Hotel Buffet Communion.

In the morning, when I dress and make my way to the hotel breakfast buffet with the other guests, I notice we are all alike. I study their faces, eyes puffy, faces creased from sleeping too hard or not enough, hair damp and tousled. We don't speak, we don't even speak the same language. We don't try to impress one another.

Some of us behave well, some of us don't, elbowing in to take the last sticky bun or taking too much cheese, surreptitiously building a sandwich for lunch.

I never quite know how to use the coffee machines so prevalent in Europe so I stand too long, hesitating before pushing the buttons, annoying the coffee-starved queue behind me.

No one in the hotel dining room realizes it, but on these mornings when I am far from home, I consider them my traveling family. We are strangers,  but our need is the same and it brings us together: We are hungry. We need caffeine. We are far from home.

Baby Steps: Another 'Third Life' Lesson

"Years ago, I threw myself headlong into into mothering. It was the most frighteningly wonderful thing I have ever done or will ever do. And the reward? Four unique adults who made their way confidently out of my nest just as this little one stepped in." Read the rest

In this week's Home Planet column for the Spokesman-Review, I wrote about watching my granddaughter learn to walk. I raised four children so watching babies crawl and learn to put one foot in front of another is nothing new. But this time, perhaps it's because as the grandmother I have the freedom to step back and observe while her parents do the hard work, I noticed that as she began to take her first steps she never once looked at her feet. She was completely focused on where she wanted to go.

There's a lesson for all of us in that, I think. It's so easy to keep our eyes on our feet and never once look up to see where we are, where we've been and where we're headed.

Now, in my third life, I’m taking baby steps again. I’ve packed everything I have learned from growing up, navigating a marriage, raising a family, building a career and living an ordinary life in an extraordinarily complicated world. I've got a lot of experience and a little wisdom and I still have the curiosity of a child.

I’m ready to step back out into the world and see a few things.

Rediscovering the Pleasures of Solo Travel

When I was younger I thought nothing of getting on a plane or train or hopping in my car and heading off to somewhere I'd never been before. And I never minded going alone. But after I married, and then started a family, those solo trips were few and far between. Oh, I got away occasionally, but for the most part, we traveled as a family.

It wasn't until my children grew up and started leaving the nest, and my time was once again my own, that I felt comfortable taking off on my solitary adventures again. And I've discovered I'm in good company.

Maybe it was the influence of Eat, Pray, Love or simply a reflection of some other social marker, but it seems  the number of women who are choosing to travel alone is increasing. And I don't mean college students or gap-year wanderers.

I keep meeting and hearing from women who, like me, have worked hard and raised a family and are now enjoying the freedom of an empty nest.

Travel is a gift we can give ourselves, and solo travel is especially rewarding. It gives me time to think and time to write. In fact, I've written about the unique guilt and rewards of being a  traveling mother.

I like to think by not being afraid to strike out and go somewhere on my own, I'm an example of independence to my daughters. In this week's Home Planet column at The Spokesman-Review, I wrote about being a woman who sometimes goes it alone and I shared a list of a few of the things I've learned along the way.

Read Tips for Women Who Travel Alone and tell me what you would add to the list.

Kaua'i: The Hawaii of My Imagination

(Photos by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)



As much as 80 percent of the Hawaiian island of Kaua'i is accessible only by air. As part of a recent tour I spent an hour aboard a helicopter flying over the the parts of the island I hadn't seen by catamaran or been able to reach by car. It was the most beautiful landscape.

We landed at the foot of the waterfall featured in the movie Jurassic Park and spent a few minutes photographing the falls, our cameras misted by the spray.

Then we got lucky. The mist and clouds cleared from the Wai’ale’ale Crater and we dipped down into the deep and mysterious place that still bears the scars of the island's violent birth.


At some point I noticed most of us had put down our cameras, preferring instead to simply gaze out the windows. This was Hawaii the way I'd imagined it. Lush, green and breathtakingly beautiful.

You can read my Home Planet column about the experience here. Watch a video of the flight here.

Romancing the Rails

(Photos by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)


I am a train lover

I love the rhythm, the intimacy, the freedom to sit and daydream, watching for wildlife and studying the patterns of the clouds, instead of worrying about missing my exit on the freeway.

I've ridden the Amtrak Empire Builder across the Northwest, and the Crescent from New Orleans to New York City.

I've crisscrossed Europe by train, people-watching and studying villages and glorious old cities through the wide windows.

My daughter and I rode the Maglev train in China, rocketing across the landscape at breathtaking speed.

But last fall I took a three day excursion from Vancouver, British Columbia to Banff, Alberta on the Rocky Mountaineer. And by the time the trip ended my love affair with trains was only deeper.

In the Gold Leaf coach we were treated like royalty. Gazing up at the jagged mountains through the domed top of the coach, I was surrounded by people of all ages who were making the trip of a lifetime. Some were celebrating anniversaries, others were marking their "must do before I die" lists. My seatmate had traveled from Australia to see her brother in Toronto and she was crossing the country by rail. I told her that one day I hope to cross her country the same way.

At one point, we pulled onto a siding and the attendants let us know a fast-moving freight train was approaching. As I stood in the vestibule taking photos of the beautiful autumn scenery, I became aware of a faint hum. It grew louder and I realized it was the empty rails beside us vibrating from the movement of the coming train. The sound grew louder and more defined and just before the freight train reached us and sped past, the tracks made the high, clear sound a bell makes after it's been rung. It was as thrilling as hearing a whale's song, and as I moved back to my seat and the train started moving again, I played the sound over in my head, relishing it.

Later, when we pulled into the station I stepped out onto the platform and took one last photo of the train, not quite ready for the trip to end.

No wonder trains have been wrapped in romance since the first iron horse thundered across the rails. If you listen close enough, trains will sing. And for train lovers like me, something inside us sings back.

Ornamental Travel

I've started putting away the decorations and moving toward the new year. It sometimes takes me as long to undecorate as it did to dress the tree. I stop and look at each ornament - many of which were gathered on my travels - and remember the adventures of the previous twelve months.
This hand-painted glass ball was one of the last I picked up before Christmas. I found it in a little shop in Heidelberg in early December.

Dark December

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

Whether we're away, navigating unfamiliar streets in an unfamiliar city, or just on our way home from the grocery store, the darkness of an early winter evening can disorient us. Especially in Dark December.

Read my essay here.

Street Santas in Strasbourg: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)



I was walking down one of the narrow streets of beautiful Strasbourg, France in December 2010. The town was decorated for the annual Christmas market and I stumbled onto these three Pere Noel impersonators making holiday music as shoppers hurried past with their purchases.

It's a pair of Pere and a spare.

Frankfurt Christmas Market: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

Strolling through the Frankfurt Christmas Market, we stopped by the M. Eiserloh stall for Susse Mandelbar (sugared almonds.) The Eiserloh family covers almonds in everything from the classic hard-candy shell to hot chili to Bailey's Irish Cream to 24-carat gold. My favorite souvenir so far? A big bag of classic almonds. The extra weight in my luggage will be worth it when I put them on the table this Christmas Day.

Trier, Germany: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

The Porta Nigra, the Roman gate at Trier, Germany, has stood for 1,800 years. To pass through it is impressive. To climb the winding staircase and look out on the beautiful city of Trier is a celebration of time and history. Imagine the lives lived in the shadow of the gate. Imagine the footsteps on the Roman road. Trier is now a favorite place is this beautiful country.

Frohes Fest at Koblenz: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

Sitting at the German Corner, the point where the Mosel and Rhine rivers meet, the ciy of Koblenz hold court. Like most German towns, Koblenz is now holding a Christmas Market each year during Advent.

The Alamo: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)

During the day, the Alamo stands in the center of San Antonio, Texas. At night, it feels as though the old mission stands in the center of the universe. It is illuminated and glows and gazing at the weathered stone building it is impossible not to be drawn in to the history and drama of the place.

I was there for the 175th anniversary of the battle and snapped this photo just before dawn, as the ceremony was about to begin. You can read my essay about that experience in my Spokesman-Review column History asks one thing: Remember.

Lake McDonald, Glacier National Park: Today's Travel Photo #TTP@CAMera

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)


Standing on the shore of Glacier National Park's Lake McDonald in the middle of winter quiets you. You whisper if you speak at all. The air is cold and clear and the sky, mountains and lake blend into one beautiful scene.

You can read more in my Spokesman-Review column, Winter in Glacier National Park.

Early morning in Basel, Switzerland: Today's Travel Photo

(Photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap. Rights reserved)


Blue-white morning sky, December 2010. This was taken early in the morning as our Rhine River Cruise ended in Basel, Switzerland.

Chocolate souvenirs

In a box in the basement, there are four baskets. Easter baskets. Each of my children has had their own basket since their first Easter. Always filled on Easter Morning with the usual fare: chocolate bunnies, Peeps, stuffed animals, trinkets and treasures.

The children are grown now. Well, almost. The only one left at home is the "baby" and she is 15.
I don't stay up late stuffing plastic eggs to be hunted the next day. I don't buy stuffed animals. No one wakes up at dawn ready to go outside to hunt for the basket left by the Easter Bunny. No one relishes the idea of chocolate before breakfast because for all I know they eat chocolate for breakfast - or cold pizza and leftover beer - every day. They are on their own, after all.

Last year I filled a big basket with all kinds of chocolate and candies and then let my children pick what they wanted to take away with them when they returned to their own homes or went back to school. I decided to do it again this year.

I woke up this morning to find my son asleep on the sofa. He'd slipped in in the wee hours without saying a word. While he slept around the corner of the doorway, I pressed a pot of coffee and filled the basket with chocolate eggs, gummies, licorice, toffee and milk chocolate bars from Iceland. It was all hand-carried on the plane and tenderly transported home.

To me, there is great significance in the basket on the table today. It marks the changes in the way we live. They make their way home to me and I welcome them with souvenirs of places I wandered off to while they were gone.

Sea Baron lobster soup. Perfect.

Tonight, after a tip from another tourist who'd read about it in the New York Times, I made my way down to the Sea Baron. The little shack on the harbor is the place for authentic Iceland lobster soup.

The place is tiny, with seating for no more than 20, if everyone gets very friendly. The choices are slim. Lobster soup or whale and fish kebabs.

I ordered the soup, pulled one of the small barrels with cushioned tops that serve as stools, and sat down at one of the three long single-plank tables.

In a minute my food was delivered. One bowl of soup. One basket of bread and butter. One ubiquitous Egil's Gull beer.

It will go down on my list as one of my favorite meals. Nothing fancy. Just delicious food served simply.