong, The Twinkling Star, and me.

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Tstar

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?

I witnessed 2 Miracles in 1 minute.

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When my youngest daughter was born, I was standing less than six inches away from the doctor in the delivery room of the Bangkok Nursing Home. Many dads have witnessed the birth of a child; however, it’s unlikely that many were as close to the action as I was.

In the delivery room, I was inches away from Dr. Sermsak, our friendly Thai physician. As he leaned in closer, I could feel the doctor’s coat brushing against me as he guided my daughter into the world. That was Miracle number One. As he held my daughter up, I was still inches away from him when she took the very first breath of her life. I was so close to her; I could smell her breath. That was Miracle number Two.

While I have seen many wondrous things in my life, nothing can even come close to that experience. To this day, every time I see her, I envisage those two miracles. As she grew up and made mistakes as a child, I thought of that moment in time, and suddenly, being angry just didn’t matter to me. I’ve heard people refer to a gift that means more to them than any other. This, my friends, is my forever gift from a daughter who was one minute old.

My favorite Church in Paris, Johann Sebastian Bach, and I.

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St Germaine

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

Wow, time does fly.

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New Logo test 1How many times in life do you start something you think is significant and then forget all about it? Well, it just happened to me, and I’m shocked that so many years have passed since I wrote my first post on here.  No, we aren’t there yet. Not by a long shot.

I was thinking about how fortunate I am to have spent an entire working career in the travel industry. When I boarded that beautiful PanAm 707 Clipper in 1966, flying from San Francisco to Bangkok, I didn’t realize that ride would last until this very day. So many places, people, sunrises, sunsets, and memories around the world have unfolded before me since then.

Like every journey, it has to begin somewhere. I was born in San Francisco and growing up, I was so, so fortunate to explore every part of the City. San Francisco was, and is, my favorite city in the world – as a child, I explored the streets, endlessly rode Cable Cars, heard fog-horns from my bedroom in the evening, ate Dungeness Crab fresh off the boats at the wharf, and knew I lived in the best city anywhere.

On one very memorable day, I sat on the grass at Aquatic Park with my mom and hordes of other people watching (and hearing) a prison uprising at Alcatraz. The prison isn’t all that far offshore, and the sounds of gunfire and activity carried across the Bay to where we were sitting. It was a front-row seat to one of the wildest experiences I’d ever had. Now that doesn’t happen every day.

Today an army of people visit Ghirardelli Square, which is located right behind Aquatic Park, where we sat looking at Alcatraz. The square wasn’t a tourism magnet then, and the Ghirardelli factory pumped out chocolate products 365 days a year from that location. As soon as the Hyde Street Cable Car came around the corner, everyone could smell the chocolate fragrance – even now, I can remember it.

So with all that in mind, I’m going to add thoughts and random memories to keep this journey going. I hope someone other than me will enjoy my views half as much as I have. Thanks for joining me along the way.