I know, I know. You assumed that the next time you heard from the Red Clogger, she would regale you with interesting tidbits about the month and a half she spent in Europe recently: 6 weeks, 7 countries, a veritable tapestry of sublime experiences and succulent tastes. You’re absolutely right to assume such a thing. And we will get to that. But I’m just back from Texas and it’s high time to settle a score from 32 years ago. Let me come clean right off the bat. I’ve never much liked Texas. My first foray was on a family (mom, dad, me) cross-country trip in the back seat of a rental car. I was 13 — an age that really doesn’t go smoothly for anyone involved. What were my impressions of Texas? Well, we very nearly ran out of gas as we traversed the panhandle around Amarillo. We racked…

“Isn’t this EXXX-CITING?” exclaims the sophisticated British woman standing behind me in the queue. We are about to embark onto Her Majesty Queen Mary 2 to traverse 3632 nautical miles from the port of Southampton, England to her berth in Brooklyn, NY. I couldn’t agree more. I am experiencing my own anticipatory jolt as I ascend the multi-level gangway to be welcomed onboard by a committee of nautically-clad officers from the ship’s “Company”. As I officially step foot on level 3 of the ship (please, not a boat – she is a ship!) and start to consider the indulgences awaiting me, I find myself in the Godiva Café. Oh! An entire café devoted to chocolate. And espresso drinks with chocolate. And espresso drinks with alcohol and chocolate. This bodes very well indeed. In truth, I am not an OTO (one time only). I was fortunate to have been invited by…

Let’s say you want to plan a trip. (this is a constant state of being for me.) You decide on your criteria. You want to go somewhere with waterfalls and boat rides, caves, a wild animal refuge, shopping into the wee hours of the night, homemade whisky, skilled artisans, excellent coffee and croissants, opportunities to meditate in spiritual surroundings, great prices, and friendly locals. Where might you go? How many of you said Laos? Exactly. Despite a relatively short visit to Luang Prabang, the ceremonial capital of Laos, I was able to experience all the above. Here’s how it went: I lost track of how many hours (days!) it took to fly from LA to Taipei to Bangkok to Luang Prabang. But eventually, our travelling group of 3 friends arrived, bleary-eyed, at the tranquil and gorgeous Villa Maly, our home away from home for the next several days. The villa…

Happy Valentine’s Day! Yes, I know. It’s been awhile since the red clogs have clacked their way into a new post. You may have been wondering -what’s the Red Clog Blogger UP TO? Does she have Blogstipation? Being at a loss for words isn’t exactly my issue. In more than fifty years, there were precisely 2 times when I was on mute. The first was a random day at age 3 or 4 when I wore a fetching yellow dress and simply decided not to talk. At all. For an entire day. My parents were worried to pieces about this 180 degree shift in my behavior. One moment they had a loquacious little girl and the next, there were no sounds. I can’t explain what came over me then, but by the following day, I was back to my rapid-fire, incessant speech. Fast forward a couple decades to December 1981.…

You’d miss it at first glance. But if you were to look very closely at my sneakers, you’d see it there – the stubborn streak of rich brown mud which I acquired on a rainy Saturday afternoon in Transylvania. We had spent the morning in the spa town of Sovata, which is also known for its narrow gauge steamtrain, and had now stumbled on the annual cabbage festival in the nearby town of Praid. The unexpectedness, the “real”-ness, the spirit, and the artistic and culinary devotion of this village celebration was one of the highlights of ten recent days in Romania. When I first told friends and family that I was headed to (and excited about) Romania, the ubiquitous reaction was…”ummm. Why?” Even the front desk staff at my Bucharest hotel was perplexed; “we never met anyone before who really wanted to come here,”  they claimed.  But Romania had been…

Today, we are going on a train ride together. Not just any train ride. I believe it’s the most magical ride you can take — without a flying carpet. In my prior post celebrating the Swiss Bundestag holiday, I introduced you to my Happy Place, the Engadine Valley in the spacious southeast canton of Graubunden.  I’m fortunate to have been visiting this special and still fairly undiscovered part of the Alps since I was a child. Arrivals are usually by train through two main approaches — southeast from Zurich, crossing the Albula pass or northeast from Italy, changing at the border town of Tirano and mounting the breathtaking Bernina pass. On this day, I’m traveling from Zurich and would like to invite you to join me on our train journey of a mere 90 miles, but an incline of over 4500 feet – to the alpine village of Pontresina. Thanks…