Scenes From My Life

When one hears the word “tourist,” a certain image likely comes to mind. For me, it is the camera-toting out-of-towner with a well-worn guidebook and map. Eager to see every well-known attraction in a particular city, their trip is scheduled to the last detail. They are there to see their destination’s highlights . . . and only the highlights. They will return to their homes at the end of the trip with more than a few stories and, probably, some gift shop-purchased souvenirs. But, something will remain missing. The itinerary of a traveler, by contrast, is often less structured. While they, too, may consult guidebooks and maps, their trip is decidedly less predetermined. Though there may be attractions to see, travelers do not mind stepping off of the beaten path. Seeing not just the highlights, but what else there is to see. Travelers are there for the experience. Tourists often operate on such a rigid schedule that there seems to be little

It is an American classic. It is a piece of both literary and cinematic history. It is Gone With the Wind. Mention this title to any number of people and they will not only recognize it, but they may quote a few lines. Margaret Mitchell’s novel is nearly synonymous with the American south, nowhere more so than in my hometown of Atlanta. Surrounded by the legacy of Rhett and Scarlett, it was easy to forget that the story may not be as well known to the rest of the world. In the summer of 1996, while volunteering during the Olympic Games in Atlanta, I had the opportunity to meet people from all over the world. One day, I found myself speaking with an older man from Lille, France. In Atlanta as a representative for Lille’s bid for the 2004 Olympics, this man spoke to me for a short time on Lille and its Olympic plans. But, he seemed more interested in talking about Atlanta and America, in general. He appeared to be soaking up as much of America’s cul

Growing up, my extended family was spread across the southern United States. Every summer, my parents would load my brothers and me in the car to visit these far-flung relatives. We would be gone for weeks at a time, driving hundreds of miles across the American south. At times, it seemed like I had been in the car for an interminable amount of time. However, on the drive back to Atlanta, there was always one clear clue that announced that I was nearly home: the Atlanta skyline. Full of office buildings, hotels and sports facilities, the Atlanta skyline is a study in change. The skyline has grown as the city has expanded. Few of its earliest markers, symbols of the city’s future as a metropolitan center, still stand. Those that have remained are now dwarfed by newer, more modern edifices. Whether returning from a weeks-long vacation or a mere day trip, spotting the Atlanta skyline meant that I was nearly home. Over the years, skylines have he

The internet has completely changed the way people make travel plans. The number of online travel websites seems to grow constantly, often so quickly that it can be difficult to sort through them. Expedia, Travelocity, Kayak . . . there are so many that they eventually seem to blend together. As most of my travels are booked - at least partially - online, I have become familiar with a number of these sites. Among my favorites are: Trip Advisor (www.tripadvisor.com): Possibly my favorite travel-related site, it is a collection of reader-submitted reviews for hotels, restaurants, and attractions in cities around the globe. Expedia (www.expedia.com): A good resource for prices on airfare, hotels and other travel options. While travel can be purchased on this site, it is also a good means of learning the general cost of travel to a particular destination. If possible, utilize the site’s “Flexible Dates” option, which searches airfares for a general range of dates. Fodors (ww

“Quiet!” The security guard's booming voice echoed over the Virginia hillside. " Read the sign." Was he talking to us? My friend and I exchanged incredulous glances as we surveyed the crowded alcove. The guard’s attention was still fixed on us from afar. Neither of us had said a word. We had merely giggled. Yet, here we were, being singled out as troublemakers . . . in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery. In my many trips to Washington, D.C., I had never visited Arlington Cemetery, the burial space reserved for veterans, Presidents, and American heroes. I had been determined to make the time to finally visit it on this trip. On a sunny but chilly Sunday afternoon, my friend and I made our way to the Cemetery. Entering the burial ground, we wandered along a tree-covered pathway leading up an increasingly steep hill. At one point, we took a detour off of the path, to an open-air alcove that was the final resting place of

My hometown of Atlanta, Georgia, is known - in part - for its nearly unbearably humid summers. It is not known for having particularly cold winters. In fact, I can recall more than a few Christmases when the mercury was steadily holding in the 60’s. While New England and parts of the Midwest were trudging through mounds of snow, Atlantans were digging out their warm weather clothing. Last year was different, though. In 2010, for the first time in more than a century, Atlanta had a “white Christmas.” When all was said and done, the Atlanta area only had a couple of inches of snow on the ground. It was not exactly a blizzard. But, watching the snow fall that afternoon, I was reminded of one of my most vivid snow experiences. One of the few times I have actually experienced a true blizzard. It was March 1993. Snow was in the forecast. But, it was not expected to be much, perhaps an inch or two. Certainly nothing worth worrying over. My brothers and I woul