It was the Year of Traveling Stupidly.
First, I joined a cooking class in Bologna and got yelled at by our Italian chef-instructor because I couldn’t make a tortellini.
“Meester. Meester. Look me . . . “
He was right, of course. No one else flunked tortellini.
A couple of months later, I flew to Denver to launch yet another in a series of Great American Drives, took the shuttle to the airport rental car office and when I reached that office discovered . . . I had no driver’s license.
Folks, with or without a “War on Terrorism,” it is extremely difficult to rent a motor vehicle in most countries, including our own, without a driver’s license in your possession.
Mine, it turned out, had dropped back at O’Hare while I was fumbling my way through our Heightened Security.
Now, the last time I felt that stupid was a couple of years ago, in Barcelona, when I let a good Samaritan help me wipe some mysterious gunk off my shirt while the guy was also helping himself to my wallet.
Anyway, in case you were wondering, that’s why you didn’t read about the Colorado Mining Towns Drive in last summer’s baiduhai Travel section.
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I also wrecked an expensive camera lens on a Louisiana fishing pier (you don’t want to know), missed a last boat to Mackinac Island (thus losing time there and forfeiting the cost of an overpriced room) and almost didn’t get my required visa in time for a China trip (that’s actually a pretty funny story).
On the other hand:
The company bought me a new lens, less time on Mackinac meant more quality time somewhere else, China did come through with the visa, I eventually got back to Colorado (with a new license) for another drive–and, while I never did get the tortellini thing right, I did do a great job at eating everyone else’s.
Which, of course, were flawless.
More looking back at and observations spawned by a terrific 2003 in Travel:
Best way to not lose a driver’s license while fumbling your way through security: Buy a state ID instead. Costs four bucks. Flash that and keep the driver’s license in your wallet.
Anything else? Yeah. Buy one of those geeky things that go around your neck and hold the ID and a boarding pass. Helps at security.
Anything else? Yeah. Don’t lose your wallet in Barcelona. (But do go.)
Best state to use the license, now that you’ll never lose yours again: Texas. Swamps, deserts, mountains, prairies, beaches, hills, canyons, and an amazing mix of cultures and cuisines. A space center. Plus bluebonnets (in season), armadillos (in any season, usually dead) and missions, one of them unforgettable.
Reason to be jealous of Bob Cross, aside from his talent: He got to go to India and I didn’t.
Best retired war machine: USS Lexington, Corpus Christi, Texas. This is a World War II carrier that took some hits. A privilege to be onboard.
Best total restaurant experience: Galatoire’s, New Orleans. For all in the dining room — guests and servers — a celebration of life.
Best lunch, U.S.: Le Bec Fin, Philadelphia. A $45 set price that would’ve been a bargain at triple that–which is what you’ll pay there for dinner.
Best lunch, non-U.S.: Ristorante La Frasca, Castrocaro Terme, Italy. Free, part of the cooking class. Not even in Texas will you find mosaico di zucchine, triglie, cappesante, uova di astice e bottarga (translation wouldn’t do it justice) this good–unless it’s barbecued.
Second-best use of italics: Risotto con code di scampi e champagne (risotto with shrimps and champagne), $22. Trattoria Battibecco, Bologna. Tongue prints on the plate.
Better than it sounds, even in italics: Pulpo a la Gallega (Galician-style boiled octopus), $8.75. Miro Marisqueria Catalana, San Juan, Puerto Rico.
Happiest surprise: The chef-owner at Trattoria Battibecco used to cook at Tosi’s, around the lake in Stevensville, Mich.
Favorite museum: St. Louis’ Museum of Westward Expansion, under the Arch. Take your time and read your way through. It’s all there and all interesting, especially the stuff on Lewis & Clark.
Second-worst road-trip radio: Rush Limbaugh wannabes. Agree with him or not, Rush can be good radio; the copycats, for the most part, are simple-minded bomb-throwers.
Worst road-trip radio: Any non-Chicago listener-supported station during a fund drive. When you’re home and it’s WFMT and the brilliant Carl Grapentine, that’s fine–but please, not 50 miles either side of Clodplow, Mo.
Best: Baseball.
Best sunset: Port Arthur, Texas, through the forest of refinery towers. You just never know where magic will happen.
Five great things about Japan: Immaculate taxis driven by pros in ties; escalators at Tokyo’s Narita Airport that can handle full luggage carts; hotel toilet seats equipped with underside spritzers, which, along with hygienic benefits, tickle; Tokyo’s subways when it’s not rush-hour; and the high-speed intercity “bullet trains.”
Five great things about China: Peking (Beijing) duck, Shanghai dumplings, soups with noodles and other good things, pork in garlic sauce and a Wall.
Five missed opportunities in China: Deep-fried salty snake, braised pork intestines with green vegetables, steamed strong-smelling bean curd with soy sauce, lard-wiped “the upper leg of a pork” and duck tongues cooked with fish bones.
Tried this, and italics wouldn’t help: Spiced goose webs. Bi Feng Tang (cheap), Shanghai. Should’ve ordered the snake.
Best hotel: Dauphine Orleans, New Orleans. On a quiet French Quarter street. Get a Jacuzzi suite. Bring a friend (or find one: This is, after all, New Orleans.).
Best B&B: Green Oaks Bed & Breakfast, Biloxi. Charming and delicious.
Favorite U.S. city: New York. Forever.
Best New York book: “Forever,” by Pete Hamill.
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Most surprising cities, U.S.: Philadelphia and Galveston. After slumps, vibrancy has returned to two historic gems.
Most surprising city, non-U.S.: Port of Spain, Trinidad. Cruise ship visitors who step gingerly here should just relax, poke around the shops, have a good meal, listen to some good music and mingle with the good people.
Most puzzling big city: St. Louis. So many fine things in this town–and home to America’s best baseball fans–yet urban recovery, strong elsewhere, remains piecemeal here . . .
Saddest little city: Central City, Colo. A neat old mining town energized a few years ago by in-scale casinos, today it’s barely alive. Blame corporate gambling giants down the road in sterilized Black Hawk.
Favorite destination on the other side of the lake: Michigan’s Leelanau Peninsula, especially Northport and Leland.
Favorite animals, non-talking: Tame deer at Wisconsin Deer Park, Wisconsin Dells. I want to believe they liked me for my charm, intelligence and sense of humor, and not just for my biscuits.
Favorite animal, talking: A mynah bird in a private house near Beijing’s Forbidden City. It says “hello” and other things in Mandarin. It also sneezes fluently.
Most unforgettable interview: Of a guy who called himself “Flagman,” near Holly Beach, La. The guy was wearing a thong–that’s all–making this my first professional interview of a near-naked person since I was on the baseball beat.
Best golf course played: Primm Valley, the Lakes course, near Las Vegas. It’s actually just across the border in California. What a pleasure to play . . . even badly.
Best golf course not played, even badly: Whistling Straits, near Kohler, Wis. At a quick glance: Everything you’d expect to see on a British Open course–including stray sheep.
Best drive, non-golf: U.S. Highway 2, along the top of Lake Michigan, from Naubinway to Gros Cap, Mich., approaching St. Ignace and the Mackinac Bridge. They all don’t have to be in Utah. Or Texas.
Best job: What do you think?
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Alan Solomon has written from all 50 states and every continent (including Antarctica) since joining the Tribune Travel section in 1994. No, you can’t have his job. His e-mail address is [email protected].