I’ve visited some beautiful coastal cities — Rio de Janiero, Venice, San Francisco, Cape Town — but none captivated me like Sydney.
Its famous harbor, flanked by the iconic opera house and bridge, bustles with ferries and sailboats. Locals and tourists from across Asia and the world fill its shops and restaurants. Street performers, gardens, museums and other attractions compete for attention.
The Opera House seemingly changes shape depending on your vantage point.
We just spent nine days in Sydney and filled almost every hour with something interesting. Here are some highlights:
We met this koala at the Taronga Zoo, a quick ferry ride from the Circular Quay beside the Opera House.
A walk across the Harbour Bridge offers a great view of the city.
The Art Gallery of New South Wales has diverse collections in a distinctive setting.
The Sydney Barracks tell the stories of convicts who helped build Australia.
An extensive, easy-to-learn transit system uses ferries, trams, buses and trains.
We fed kangaroos and met other residents of another zoo, the Sydney Zoo.
Manly has popular beaches and hiking trails. We traveled there by ferry.
Perhaps the most famous beach hike is the Bondi to Coogee Walk, where we saw swimmers, surfers, volleyball players, body builders and lots of people just enjoying the day.
This crowd was among the million people awaiting the start of Sydney’s famous New Year’s Eve fireworks.
We visited the Blue Mountains, where we saw the famous Three Sisters rock formation.
This concert of Beatles music rocked the Joan Sutherland Theatre at the Sydney Opera House.
Australia’s state libraries, like this one in Sydney, offer museum-quality exhibits.
The Museum of Contemporary Art is adjacent to the Circular Quay and The Rocks, the city’s oldest neighborhood.
Boats are everywhere in Sydney, including at this harbor near Watsons Bay, where we went hiking.
The Australian Museum offers an excellent introduction to the country’s natural history.
It took some adjusting (but only some) to celebrate the holiday season in a summer climate. This scene is at St. Mary’s Cathedral.
A highlight of our Sydney trip was visiting with Nepali relatives who now live there, including our nephew Manohar, with Rukshana.
This wall hanging, like the image at the top of this post, is among the Museum of Sydney’s artwork from the Coomaditchie people.
Adelaide is known for several things — beautiful churches, wineries, festivals — but what I’ll remember most about it is the life-sized sculpture of a mother breastfeeding her baby at the Art Gallery of South Australia.
As you can see, it’s not quite a human mother. What gives the life-sized piece by Patricia Piccinini even more power is its placement beside a traditional Virgin and Child by William Adolphe Bouguereau.
Here are the two works together, each offering a different vision of motherhood.
Now consider this Rodin sculpture placed beside Ricky Swallow’s meticulous carving of a skeleton from lime wood.
I found the juxtaposition strange and wonderful. Likewise for the presentation shown at the top of this post.
Champa and I are both art lovers; she is an artist herself. We try to check out local museums whenever we visit a new city. Most have galleries filled with works of specific periods or genres. Adelaide’s museum had those, too, but it also challenged us to think beyond categories, as with this surrealist mashup:
Adelaide’s museum can’t compete with the volume of places like the Louvre, but it impressed us in its own way, as did the city generally.
Next door, for instance, and also free, is the South Australian Museum, which has excellent displays of natural history and Aboriginal culture.
Next to that is the State Library, whose historic Mortlock Wing looks like a reading room at Hogwarts.
Further up the street is an excellent botanic garden, now featuring pieces by American glass artist Dale Chihuly placed in strategic locations and lit up at night.
We also enjoyed Adelaide’s giant outdoor Rundell Mall, decked out for the holidays, and a Central Market filled with luscious produce and specialty food shops.
Australia’s fifth largest city has many other attractions, which we didn’t have time to visit. However, we saw enough to give it an artistic thumbs up.
This very red piece is by Chiharu Shiota, a Japanese artist now living in Germany.
Never tell someone from Los Angeles or Barcelona that they’re “only” the second city to New York or Madrid.
Similarly, as we saw yesterday, residents of Melbourne don’t view their beautiful city as second to Sydney or anyplace else in Australia.
Nor should they. This city of 5.2 million people is a multicultural gem with vibrant culture and a strong economy. It’s currently fourth in the Global Liveability Index, behind only Vienna, Copenhagen and Zurich.
Melbourne was briefly the world’s richest city, during the 1880s. It served as Australia’s capital, hosted the 1956 Olympics and is the birthplace of movie stars and celebrities, including NBA star Kyrie Irving.
It’s also a fun place to visit. We began our brief tour with an early-morning stroll through the Royal Botanic Gardens, which are stunning. When we came across some women bicyclists having a picnic next to blooming lotus flowers, I thought to myself, “Wow, I could live here.”
Then we explored downtown on foot, joining a free walking tour, as we’ve done in other cities around the world. Our starting point, above, was the State Library Victoria, with its imposing dome room.
Another stop was the Old Melbourne Gaol, or jail, where the famous bushranger Ned Kelly was hanged for murder.
Carlton Gardens, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, features the Royal Exhibition Building, which has hosted an international exposition, Olympic competitions and other historic events. It’s near the state parliament building, below.
Other landmarks included the picturesque Flinders St. Railway Station and St. Paul’s Cathedral, below, and less formal attractions such as graffiti art and shops decked out for the holidays.
We ended our visit with a tram ride, giving us a final glimpse of this impressive city.
My Aussie friend Simon has been telling me for years that Melbourne is a great city. Now I can finally reply, “I’ll second that!”
I just hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.
The paving at Melbourne’s Federation Square features inlaid textual pieces.
Many of the things I saw after arriving in Australia two days ago didn’t surprise me: its beauty, its diversity, its prosperity, its young people drinking beer at an outdoor pub. It felt like California with the avocado toast replaced by Vegemite.
At least that’s the vibe I got at Sydney’s Darling Harbor as Champa and I took a long walk to shake off our very long journey from North Carolina.
Things got more complex when we spent much of the following afternoon at the Australian Museum, which we’d expected to just breeze through. It showed us how Australia is simultaneously, and strikingly, distinctive, from its history to its landscape.
For instance, its birds. I’m not a bird watcher but I was spellbound by the collection we saw at the museum. There were giant emus and cassowaries, and distinctive kinds of turkeys, hawks and pelicans. I saw my first albatross — not the metaphor, but the actual bird, plus kookaburras, boobies and cormorants.
Other exhibits were also revelatory, about everything from minerals to kangaroos. At the neighboring Anzac Memorial, we learned about Australia’s military history. We visited Saint Mary’s Cathedral, strolled in Tumbalong Park and ate momos and dal-bhat at one of several Nepalese restaurants near our hotel.
Not all of it was positive. In one museum exhibit, I learned about Australia’s horrific treatment of laborers from the South Sea Islands, and its complicated, sometimes disgraceful, legacy with its aboriginal population.
But Australia has also given us Hugh Jackman, Nicole Kidman, Cate Blanchett, scientists, Olympic champions, tennis stars and personalities ranging from feminist Germaine Greer to media mogul Rupert Murdoch.
On its shiny surface, especially what we’ve seen so far in Sydney, Australia resembles the United States. But we’re learning how the reality lies deeper, and we look forward to discovering more over the next few weeks. We’re departing Sydney this evening and will return after Christmas for more local sightseeing and the city’s famous New Year’s fireworks.
I know all of this is a first impression based on a small section of a single city in a country so big it fills a continent, so I’m looking forward to learning more.
I knew my favorite book of 2024 months before it recently won this year’s National Book Award. Percival Everett’s James tops my annual Top Ten list and it’s a masterpiece.
Everett retells Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn through the eyes of its enslaved runaway Jim — now James –,who travels with Huck on a perilous journey down the Mississippi River. The story is familiar but its new perspective is chilling, with a voice as powerful as Twain’s. I loved Everett’s earlier Trees, was less enthusiastic about Erasure — which was adapted for the film American Fiction, but James is in a different class. It’s my book of the year.
My other favorite was The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese. It was published in 2023 but, as I noted in last year’s Top Ten, I’m bending the rules to accommodate books I didn’t read until after year’s end. There’s no way I can exclude this sweeping epic abut three generations of a family in southern India. As in his previous work, Verghese draws on his medical background and deep knowledge of Indian history to create a saga that encompasses leprosy, genetic disorders and, above all, the human heart. It’s more than 700 pages but I could barely put it down.
Colm Tóibín’s Long Island is another historical novel whose setting is closer to home. It picks up the story of Eilis Lacey, who Saoirse Ronan portrayed in the film version of Tóibín’s earlier Brooklyn. Eilis has now settled into married life with her husband and his Italian family on Long Island. When she is confronted with a shocking discovery about him, she returns to her native Ireland for a visit and sees the man she almost married there. We feel her anguish as she ponders whether to reunite with him or return to an American husband and children who still love her.
Rachel Kushner’s Creation Lake was as smart and gripping as I’ve come to expect of her. It’s the story of a 34-year-old dropout from a Ph.D. program who’s become a spy for hire. Sadie’s shadowy employer asks her to infiltrate a French commune that may threaten their agricultural business. It’s a thriller that, as with Kushner’s previous novels, weaves in fascinating diversions on everything from Neandertal consciousness to Italian food. Kushner is also very funny. After reading The Flamethrowers, The Mars Room and now this, I can’t wait for whatever she creates next.
As I look at my list, I realize that most of my books are by authors I’ve enjoyed previously. Another is City in Ruins, the last of a terrific crime trilogy by Don Winslow. It completes the story of Danny Ryan, a former Providence waterfront worker from a tough Irish American family connected to the mob. Danny has become a successful casino operator in Las Vegas but can’t escape his past. I lived in Providence for several years, so these characters were familiar to me, but they will be compelling to readers anywhere. This is a gripping tale of honor and revenge whose heroes keep surprising us.
Liz Moore’s The God of the Woods is also a thriller, this one involving a summer camp in the Adirondacks that is less bucolic than it seems. A camper disappears and, as people search for her, secrets emerge about the rich family that runs the camp and the earlier disappearance of their own son. The novel explores the tenuous relationship between parents and children, and between wealthy people and those who serve them. I enjoyed Moore’s earlier Long Bright River, set in the far grittier streets of Philadelphia, and hope she develops the following she deserves.
The last of my “repeat authors” is Tana French, whose engrossing 2020 novel, The Searcher, introduced me to Cal Hooper, a retired Chicago police detective who moves to an Irish village for a quieter life but cannot escape the criminality around him. In her new book, The Hunter, it’s three years later and Cal is drawn again into mayhem, this time with the grifter father of a troubled teenage girl he’s taken under his wing. As the story reaches a bloody conclusion, Cal struggles to maintain his moral compass amid cultural differences and deep family secrets.
Kaveh Akbar’s Martyr! is about a young man who moves with his father from Iran to the United States after losing his mother on an airliner shot down by American forces. He struggles with depression and addiction, drifting through life until traveling on a whim to New York to see a dying artist, an encounter that reveals truths he never imagined. Told from different perspectives and filled with imaginary conversations with the likes of Lisa Simpson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, it’s a haunting tale of someone overcoming racism, alienation and grief to redefine himself.
My last novel has ties to the first. Danzy Senna is married to Percival Everett and is a gifted writer herself, as she demonstrates in Colored Television, a funny, poignant story about a biracial author with a struggling academic career. Seduced by a luxurious house-sitting gig, she begins writing for a celebrated but devious television producer, setting her on a journey that threatens her marriage, her family and her own sense of identity. It’s a novel makes you laugh, cringe and keep turning the pages.
I enjoyed several nonfiction books this year but am singling out just one for my list. Anthony Fauci’s On Call is a deeply personal, well-written memoir by the famed physician whose career stretches back much further than the COVID pandemic to include AIDS and other health crises. I was a science writer in Washington, D.C. for many years, so have been following Dr. Fauci for decades. I have enormous respect for everything he has done as a scientist and public servant and was disgusted by the abuse he endured during COVID. His book is riveting and empathetic, reminding us of the collective debt we owe him.
Another memoir, not quite on my Top Ten list, evoked a similar sense of gratitude. Liz Cheney’s Oath and Honor is filled with fascinating details about her courageous journey to uncover the truth about the January 6 insurrection and the first Trump administration.
I enjoyed other memoirs, too. In her long-awaited Burn Book, tech writer Kara Swisher brings us back to the birth of Silicon Valley and the early days of Steve Jobs, Elon Musk and others. As in her popular podcasts, Swisher can be self-indulgent but she’s often insightful and never boring. Another memoir, Hisham Matar’s The Return, describes how his Libyan family endured the murderous regime of Muammar Gaddafi
Two older memoirs also held personal interest, for different reasons. In Ten Years a Nomad, Matthew Kepnes — known as “Nomadic Matt” — describes how he spent years wandering around the globe, a journey I am about to emulate on a much smaller scale. In Waiting for the Monsoon, journalist Rob Nordland tells how his life filled with writing and travel was imperiled by a health crisis — one worse than anything I have experienced, but resonant nonetheless.
I also enjoyed McKay Coppins’ excellent biography of Mitt Romney; John Vaillant’s harrowing account of Fire Weather; and Jessica Roy’s American Girls, about a young woman from a religious family in Arkansas ending up with the Islamic State in Syria. Bianca Bosker’s Get the Picture provided a devastating tour of New York’s art scene.
On the political front, I also enjoyed The Age of Grievance, by Frank Bruni; The Age of Revolutions by Fareed Zakaria; The Truths We Hold by Kamala Harris (remember her?) and — older but still interesting — The Paradox of Tar Heel Politics by Rob Christensen.
My final non-fiction nod goes to The Catalyst, which describes how RNA science has become central to our understanding of cancer, aging and more. Author Thomas Cech, a Nobel laureate, introduces us to the people behind the discoveries and explains in non-technical language how RNA is changing our world. I worked with Tom for several years and admire both his brilliance and his ability to explain complex science.
Other new fiction favorites included Dolly Alderton’s Good Material, a British rom-com about a struggling stand-up comedian; Vanessa Chan’s The Storm We Made, about the complex choices Malaysians made during the Japanese occupation; Francis Spufford’s Cahokia Jazz, a noir thriller set in a reimagined Midwestern state; and The Vegetarian, a dark novel from Korea by Han Kong, who won this year’s Nobel Prize in Literature. I also inherited a friend’s copy of Larry McMurtry’s classic Cadillac Jack, which was worth the long wait, as was Alistair MacLeod’s lovely No Great Mischief, which I read before traveling to his native Nova Scotia.
As usual, some titles disappointed, notably four you may see on “best books” lists elsewhere: Long Island Compromise by Taffy Brodesser-Akner; This Strange Eventful History by Claire Messud; There’s Always This Year: On Basketball by Hanif Abdurraqib; and Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange. I gave up on all of them before finishing. Maybe I stopped too soon.
Looking ahead, I’m preparing to tackle a 1,336-page classic that I’ve downloaded to read during our upcoming trip to Australia and New Zealand: Robert Caro’s The Power Broker, about Robert Moses’s transformation of New York. I hope to finish it in time for my 2025 list. Until then, I invite you to share your own suggestions in the comments section and wish everyone another year of great books. Happy reading!
We visited the Statue of Liberty this past weekend and I found myself wondering whether they will soon be adding “Don’t” to the front of the famous poem by Emma Lazarus.
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore,” the poem says. “Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
“Don’t give me your tired, your poor” sounds about right these days, the way things are going. For good measure, they could add a warning about immigrants eating dogs and cats.
In the wake of the recent election, I found it disheartening to visit Lady Liberty, which greeted my grandparents more than a century ago. Champa and I went there with our son and his family during a family get-together in New York.
Our four granddaughters were especially excited to see the names of their great-great-grandparents on the Wall of Honor at Ellis Island. These were my dad’s parents, Reuben and Sarah Jarmul, who both came to New York after fleeing religious persecution in Eastern Europe. My mother’s family came from Germany a few decades later, narrowly escaping the Holocaust in Germany.
Today’s refugees will not be so lucky — and their situation is just one of many issues that make me despair about what lies ahead during the next four years.
Several months ago, I wrote about how we were considering a post-election Plan B focused on “slow travel,” which has become popular among older Americans and is substantially less expensive than many people assume. Now this has become our Plan A. We’re going to keep our home in Durham, at least for now, but will spend much of our time elsewhere around the world. We think it’s our best way to stay sane during the next four years.
We could change our minds. Maybe the next Trump presidency will be less tumultuous than we expect. Maybe we’ll experience a health setback, a family crisis or something else. Maybe we’ll get tired of the road. Serving in the Peace Corps and traveling frequently have made us comfortable with uncertainty and foreign adventure.
For now, though, we need to get away, although we’ll remain engaged and seek new opportunities to serve as volunteers. In three weeks, we’re leaving on an extended trip to Australia and New Zealand, and we have other trips planned after that.
As we head for other shores, we’ll keep Lady Liberty in our hearts. My last glimpse of her this past weekend was from the ferry returning us from Ellis Island to New York’s Battery Park. It was sunset and the sky was bathed in red. As I gazed behind us, across the harbor where my grandparents came to find safety and freedom, I watched the statue’s outstretched lamp as it slowly faded into the gathering darkness.
I hope it will shine more brightly when we come back.
Not Exactly Retired embodies a lifestyle of continued engagement and purpose, blending leisure with meaningful activities. It emphasizes pursuing passions, maintaining social connections, and embracing new adventures while enjoying flexibility and freedom.
ChatGPT wrote this when I asked it to describe what it means to be “not exactly retired.”
I’d been hearing a lot about ChatGPT, the world’s most popular artificial intelligence (AI) tool, and wanted to try it, as more than 180 million users have before me. I tested it by asking it to rewrite parts of my latest posts.
My most recent post, for example, updated classic rock songs to humorously mock aging listeners. I asked ChatGPT to do the same thing and got this among its responses:
“The Sound of Silence” Hello wrinkles, my old friends, I’ve come to cringe at you again. Because a vision softly creeping, Shows the years that I’m not keeping. And the laughter of youth, it fades away, What can I say? It’s the sound of silence.
My previous post described our trip to Nova Scotia. I asked ChatGPT to describe the trip but didn’t tell it any details about our itinerary. Here’s what it guessed:
My Nova Scotia trip was unforgettable! I explored Halifax’s vibrant waterfront, marveled at Peggy’s Cove’s iconic lighthouse, drove the breathtaking Cabot Trail, hiked in Cape Breton Highlands, and indulged in delicious seafood and local wines. Stunning landscapes and warm hospitality everywhere!
Every word of that description is accurate, not to mention clearly written, albeit without a verb in the final sentence.
One of my other recent posts described how my home town of Durham, N.C., is a great destination for retiree travelers. Here’s what ChatGPT produced in two seconds:
Durham, NC, is perfect for retirees seeking a blend of culture and relaxation. Visit the stunning Sarah P. Duke Gardens for serene walks, explore the Nasher Museum of Art for inspiring exhibits, and enjoy the vibrant atmosphere at the historic Tobacco Road. With mild weather, friendly locals, and diverse dining options, Durham offers a fulfilling getaway for every traveler.
Once again, that’s scarily accurate and close to what I wrote myself, although its reference to “the historic Tobacco Road” is slightly off. “Tobacco Road” generally means our region of the North Carolina Piedmont. Durham does have a Tobacco Road Sports Cafe, which overlooks the Durham Bulls ballpark, but ChatGPT’s phrasing is wrong.
In an effort to stump ChatGPT, I tried one last challenge. Back in May, I posted about the school we’re helping to build in a remote Himalayan village, to which readers of this blog have contributed generously. (We still need and welcome donations.) I asked ChatGPT to explain why the school is so important:
A new school in Samalbung, Nepal, is essential to address the growing educational needs of the community. Current facilities are often overcrowded and under-resourced, limiting access to quality education. A new school would provide modern classrooms, improved learning materials, and better support for teachers.
This answer felt generic, which didn’t surprise me. Little information about Samalbung exists online. ChatGPT’s answer also includes phrases such as “modern classrooms” that stretch reality. However, it’s basically on target. ChatGPT presumably analyzed why schools are important to developing areas generally and applied that conclusion to Samalbung. Its answer is accurate enough to convince a casual reader.
These examples illustrate both the incredible power of AI and its creepy potential to mimic or distort reality. I hadn’t fully grasped this prior to trying it myself. As someone whose career was based on writing, I’m glad I retired before my livelihood was threatened by artificial intelligence, although I recognize that AI can also enhance journalism and other fields.
ChatGPT currently receives more than 3 billion monthly website visits. If you haven’t tried it or another AI tool yet, I encourage you to see for yourself what they can do. Like me, you may be simultaneously awed, amused and alarmed.
Since I’ve just spent an entire post critiquing ChatGPT, it’s only fair for me to now close by turning the table and giving it a chance to review me. Here’s what it said:
David Jarmul’s popularity as a travel and retirement blogger comes from his engaging storytelling, practical tips, and relatable experiences. He effectively connects with readers seeking adventure and lifestyle advice, inspiring them to embrace new journeys and enjoy fulfilling retirements.
Wait, did I say ChatGPT has the creepy potential to distort reality? Sorry. I was only kidding. I probably didn’t even write that myself.
If Elvis were alive today, would he abandon his blue suede shoes for orthopedic slip-ons?
I’ve been thinking about this since reading a New York Times article about the enduring power of Jackson Browne’s These Days. I’ve loved that song ever since I heard it on Jackson’s 1973 album “For Everyman,” but now I’m wondering whether the lyrics need an update, such as:
These days I sit on rocking chairs and count the ads for Medicare ‘til 10, my friend.Don’t confront me with my car keys; I had not forgotten them.
Likewise for this Joni Mitchell song:
Help me, I think I’m falling on the floor again. When I get that crazy feeling, I know I’m in trouble again. I’m in trouble ’cause I’m fragile, not so agile and unsteady on my feet. And you love your new cane. But not like I love my walker.
Let me suggest several other updates for songs from our youth:
Blondie:
Grandpa and I are waiting, kids, would it kill you just to call? We know you’d prefer to text but that don’t work for us at all. Call me, call me on our line. Call me, call me anytime. Call me, call me on my cell. Just tell us that you’re doing well.
The Beatles:
I read the news today, oh boy. About an old guy with a MAGA hat. And though the news was rather sad, well, I just had to laugh. I saw the photograph. He screamed at Haitians from his car. He didn’t notice that the times have changed.
Tony Orlando and Dawn:
Oh, my darling, knock three timeson the ceiling if you need me. My hearing aids suck and the battery’s low.
Steely Dan:
Rikki, don’t lose that number. You keep writing it with a pen. Save it permanently in the cloud. Rikki, don’t lose that number. Just add the contact to your phone. And learn GPS so you can finally find your way back home
Bob Marley:
No statins, no cry.No statins, no cry. I remember when we used to eatanything we craved. Burgers, cake, six-packs of beer, donuts stuffed or glazed. Memories keep us young as now we all get old. They make our hearts rise every day with our cholesterol. Everything’s gonna be all right (repeat).
The Impressions:
People get ready, assisted living’s coming. It’s there in your futurewith full room and board.
Starland Vocal Band:
Thinkin’ of you’s workin’ up my appetite, looking forward to a little afternoon delight. The early bird dinner starts at 4 p.m.My AARP card has a discount then. Sky rockets in flight. Afternoon delight.
The Righteous Brothers:
We had a love, a love, a love you don’t find every day. So don’t, don’t, don’t put your Viagra away. You’ve lost that lovin’ feelin.’Now it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa-oh-oh.
I listen to a much wider — and far more current— mix of artists these days but will never forget these rock classics. I’ll close with this update for the Eagles:
Last thing I remember, I was running for the door, escaping the cubicle where I’d worked for many years before. “Relax,” said my best friend, “You’re retired, now believe. You can check out any time you like. Really, you can leave.”
Best of all, we had much cooler weather during our recent two-week trip to Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island and Toronto. Instead of sweltering in North Carolina, we were wearing sweatshirts in the evening,
It took us less than two hours to fly from Durham to Toronto, where we stayed overnight before flying on to Halifax, the main city in Canada’s eastern Maritime Provinces. We then followed an itinerary similar to the one shown on the map.
In Halifax, we strolled along the waterfront, admired the public gardens and toured the historic Citadel atop the city. At the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, we lingered at exhibits describing how Halifax responded to the sinking of the Titanic, welcoming survivors and burying victims. The museum also described the massive 1917 ship explosion that devastated the city, the largest human-made blast prior to Hiroshima.
We then drove west to three scenic towns: Peggy’s Cove (above), Lunenburg and Mahone Bay. Morning fog obscured our view of the famous lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, but we walked along the granite rocks around it, waves crashing beside us.
Lunenberg is a Unesco World Heritage Centre that blends a British colonial vibe with colorful houses, artist studios and local seafood. We spent the night nearby in Mahone Bay, another small harbor filled with private boats.
We then turned north to the Bay of Fundy, which separates Nova Scotia from New Brunswick. It has the world’s highest tides but we were even more impressed by its simple pleasures — lighthouses, hiking trails, a colonial site and the quaint inn where we stayed in Annapolis Royal.
Then it was on to Prince Edward Island, Canada’s smallest but most densely populated province. We drove there across the Confederation Bridge, the country’s longest, and stayed in the capital, Charlottetown. “Densely populated” is a misnomer since everything in PEI felt intimate and relaxed. We spent our favorite day there hiking atop a floating boardwalk on the Greenwich Dunes Trail (above), followed by lobster rolls in Souris and visits to a whimsical village made from bottles and another lighthouse, this one at Point Prim.
We left PEI by ferry, crossing back into Nova Scotia and heading to Cape Breton Island at its eastern end. Cape Breton’s rugged coastline is encircled by the Cabot Trail, a tourist highlight that we drove with frequent stops for views, a Buddhist monastery and two hikes, notably the Skyline Trail that overlooks the Gulf of St. Lawrence.
The next day we drove to The Fortress of Louisbourg National Historic Site, where costumed reenactors amused and informed us for several hours.
We concluded our Canadian trip with several days in Toronto, getting our fix of urban life before heading back to Durham. As usual, we began with a free walking tour to see some highlights and get oriented. Then we visited the Art Gallery of Ontario. We took a harbor boat tour. We ate dumplings in Chinatown, cannoli in Little Italy and ice cream in the Distillery District. We visited the Hockey Hall of Fame, even though neither of us is a hockey fan, and we enjoyed that, too.
It was an easy and fun two weeks. “Canada Nice” was genuine; everyone we met was friendly, and diverse, too, especially in Toronto. We used our U.S. cell phones, paid for almost everything with my credit card and only needed my U.S. driver’s license and insurance to rent a car.
In short, Canada was cool. Especially during August.
Exactly 20 years ago today, Champa and I were having dinner at a local restaurant. When she went to the restroom, I signaled to our waiter to bring out a flower bouquet and gift I’d dropped off earlier. I gave them to her when she returned and our waiter brought us a special cake and champagne.
Everyone sitting near us broke into applause when Champa gave me a kiss. “Did you just get engaged?” someone asked. “No, but it’s our 25th anniversary today,” I responded, which led to more applause.
Champa and I have never forgotten that moment. Every five years since then we’ve celebrated our five-year anniversaries with a special trip and an updated version of the gift I gave her in 2004: a framed photo of the trip we’d just taken. The first photo, below, was from Switzerland, with a smaller photo underneath it taken shortly after we got engaged in Nepal.
Five years later, for our 30th anniverary, we went to Machu Picchu, in Peru.
For our 35th, we traveled to South Africa, including the winery shown in the photo.
Five years ago, we celebrated our 40th anniversary in Hawaii. The photo we framed from that trip now saddens us since we took it on the beach in Lahaina. We were next to our Airbnb there, which burned to the ground during the horrific Maui fires last year.
Today is our 45th anniversary and we’re adding the latest photo to our collection, this one from our recent trip to Morocco.
As with all of the others, the frame actually shows two photos — a main shot and a smaller one from elsewhere during the trip. They all hang in our family room. Every time I look at the collection, I’m reminded how fortunate we’ve been to travel so widely, especially since we “not exactly retired” nine years ago. The photos also remind me how lucky Champa and I are to still be together — getting older, to be sure, but still enjoying life and each other.
We haven’t decided yet where to shoot our next photo, assuming we’re still able to travel. We have five years to decide. Today we’ll just celebrate anew that a boy from Long Island and a girl from Nepal found each other and fell in love.
NEPAL SCHOOL UPDATE
The school we’re helping to build in Nepal is progressing nicely. Thanks to the generous support of Not Exactly Retired readers and others, we’ve nearly reached our financial goal. If you haven’t already, please donate on our GoFundMe site or, to avoid their fees, contact me directly. All donors will have their names honored in the new school. On behalf of the students and teachers in Samalbung, thank you!
"Not Exactly Retired" 