Aegean Sea. October, 2011

Sailing from Byzantium this time. South through the Sea of Marmara, the Hellespont, the Aegean Sea. And here, from our stateroom’s porthole, the view upon leaving Bodrum, Turkey -- the ancient city of Halicarnassus. It was so easy and deeply relaxing to sleep onboard ship. Such silence save for the gentle murmurs of the sea. The comfort of knowing that when you woke up you’d be in yet another fabled port. No luggage to carry, no hotel room to locate. I think back about the years I avoided going on a cruise, harboring fears about the other people, the protocol, etc. Now? I can hardly wait to go on the next one.

Tangier. November, 2010

Oh, no. Just before we landed in Tangier, my camera started misbehaving. Shades of purple would appear. The image would blur and run. But mercifully, not on every picture. So I would never know if I’d get the shot or, as in this case, not. Fortunately I managed to take plenty of photos in both Tangier and in our next and last stop, Lisbon. And when I got home, Canon customer service was extraordinarily helpful. They listened to my description of the trouble, acknowledged their responsibility for the problem, reassured me that it would be fixed...and then not only paid for postage both ways for the free repair, but had my camera back to me within a week! So, as evocative as this lavender blur of Tangier’s medina may be, I’m happy to be back on track for more conventional photos with my trusty Canon PowerShot A95, a simple and reliable travel companion.

Edirne, Turkey. June, 2007

What a lovely break from the crowds of Istanbul was this day trip west to Edirne. On the Turkish border with Greece and Bulgaria, it was originally founded by Hadrian as Adrianople, then later became the Ottoman capital before the sultanate moved to Constantinople. Consequently it’s dotted with wonderful examples of remarkable architecture and decor. Like this domed ceiling in the Eski Cami, the “old mosque.” “Old” in this case means 1413. And this was only my first stop in this quiet eastern Thracian city. Before the day was over, I’d hit two more wonderful mosques (one out in country fields, one a major historical site), a Turkish bath, two markets and a father-and-son sandwich shop where I had a chicken shish on pita for less than a dollar. Then, on the two-and-one-half-hour bus ride back to Istanbul, the movie being shown featured my old pal, actress Deborah Rush. (I’d seen a book by her curator brother Michael, a good friend from high school, in an Istanbul book shop the previous night.) Small, wonderful world.

WGBH Studios, Boston. August, 1988

Each summer, when Vincent Price would come to Boston to tape his introductions to Mystery!, we’d have a small party after we’d finished. His wife, the actress Coral Browne, would arrive for the event, and we’d all have a generally good time. On Vincent’s last day of taping before he retired as program host in 1988, the party was a tad more extravagant, posters of him hanging around the studio, monitors showing scenes from his classic films, some of the crew members’ families in attendance. The stage manager’s French wife arrived with their young daughter who became fascinated with the scenes from The Tingler. When the spiny demon emerged to choke one of its victims, the little girl became upset and concerned and asked her mother for consolation. “Oui, ma cherie,” her mother comforted, “C’est langouste.” (Of course a little New England girl would recognize a lobster.)

Watertown, MA. December, 2010

When I find a recipe I like, I stay with it. And when it comes to baking, I always use my friend Nick’s recipes. He tests them so thoroughly and has such a sympathetic appreciation of the “home baker,” that his recipes always work. For example, his Torta di Nocciole alla Veronese, pictured here. When Nick and I were traveling through Italy in 1988, gathering recipes for his Great Italian Desserts book, visiting bakeries and restaurant kitchens, tasting every baked good that wasn’t nailed down, he found this recipe in the hazelnut-growing northern Italian region near Verona. It’s so easy and so good and comes out beautifully every time. Ground nuts. Breadcrumbs. Eggs, separated and each part beaten with sugar. Marsala (I use vanilla instead.) Melted butter folded in. Basta. Bake for 30 minutes at 350, cool, dust with confectioner’s sugar. One hour from start to finish. Perfect. This time around, I made it with almonds...with Nick’s blessing. So good. Check the recipe section of Nick’s website to learn how to do it the right way. I suspect this will be a winner you’ll stay with, too.

Venice. September, 1984

The fabled La Fenice theater in Venice. Aptly named, “The Phoenix” has burned and been rebuilt many times since it opened its doors in the late 18th century, since it hosted the premieres of Verdi’s Rigoletto (1851) and La Traviata (1853). Here it is the night I went to hear a concert (before the theater burned again in 1996, arson this time), not caring overly much what the music or who the composer (Ciakovski) was, just wanting to enter the stunning jewel box of a hall. I’d bought my ticket earlier in the day, then returned that evening, took my seat (next to a chatty woman who’d come in by train from her home in Verona). The lights went down, the music began. I recognized it. Tchaikovsky! Just as I had been fooled earlier when I discovered that all my favorite Titian paintings seemed to be attributed to someone named Tiziano, I was once again humbled by Italian spelling.

Córdoba, Spain. February, 1995

When we arrived in Córdoba on the rápido train from Madrid, we hoisted our bags and headed for the centro. Still looking like the Arab city it once was, the city offered small streets and alleys bordered by chock-a-block stuccoed houses, whitewash all over their thick walls (to keep out the heat), all containing an interior central courtyard. Here’s the view from our pensión, where the senora warned us not to eat the oranges when we’d admired them. “Muy fuerte,” she said. Could they have been the bitter oranges used to make marmalade? Or was she just trying to keep us from sampling?