Tag: adventure

Jackie Kennedy Onassis and I flew to Paris together.

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One of my most memorable flight experiences was flying on Concorde. Everything about the aircraft, the in-flight service, the highly selective pre-boarding, and the astounding view out the tiny windows was fantastic.

Of course, Air France had its own separate boarding area and process for Concorde passengers. The moment you entered the lounge, you knew something special was in store. As soon as you walked in, someone handed you a glass of Champagne. Never mind it was 8AM. Anytime is time for Dom Pérignon. Small seating areas dotted the lounge, and nearly every seat was full. The aircraft seated only 144 passengers, so at that hour everyone was relaxing and preparing to board the flight to Paris.

You might ask how (or why) I was in this boarding group. Truth be told, it was an extraordinary stroke of luck and a reliable personal connection with an Air France district sales manager in New York City. About 20 minutes before boarding, everyone was talking, laughing, and generally thrilled to be in that select group of travelers. Suddenly,y the door opened, and within seconds,s all the chatter stopped. It was instantly quiet. I’d never seen anything unfold quite like that.

Jackie Kennedy Onassis and a traveling companion had just walked into the lounge; they were booked to travel on that very same Concorde to Paris. For a moment, everyone in the salon was stunned. Sure, celebrities and wanna’ be tycoons traveled on Concorde, but this was special. We were all 20’ away from the most recognizable woman on earth. Unfortunately, Jackie had no chance of sitting next to me for the 3 1/2-hour flight, so I passed the time with Beluga Caviar, even more Champagne, lunch (at breakfast time), and Cognac. That is indeed the breakfast of champions.

At one point during my meal, I looked out the window and could actually see the curve of the earth as we flew at an altitude of 55,000 feet with a ground speed of 1,300 miles per hour. This was undoubtedly no regular flight; it was stratospheric. I still have the wonderful pen Air France gave us in their amenity kit. I wonder if Jackie ever used hers?

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.

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.

Every journey begins with the first step.

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So my friends, how did I get to writing about travel, memories, and my experiences around the world? The answer is in the famous quote from St Augustine: “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”

I’ve always felt that life becomes even more beautiful when it’s driven by curiosity, creativity, and a touch of wonder. Whether I’m jotting down ideas in a notebook or simply watching the clouds drifting by, I truly enjoy dreaming about what’s possible and finding magic in everyday moments. Travel means the world to me—I love discovering new places, meeting interesting people, and gaining thoughts on how different cultures celebrate life in their own special ways.

I’ve been amazed, delighted, and yes, on occasion, frightened at what I’ve found. Yet I continue to peek around corners and into things that seem interesting to me anywhere and everywhere. Every single experience has been memorable. I’ve met people from every walk of life, tasted food that I loved and hated, traveled luxuriously on Concorde, Cunard, and my all-time favorite, Pan Am’s 747 services. 

While I love to roam, my heart always circles back to what matters most: the people I care about. I cherish meaningful conversations, shared laughter, and quiet moments with those I love. Life is an open book—and I’m grateful for every chapter written with good company. Truth be told, I know I never want to reach the end of the line.

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

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While awaiting our Thai permanent residence permits, we left Thailand every 90 days and returned as tourists, then waited another 90 days for a new visitor visa. Everyone knew this process well. The Thai railway was ideal, with a daily 0800 train from Bangkok to Nong Khai, arriving in the afternoon. The same train left Nong Khai hours later, allowing us to cross the Mekong River to Laos for passport stamping.

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 the hotel spoke French. Everything about the restaurant, including the menus and food, was straight from a dusty Asian version of the Champs-Élysées in Paris. The food was always great, and we washed it all down with cans of Beaujolais. Who knew?

After lunch, we took a taxi to the river, crossed into Thailand, visited the ramshackle immigration booth, and received a new entry stamp to stay 90 more days. We then reboarded the train and returned to Bangkok after 12 hours. We repeated this process several times until we got our permanent visa. We also took the Thai railway from Bangkok to Butterworth, stopping at Batu Ferringhi and the Lone Pine Hotel, and visiting the E&O Hotel in Malaysia. These trips were among many fantastic experiences. We were very lucky.

Hey, do you want to see the Bridge on the River Kwai?

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River Kwai

Our family spent the first week in Bangkok, staying at the Siam Intercontinental Hotel until we found a home. One Saturday by the pool, I read in The Bangkok Post about places near Bangkok. I asked my wife if she wanted to see the bridge on the River Kwai. She mentioned she’d seen it in San Francisco in the movie, but I explained the real bridge was in Thailand near Kanchanaburi. She agreed, and we set off in our small car with a local driver.

After about 3 hours of our rocket ride, we arrived at the town near the River Kwai. We were thrilled to get out of the car, and when we looked around, we saw a small, very well-kept war Cemetery and parts of the original bridge built by the prisoners of war. We were the only people there, and we stood in the sunshine trying to visualize how that all came about and what happened to the men who built the bridge. We saw grave markers stretching into the distance and later learned more than 7,000 prisoners were buried there.

At that moment, we realized we were looking at something very, very powerful, and it was a long way away from the movie that played when we were at home. For the first time, we all understood we were living in Thailand, halfway around the world from San Francisco, and that we weren’t tourists in another country; we were in our new home, anxious, excited, and ready for the adventures ahead.