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Archive for July, 2011

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

In a perfect world there would be no boundaries and we would all be citizens of the world, free to roam from place to place at our heart’s desire. Until that day comes, you’re going to need a government-issued passport.

Passport 101

King Henry V of England, most noted for his great military mind is also credited with inventing what is considered the modern version of the passport. Earlier references to the passport have also been found in the Hebrew Bible. In medieval Europe a document was required in order to pass through the gates of a city wall or traverse a territory.

American in Paris?

The latest statistic regarding the percentage of Americans (less than 30%) who own passports is a little sobering and quite frankly, a bit suspect. I disagree with the popular assumption that Americans are fundamentally unadventurous, isolation-loving people without a global perspective. I assert that the low number of passports issued is misleading and actually a reflection of many mitigating factors including: 1) The geographical make-up of the United States. It is a vast, diverse land filled with amazing places (national parks, big cities, beautiful beaches, majestic mountains, etc.,) that keep Americans sightseeing within its borders; 2) The U.S. neighbors only two other nations, unlike Europe which has nearly a total of 50 border-crossings on its continent. For example, an Austrian boards a one-hour flight or sets out on an eight-hour car trip and reaches a myriad of foreign countries. A one-hour flight from San Francisco takes me as far as Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Portland, and somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; 3) If you are a member of the working middle-class it is likely you have only two-weeks vacation a year and on top of that; 4) foreign excursions can be quite expensive.

But for those who choose to hold a passport, they hold unlimited possibilities in their hands. This tiny book has power. With it you have permission to pick-up and jet-off to strange and exotic locations at a moments notice. My son has let his passport expire and I am continually nagging him to get it renewed. “You never know when you might need to fly to Paris for lunch”, I say. He rolls his eyes. He’s right, this situation doesn’t come up too often – but it never hurts to be ready just in case. As for me, I caught the “travel bug” later in life and I caught it with a vengeance. Just recently I renewed my passport and sweated those few weeks without it. It was a relief to find it in the post safe and sound. I look forward to the next 10 years of gallivanting.

My recent passport is only the third in my lifetime. Growing up in our family meant we never ventured farther than our Ford Country Squire station wagon could take us. In college, I went to Mexico quite a few times, but back in “the day” you weren’t required to carry documents to go south or north of the border. In 1982 I took my first international flight to Sydney, Australia for a friend’s wedding and joined the prestigious group “world traveller”. Since that time I’ve been to only a handful of different countries: Mexico (twice), Costa Rica, The Bahamas, England (twice), Germany (twice) and of course, Italy (dozens of times). In two months time I will be adding France to that list. My Passport Personality: Late Bloomer.

On this ever-changing, fluid planet it is nearly impossible to maintain an accurate list of countries in the world. The Travelers’ Century Club has compiled a “Master List” of countries, territories, autonomous regions, island groups, states and provinces that theoretically make up the world. Currently there are 872 places pinpointed. No one person has visited them all, but a few have come close. My friend Marisa is in her 30s and has one of the most impressive passports I’ve ever seen. (The photo at the top is from a page in her actual passbook). She considers it among her most prized possession. She’s travelled since she was a baby and in her teens and early 20s lived many years abroad (both on land and on boats). She is now gainfully employed as a maritime attorney, so her globe-trotting has stalled a bit. But deep down inside she will always have the heart of a vagabond and wanderlust in her veins. Her Passport Personality: Marco Polo.

So, what does your passport say about you?

by Toni DeBella

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February, 2009

A friend was visiting on a sunny, frigidly cold winter’s day when most people would have preferred to stay indoors and keep warm. Not us. We hopped on a bus that dropped us in Bagnoregio, then hiked up to the footbridge to the top of Civita’.

CivitaCivita’ di Bagnoregio (“the dying town”) is located 145km north of Rome in the region of Lazio, overlooking the Tiber Valley. The village seems to float above the earth in a cloud, but has the unfortunate distinction of being one of the world’s most endangered places; the town is slowly crumbling and sliding down its cliffs.

This little borgo has always had a strange allure for me (as it has, I’m sure, for millions of others who have experienced visited). The atmosphere that day was a little eerie because there didn’t appear to be any other souls in town (except  two ambling cats in the main square). It’s a favorite stop of tourists in the spring and summer, but on this February afternoon, the streets were quiet and deserted; underscoring the heartbreaking reality of the city’s inevitability. I’ve visited Civita’ three times in my life. The first was as a tourist. The second was as a dinner guest at the home of a friend (which was pretty amazing considering there are only a dozen residents remaining in this little hamlet). My last visit was by far the most memorable.

A small sign hanging in a courtyard is the only indication that there’s a thriving business inside a grotta at the end of the enchanting patio. Bruschetteria L’Antico Frantoio is too tiny to be called a cafe’, and the menu is too limited to be a restaurant – so it’s simply called a “bruschetteria”. I imagine it’s like no other bruschetteria in Italy. The Rocchi family has been operating this iconic destination of travelers for decades with its 1500 year-old olive oil mill (frantoio) in the back. The mill, which still functions (although it’s retired) has been in the family since 1520. Today, the family’s Agriturismo “Le Corone” in a valley nearby produces all of its oil.

On this day, Felice Rocchi was our host and chef. A remarkably efficient use of space, there is only a fireplace to grill the bread, a counter to assemble and serve the bruschetta and wine, and a few tables covered in tablecloths. I think we were Felice’s only customers that day and since we were in no hurry to return into the freezing wind, the three of us passed a very pleasant afternoon talking and eating the most amazing olive oil-soaked bruschetta and drinking the freshest house red wine. We chatted about Felice’s family, got a private tour of the Etruscan well in the cantina, and together devised a kooky plan to help bewildered Jtourists how and what to order. He promised us a cut of the projected profits from our little scheme, but I think when I return, I’ll ask for my share to be paid in bruschetta.


by Toni DeBella

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One of my great fortunes in life is having two close friends who work as Flight Attendants for major international airlines.  These two women both collectively and single-handedly enable me to feed my addiction to Italy (or as I sometimes like to refer to it, “my crack”).  The companion fare or “buddy pass” is a way of traveling that’s not for the faint of heart.  It requires nerves of steel, the patience of Job, the imagination of Sherlock Holmes, and the ingenuity and resourcefulness of MacGyver.  It also helps to have an innate ability to build alliances and form coalitions with the other “buddies” in line for the few choice “non-revenue” seats.  It’s sort of like “Survivor”, but in an airport. Companion fares are a fraction of the cost of a regular ticket, but as the old adage goes, “You Get What You Pay For.”

Don’t misunderstand me, I am eternally grateful to my friends for sharing their privileges with me, however, if you’re planning to travel this way, you must go in with your eyes wide open and accept its cruel game of “standby roulette”.  I’ve sat many a time at the gate testing the theory that it’s possible to telepathically compel myself onto the airplane by chanting over-and-over-again, “please call my name, please call my name, please call my name” (like some twisted mantra to will the gate agent (who’s forehead I’ve just burned a hole through) to say those 7 magic words, “passenger DeBella, please come to the podium”.

Ahh, the sweet glory of nabbing a seat in business class from New York to Rome! Warm nuts, champagne, fluffy socks, a blanket made of natural fiber and, the pièce de résistance, a seat that reclines almost flat.  Once you’ve flown business class, it’s hard to return to coach.  In the back, (an airline industry term for “where the losers sit”) I feel like an immigrant crammed into steerage on the Titanic.  Should things go awry, I’m convinced any real lifesaving procedures will be afforded to the platinum American Express cardholders first.  However, I’m not thinking about that today – today I’m one of them.  The cabin crew addresses me as Ms. DeBella: “Ms. DeBella, what would you like as your entree?” “Ms. DeBella, would you like a warm towel?” “May I get you another pillow, Ms. DeBella?” They don’t call it business class for nothing.

volcano

But there’s a dark side to “standby, non-rev” (another airline term for “cheapskates who sponge-off their friends and family”).  I’ve been stranded in Milan for 3 days (my traveling companion was a high-strung, hot-tempered, not-so-easy-going Italian – very stressful!); Rome – 3 days (I finally resorted to tears and someone took pity on me); New York – 5 days (Icelandic volcano eruption – 7 million other passengers and me marooned, so I don’t really count that one).  I’ve slept overnight on a bench in a food court at Frankfurt airport, aligned with 8 other rebuffed “buddies” (we filled an entire B&B in Fumicino, Italy) and naively accepted an offer from Domenico (a complete stranger I sat next to on a flight from Hahn to Campino) to drive me to Orvieto on his way to Viterbo.  He could have been an ax-murderer, but as it turned out, he was a really lovely guy.

The bottom line is…I will take the opportunity to travel anyway I can get it.  I love airports – they’re  happy places for me.  When I’m in one, I’m either going somewhere far away or returning from a wonderful and unique adventure.  It’s certainly challenging to fly around the world without a structure or a guarantee. Honestly, I sort of enjoy the game – it feels like a test of my character and determination.  Over the years, I’ve managed to overcome a lot of obstacles, and maybe those hardships make arriving at my destinations all the more satisfying.  So, like the title of this blog implies, I will beg, borrow and steal to get where I am going.  Buon Viaggio! by Toni DeBella

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