Travel Stories

Not Any Port in a Storm

After visiting Morocco for a week, I was in Tangier, planning to take the ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain. I was staying at a nice hotel next to the coast in Tangier and from the hotel I could see the Port of Tangier about a kilometer away.  The next morning I was ready to go after breakfast and even though the ferry wasn’t scheduled for another three hours, I thought I might as well get there early.

The hotel had ordered a cab for me. I got in and told the young driver to take me to the port. As we headed in the direction of the port, I was surprised that the cab got onto an expressway — for such a short distance. I was sure we were past the port, so I asked him if he was going to the port. Surprised, he said, “I thought you said ‘the airport.’”

“No,” I replied, “The port, for the ferry.” He looked puzzled and asked to see my ticket. “Oh,” he said, “that port near the city is the Port of Tangier which is for shipping. You need to go to Tangier Med Port for the ferry. It is 50 kilometers from here!”

Unbelievable! They have two ports called roughly Tangier Port.

The cab driver said, “I can get you there.” And I said, “Let’s go!”

He quickly turned around and raced along the expressway back toward Tangier. When he turned off the expressway he was heading generally south, away from the coast. I thought that was a little strange, so I opened up the map app on my phone to follow our progress, to see where he was heading. There were few roads away from the coast and we were now probably 10-15 kilometers south of the coast.

I was about to ask the driver why we were driving away from the coast when the road along the coast was so much shorter. I then realized he was taking the faster route. The coast route was through a number of small towns so it would have been slower and would have had numerous stops. On this road he was going around 100km per hour, making very good time.

We arrived at the port about 10 minutes before the ferry was scheduled to sail. I thanked the driver, and gave him a generous tip. I raced to the ferry terminal and checked in.

I was then informed that the ferry would be 45 minutes late!

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Arabia

Traveling to Jordan in 2008, after visiting Petra, I travelled south to Wadi Rum where I spend a couple of nights at a Bedouin camp.

After sunset, I was sitting on a blanket by a fire with my hosts. Then a car pulled up and a “man in black” stepped out. He was dressed in traditional Arab garb from head to toe, but it was completely black. He was tall, about 50 years old, with a full beard. He looked like someone out of the movie, Lawrence of Arabia.

After settling in a while, another car pulled up and a man got out and handed the “man in black” a bottle. We lounged around a campfire and did a little talking — he spoke only a little English, but we managed to chat a bit. He then brought out the bottle which turned out to be Arak, an anise flavored liquor made in Jordan. He poured a little in shot glasses and handed me one. He showed me the proper way to drink it by adding a splash of water which turns the drink a pale milky colour and dilutes it a bit.

A little later in the night another car pulled up, and I remember him hiding the bottle of Arak under a blanket. I asked if there was a problem. He said there wasn’t, but I guess he was just being cautious. Jordan is a majority Muslim country, but on my first day in Jordan, when I left the hotel to go for a walk, the first business I saw was a liquor store!

We continued talking and drinking for a couple of more hours — a great time.

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Kenyan Beauty

While on my African safari in 2024 I was staying at the Sarova Panafric Hotel in Nairobi, a wonderful five star hotel. On the day we were to head out on safari, my travel partner Lauren and I and our guide Pesh were standing outside the main entrance to the hotel loading up our vehicle.  Pesh was at the passenger door while Lauren and I were at the back of the vehicle loading our luggage.

All of sudden this tall black woman walked out of the hotel. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Tall and slim with slicked back hair, red lipstick, and wearing a red dress. She was almost certainly a model. She stood there a moment, obviously looking for her ride. Everyone was staring at her— but you could tell this was a woman who is used to being stared at. She was about eight feet directly in front of us, but looked past us as if we weren’t even there. After she walked past us, Pesh came around the corner of the vehicle, and, wide-eyed, said, “Did you see that woman!” I said, “Oh, yes. Everybody did.”

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The bill, please

In 2026, I was having lunch at a seaside restaurant in Vietri sul Mare on the Amalfi coast in Italy. I had a finished a nice salad and a glass of wine.

I had tried to learn in various languages how to ask for the bill, like l’addition in French or la cuenta in Spanish, but I didn’t know the word in Italian.

When the waitress put the bill down on the table, I pointed to it and asked her, “What do you call this?” “The wine,” she said, thinking I was talking about where my finger was pointing. So, I picked up the piece of paper, waving it, and said, “No, I mean what do you call this?” She said, “The bill.”

I laughed because I realized she must have thought it strange that I didn’t know what it was called. “No, I mean what is it called in Italian.” “Oh,” she said, “il conto.” So, now I know.

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Table for One

When I first travelled to Europe in the 1980s, I based my travels on places that I wanted to see like London, Paris and Switzerland, but I also used a guidebook that I found at a local travel agent. It was Europe Through the Back Door by Rick Steves. At the time he was quite unknown, but over the years he has become famous as the premier guide to all things on European travel with dozens of videos and books.

While I was staying in Zurich, I stopped at a restaurant that Rick recommended. He particularly praised their Fondue Bourguignonne. I had never had it and was very interested in trying it. He noted that this was not on the menu and was typically made for groups rather than one person, but that they would make it if asked.

Once seated in the restaurant, I asked the waiter for the Fondue Bourguignonne. After a short pause, he said, “Okay.” A short while later, out came the trolley with the pot of hot oil, a select of cubed meats and a few dipping sauces. Once it was all assembled on the table it looked great. I started in and while I was eating I was also making notes in a small notepad. I used this throughout my trip to record information or comments on my travels.

After a couple of minutes, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone. The waiter was peeking at me around the corner of a wall. When I turned my head to look at him, he ducked back behind the wall. He did this again a few minutes later. It was only much later that I realized why he was looking at me: I was obviously a foreigner, ordering something not on the menu, and taking notes while I’m eating. He probably thought I was a travel writer. I was treated very well.

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The Great Earthquake of ‘26

I remember clearly where I was when the earthquake hit Panama on October 9, 2026.

I had been in Panama a few days in the northern town of Boquete. I had taken the bus to David to catch a flight back to Panama City. I grabbed a taxi at the David bus terminal to go to the airport. About half way there, the traffic suddenly stopped and the taxi started jostling from side to side.

Having never been in an earthquake before, I thought that the taxi driver was making this happen somehow or that the vehicle was defective and was shaking uncontrollably. I noticed that all the vehicles on the road had stopped. I thought it was strange that a black pickup truck immediately in front of us had stopped, straddling the dividing line in the road and had his four-way flashers on. The taxi driver said something — he might have said “earthquake” in Spanish, but I didn’t know that word at the time. After about 30 seconds, it the shaking stopped, and we continued on to the airport.

I discovered later that this was a 7.7 level earthquake and caused considerable damage about 100 miles south of where I was.

When we got to the airport, it was closed as they inspected the building for damage. Everyone had to wait outside for about fours hours while work crews examined the building inside. There must have been some damage to the main terminal building; a few minutes after we got inside, it started to rain heavily and very soon water was pouring from the ceiling in three or four locations.

My flight was delayed; it was scheduled for 5:30pm but didn’t leave until 8:30 — but I was surprised it went at all. The other flight scheduled for that evening was cancelled.

I got to my hotel in Panama City quite late. I slept fine though I was told the next day that there were aftershocks about 11:00pm that night, but I slept right through them. Just as well.

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Aqaba

A couple of days later in Aqaba, I was sitting at an outdoor restaurant having dinner when an Arab man walked by and asked it he could join me. He said he was a business man, and he spoke excellent English. He was fairly well travelled and mentioned he had been to Chicago a few times on business.

After chatting about things in general for awhile, he looked around, kind of cautiously, then, in a low voice, said, “I’m a Christian”. I asked if that was an issue here in Jordan. He then spoke up and said, “Oh no”. But it seems you don’t broadcast it. I thought perhaps it was because of the city we were in, because my first stop on arriving in Jordan was the town of Madaba which was noted as being a Christian town. I remember taking a picture there of two mothers walking with a child. The one mother was dressed in traditional Muslim garb, the other mother was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.

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Restaurant Reviews

Pairings, in York, England is the best wine bar I’ve been to. They have 70 wines by the glass. And, as the name implies, you can enjoy a bite to eat with the wine.
I had had a horrible meal at a restaurant in Edinburgh where they served me a red wine taken off the shelf during a hot summer. Of course, the wine was insipid. So at Pairings, I asked the waiter at what temperature they serve red wines. He replied that it depends on the type of red, and described which ones were served at 15°, at 16°, etc. Ah, I knew I’d found my place. Unfortunately, they closed permanently in 2026.

Probably the most spectacular meal I’ve had was at Fogón Asado in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I went there for their nine course menu! I also chose the better 5 wine selection to accompany the meal, rather than the 4 wine. That is the only option to be made in the meal; the food menu is set. Argentina is known for its meat and this meal displayed that well. Asado means grill, and they are all over Argentina and Uruguay. The cooking is done over hardwood and the coals that are produced. The grill area was about 6 feet by 15 feet, and the various grills could be raised or lowered to adjust for the desired temperature. The seating is for about 40 people that are seated side by side in a giant rectangle around the grilling area. The meal lasts about 3 hours, because they prepare each item one at a time. A great way to spend an evening. The restaurant has one Michelin star. The published address is Uriarte Street, but the entrance is at 3780 Gorriti Street.

In Mendoza, Argentina I would recommend Auténtico (Av. Sarmiento 777). I went with the four-course chef’s selection. An excellent meal. It started with a very tasty cocktail like a Negroni but with a hint of orange. The two appetizers

One of the best meals I’ve had was at Dimitri’s, a small restaurant Valletta, Malta.