To Kiss or Not to Kiss: Blarney Castle

Blarney Castle, IrelandYou’ve heard the schtick. Visit Blarney! Kiss the Blarney Stone! Gain the gift of eloquence! But should you do it? To kiss, or not to kiss, that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous condemnation by friends and family who bagger you with the question: “So, did you kiss the Blarney stone or not?”  Or to take up arms against a sea of tourists who pay big bucks to participate in nothing but a huge tourist hype…and by opposing, end them.*

*With apologies to Shakespeare’s Hamlet for disheveling his famous soliloquy.

The ultimate choice is, of course, up to you. Finding myself wandering around the Blarney Castle one rainy July day, I felt almost obligated to kiss the Blarney stone. Not from some Lonely Planet “must-do tourist check-the-box” list, but from the fear of hearing it from the Irish portion of my family bloodline. Okay, I admit it. This was kind of a bucket list thing for me and I really wanted to do it. So I did, thank you very much.

Blarney Castle, Ireland

Climbing the ever-narrowing tower steps to the top of the castle was at least dry, even if it did rekindle my mild claustrophobia. Half the castle was blocked by a green-mesh coated scaffolding for the most recent (continuing) renovation. Once at the top I joined a line of like-minded tourists (um, explorers) waiting for their chance to be manhandled into a narrow crevice. I must have missed the memo on this part but to kiss the Blarney stone – technically just the inside of the outer wall of the castle – you have to lie on your back, dangle your upper body into a small cutout hole in the roof, and while hoping the grip of the attendant on your body doesn’t slip due to the rain, lean back and kiss the stone upside down and backwards. Seriously, it’s like yoga at 90 feet. To ensure you get the most of the experience, a few widely spread iron bars are the only thing between your sightline and the ground far below. Please don’t lose your grip on me, Mr. Attendant. Jus’ sayin’.

After safely climbing down the stairs in the opposite tower, I walked around the grounds a little. If you get a good day (it rained the entire week I was in Ireland), take the time to walk through the gardens and check out Rock Close, a small natural enclave on the castle property.

Blarney Castle, Ireland

Usually I pass on the obligate “official photo,” but this time I was with family and thought it might be a good keepsake despite the rather unflattering photo. Only later did I hear stories of locals peeing on the stone at night and laughing heartily at the rock-kissing tourists at the local pub. Worse, that the stone and the accompanying hole was once a medieval toilet.

Sorry, I have a sudden urge to gargle a bottle of Listerine. But hey, if you want to kiss the Blarney stone, by all means do it. I did. Now, where did I put that bottle?

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World and two specialty e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

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Seeing the Real Cuba – Camagüey

American travel to Cuba has been restricted since the early 1960s, although some Americans have visited the capital city Havana on cruise ship stops. But Havana is no more the real Cuba than Paris is the real France. To really understand the nation you must get out to the country, which includes Camagüey, roughly 350 miles east of Havana.

Camagüey is actually the third largest city in Cuba with its 325,000 inhabitants. Unlike the more cosmopolitan Havana, Camagüey retains its deep Spanish influence. The city also retains the charm – and tendency to get lost – in its winding, narrow streets. As we discovered during our three days there, Camagüey’s old town area is a maze of blind alleys and small squares with small streets leading off in many directions. We visited several of the squares, starting with the one right outside our quaint hotel, as well as to the outlying countryside to visit farms.

Camaguey, Cuba

Local mythology claims that the confusion caused by this maze was intentional as a means of getting invaders hopelessly lost in the city, but in reality it probably is just a lack of central planning.

In Camagüey and environs we visited with many local artists including Pepe Gutierrez (beautiful work in leather), the Casanova family (potters), Ileana Sanchez and Joel Jover (eclectic painters), and Martha Jimenez (sculpture and painting). Each gave us an exhibition of their work, then answered our sometimes insightful, sometimes clueless questions. Usually this was through translation by our local guide since most Cubans outside Havana are as monolingual as most Americans.

We also got a sense of the realities of food distribution in this centrally controlled communist economic system. A visit to an outlying dairy farm gave us a first hand look at cow milking and horse shoeing, but also the knowledge that all the milk produced is sold to the government (except for some held for personal family use). Farmers aren’t allowed to sell directly to the public. Instead the raw milk is sent to the government, which has it pasteurized in a government-approved plant and then redistributed back to the people. The same process is used for other commodities such as rice, chicken, wheat, eggs, etc.

Which gets us to the ration stores. In Camagüey and the other small towns we stopped in it was common to see groups of people milling around outside. Some of this was to capture any breeze as air conditioning is essentially non-existent outside the tourist hotels (indeed, many places don’t have running water or electricity much of the day). But crowds also gathered at ration stores that were expecting a shipment of chickens or eggs or bread, surging in with their ration books to get their allocated portion before the supply ran out. When we were there the country had been suffering under a grain shortage, which meant a lack of not only bread but feed for chickens, and subsequently also a shortage of eggs. Even when you could get these commodities, the amount allocated to each family was extremely limited (e.g., a few eggs for a family for the week).

While the central collection and distribution system is inherently inefficient and prone to corruption, much of the chronic shortages are due to two factors: 1) Cuba is an island and can’t produce enough food to meet its needs (about two-thirds of the rice eaten is imported, a stunning fact for a nation in which rice and beans is the base dish at every meal), and 2) the ongoing (and now expanded) U.S. embargo, which blocks any U.S. direct trade with Cuba as well as effectively blocking trade from other countries by penalizing those foreign businesses that try to do business with Cuba.

If all you see of Cuba is Havana you’ll walk away with a false perception of the island. One obvious example is reflected in the hundreds of “classic cars” used as taxis to shuttle tourists around the capital city. In reality, there is only 1 car for every 167,000 Cubans. What cars they have are cobbled together and unreliable, as is the availability of gasoline (or homemade oil) needed to keep them running. Travel by ox or horse cart, or by bicycle or pedicab (one of our regular forms of transportation in Camagüey and elsewhere), is more the norm, as is walking. A lot of walking. Oh, and the big ritzy western-style Hotel Nacional in Havana is a huge contrast to the tiny, more humble, adobe abodes in which most Cubans – including those with professional jobs like psychologists and hotel managers – live (pay rates are also strictly controlled by the government).

I traveled on one of the “people-to-people” tours with Road Scholar that take advantage of an exemption in the embargo. With the recent administration edict further restricting travel, I’m not sure whether these programs can still run. If they can, I highly recommend going to Cuba and getting out to the towns and countryside far away from Havana where you can learn a little more about the real Cuba.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World and two specialty e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

 

Visiting Hemingway in Cuba

David with Hemingway in CubaFor twenty years of his life, Ernest Hemingway lived on the outskirts of Havana, Cuba. I spent some time recently visiting with the man who wrote The Old Man and the Sea. In fact, I visited the place where the real old man used to put to sea.

This isn’t my first visit to Hemingway’s home. A few years ago I was in Key West, Florida, where he lived prior to moving to Cuba. It turns out Hemingway was a “crazy cat lady,” favoring six-toed cats that wandered freely throughout his compound. No sign of any cats roaming today’s Hemingway farm in Havana, although he remained a cat lover and there was no shortage of stray cats and dogs on the island.

Before arriving at Finca Vigia, which means “Lookout Farm,” I stopped in Cojimar, a small town east of Havana. It was here that Gregorio Fuentes, the real life inspiration for Hemingway’s fictional character Santiago in The Old Man and the Sea, set out for his daily fishing trips. Next to a ancient castle-like structure sits a plaza and memorial bust to Hemingway, loved by Cubans as much as Americans.

Finca Vigia is aptly named. It sits on hill overlooking Havana. The airy one story home is filled with books as Hemingway never threw anything away and loved to read. Even the bathroom has bookshelves (it also has his daily weight scrawled on the wall adjacent to a professional doctor’s scale). He would entertain friends on his six acres of land, which includes forest paths and a swimming pool tucked into the woods. Today, next to the pool, sits Hemingway’s 38-foot fishing boat, Pilar (Pilar was Hemingway’s nickname for his second wife, Pauline).

Hemingway studio in Cuba

Hemingway’s actual writing studio was at the top of a small tower next to the house’s back veranda. With views on all sides of Havana and the coastline, the room seems perfect for writing. Oddly, however, it seems Hemingway preferred writing in his bedroom. The beautiful tower studio was relegated to the cats.

I learned two interesting aspects of Hemingway’s personality in Cuba. While I already knew he was a big game hunter – every wall in the house has some stuffed animal head gazing down at visitors – Hemingway liked hunting animals that fought back. Big, angry animals that weren’t going to stand still waiting to get shot, and who, if you were to misfire, might kill you just as quickly as you intended to kill him. Perhaps today’s “hunters” using high powered rifles shooting placid animals held in “shooting parks” should take a note from the Pulitzer and Nobel Prize winning writer. I also learned that, besides being a “crazy cat lady,” Hemingway was a bit obsessive-compulsive. All of his hundreds (thousands) of books are ordered on the shelves by size. Not topic, order of acquisition, author. Nope. By size.

As a writer I can say it was inspirational to visit Hemingway’s homes, now two of them. Whether you like his writing or his lifestyle, every writer has to appreciate that he lived his life fully and is considered an icon in the writing world.

Now, back to writing.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World and two specialty e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

An American in Cuba

Marianna, dancer, Havana, CubaMarianna spoke no English, and my ten words of Spanish were insufficient for a conversation. Through a translator we conversed about the modern dance she and her troupe had just performed. Marianna was one of many “people-to-people” interactions we had during my recent 10-day Road Scholar visit to Cuba.

Americans are restricted from trade with Cuba, but we are allowed to participate in educational trips where we can learn about the culture and arts of the nation. This trip took us first to Camaguey, the third largest city in Cuba and about 350 miles east of Havana. Growth without planning has left the city a disorienting mesh of winding alleys and small streets filled with horse carts, classic cars, bicycles, and motorcycles. Public transportation is dominated by pedicabs, tricycle taxis better suited to the narrow lanes.

As we zigzagged our way west over several days we stopped in a variety of old towns, including Sancti Spiritus, Trinidad, Cienfuegos, and Remedios, before finally landing in Havana. Keeping with our educational interactions, our group of mostly Americans met with many artists, dancers, and singers. The ballet company in Camaguey performed a selection of their best dances, as did Marianna’s modern dance company in Havana. In Cienfuegos we were treated to an inspiring selection of songs by the local chorus. In all the stops we experienced local artists who work in paint, sculpture, leather, and discarded old doors and windows. Through translators we heard directly from the artisans about their work.

In Havana we visited the farm Ernest Hemingway lived at for 30 years, leaving after the Castro revolution in 1959. His book collection dominates every room, including the bathroom, where the walls still show his obsessive cataloguing of daily weight. We also visited the Fine Arts Museum, walked the melacon sea wall, rode in classic American cars, and learned the history of Afro-Cuban music and US-Cuban relations.

Marianna and her fellow dancers hugged each of us as we parted, another wonderful memory for an American in Cuba.

I’ll have much more on our Cuban experiences in following posts as I make my way through over 2000 photos. Stay tuned.

[NOTE: Ru has written a beautiful recap of the trip. Read it here!]

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

 

Revisiting Hanoi…and More

Mary Malone, Dublin, IrelandTo say that my first real travel experience outside the United States (other than Bermuda as a college student) was a culture shock would be to make the understatement of the century. After growing up in a small New England town where “traveling vacations” meant loading up the station wagon and driving a few hours away, my first big travel trip was to Hanoi. As in Vietnam.

The flight from Washington DC to New York to Anchorage to Taipei to Hanoi took something like 36 hours. But it was worth it. I’ve written about the experience before when I first started this page in 2012.

Here’s Part 1 that I called “Hanoi on the Half Shell.”

And here’s Part 2, “A Cup of Tea and a Conversation I Didn’t Understand.”

Take a moment to read them as they are fascinating stuff (if I do say so myself).

Since that first trip about 19 years ago I’ve traveled to something over 60 foreign countries, depending on how you count. Just in the last year and a half I’ve been in several places around the United States, a half dozen countries in Europe, five or six Asian countries, Australia, New Zealand, and probably some more I’ve lost track of. I have upcoming trips to a foreign nation I’ll reveal later and a long road trip into the Land of Lincoln.

As Mark Twain has been credited as saying, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” I agree. As I experience new people in new places I find the differences between us exhilarating, and the similarities uncanny. I highly encourage all Americans to get overseas, even if it’s only to familiar places (London) or iconic places (Paris, Rome). If you can, go some place exotic, even if it’s only exotic to you. The key is to get out of your hometown, your home nation, your home mindset. As the commercial goes, Just Do It!

I’m diligently working through thousands of photos (digital is both a godsend and a curse), so look for some great scenery coming again shortly. For now, click on “Travel” above or type in your favorite location in the search box. And have fun exploring.

And if you haven’t already, take a close look at the photo. Not every day you see a donkey head reading the Racing Times.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

Reconstructing Bermuda, Part Deux

David at Sandy HookA while back I wrote a post called Reconstructing Bermuda in which I reminisced about my college semester on that Atlantic Ocean island. In an attempt to sound scholarly, here is Part Deux.

Many years ago I lived in Bermuda for a college semester. There were 15 of us learning how to be marine biologists while living at the Bermuda Biological Station for Research. For two months we studied, we dived, we snorkeled, we spent hours bent over equipment in the laboratory searching for microscopic parasites. Fun was had by all.

That’s how I began the previous post and it’s fitting to use it to set the stage. I’ve written more on trials and travails of that semester on my memoir/creative blog, Hot White Snow. Here are some additional highlights (click on the titles or “Read more” for the full article):

Researching Bermuda

My independent research project for the semester focused on the epibiota of the submerged roots of red mangroves in Walsingham Pond. Red mangroves (Rhizophora mangle) are best known for their aerial prop roots, which help suspend the main trunk and leaves of the tree above the water. Epibiota are those animals and plants that attach themselves to the roots, either permanently or temporarily. In my survey I identified thirty-four different species of attached flora (plants) and fauna (animals). For contrast I also examined the nearby bay, which led to the following encounter with an inquisitive barracuda. [Read more]

The Barracuda of Walsingham Bay, Bermuda

Each of us were required to do a field research project of our own design. Mine was to examine the epibiota on mangrove roots in Walsingham Pond, with a comparison site in Walsingham Bay. I gathered data by snorkeling around both locations and writing my findings on waterproof tablets (the plasticized paper kind, long before iPad-type tablets). A barracuda full of teeth and curiosity followed me around the Bay. It was unnerving, and yet at the same time exhilarating. [Read more]

Copycats in Bermuda

Picture 15 people walking into a local bar, all wearing bright purple t-shirts. Needless to say, we attracted a lot of attention, including from one very lonely sailor and a restroom encounter ending with “Are you all some kind of group?” And that was just the first night.  [Read more]

A Drop of Worthington E

Speaking of bars, our favorite, which we dubbed “The pub is a pub is a pub,” was the scene of one late night beer chugging contest featuring Worthington E on tap. Most of my companions assumed I was a lightweight drinker, but the Worthington E slid down the gullet so easily I found myself in the finals against one of the women in the group. Who won? [Read more] [And no, this was not the reason for the next story]

Bailey’s Bay Slide

Our main mode of transportation around the island was by small motor scooters called moped. While seemingly innocuous, they played central roles in several incidents, including one that makes my knee throb to this day. One day after a light rain we set out on a research expedition that turned out to be more eventful than we anticipated. This is why. [Read more]

The North Rock Song

North Rock sits an 8-mile boat ride from the lab. After a day of diving and snorkeling we kept ourselves entertained working on our tans and singing an old sea ballad. Officially “The Mermaid,” the fifteen of us turned the chanty into our “North Rock” anthem. [Read more]

I have many more fond memories of that time and have reconnected with a few of my fellow explorers in recent years, so expect to see more reminiscing in the future.

 

 

Lincoln: The Fire of Genius is available for purchase at all bookseller outlets. Limited signed copies are available here. The book is also listed on Goodreads, the database where I keep track of my reading. Click on the “Want to Read” button to put it on your reading list. If you read the book, please leave a review and/or rating.

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David J. Kent is President of the Lincoln Group of DC and the author of Lincoln: The Fire of Genius: How Abraham Lincoln’s Commitment to Science and Technology Helped Modernize America and Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America.

Looking for Ljubljana – Slovenia’s Triple Bridge Jewel

Triple bridge, Ljubljana, SloveniaSeveral years ago I took a road trip through central Europe. Starting in Bratislava, the route took us through Vienna, Munich, Fussen (home of the famed Neuschwanstein Castle), Munich, Salzburg, and Budapest. Rather than backtrack through Vienna, we decided on a whim to drive south to the capital city of Slovenia, Ljubljana, home of the triple bridge.

The route from Salzburg went through, over, and under the Austrian Alps. And by under, I mean through several long tunnels bored deep into the mountains, up to 8 kilometers at a time. The views were spectacular; the turn of phrase “clouds laying like cotton quilts in the beds between the ridges” popped into my mind as I drove.

Ljubljana (more or less pronounced, LOOB-Yana) was the kind of quaint old capital city I had come to expect in Europe. Most of the visitor activity was focused on a series of cobblestoned pedestrian streets, old town squares, and the ubiquitous castle high on the hill overlooking the city. While there were modern shops to keep tourists happy, my favorite section of the old town was the farmers market where the local shopkeeper and I communicated enough via hand-signals (to make up for my lack of Slovenian – a Slavic language with occasional Germanic hints) to order a local snack that to do this day I can’t identify. [But it was good]

Feeling energetic, we hiked up to the castle and scanned the city. Feeling less energetic, we took the funicular back to the ground and walked past the Dragon Bridge and on to the more famous tromostovje, the triple bridge. Originally a single stone bridge crossing the Ljubljanica River, two footbridges canted at a slight angle to the main span were added in 1932 to alleviate a traffic bottleneck. When I was there, part of the bridge was undergoing renovation and one of the side bridges was swamped with photo salesmen. Overall, however, the bridge and the city are a jewel for Slovenia.

There is always the danger of becoming jaded by the similarities present in European old towns – all have cobblestoned streets, central squares, and cathedrals with massive castles guarding on high – so I’m always happy to see the more unique street performers and artwork. Ljubljana have many of each. Check out the slideshow below.

While it was not on our originally planned route, and Ljubljana was a long side-trip, it was one that proves the point that you should always be flexible in your travel.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

The Sorrow and Science of Notre Dame de Paris

The artist in ParisYesterday the world watched in horror as the famous Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris blazed into the night. I’ve been to Paris a half a dozen times and on all but one trip (an in/out day train commute from Brussels), I made my pilgrimage to Our Lady, Notre Dame.

One of the marvels of Notre Dame and similar (but never equal) Gothic architecture are the ribbed vaulted ceilings and exterior flying buttresses. These counterbalance the weight of the roof, thus allowing greater height and more space for windows, most prominently the huge rose window, to bring light and color to the interior in the days before electric lamps. Since most of the parishioners at the time were illiterate, copious statuary and towering stained glass windows illustrated biblical stories for the masses.

As the fire burned we all wondered what could be saved. Early signs are that the main towers, walls, and buttresses survived and that the cathedral can be rebuilt, albeit without its centuries-old oak framing. It was that oak framing, as one report put it, “a forest of wooden latticework,” that fueled the fire. Let’s take a closer look.

Most of the framing that held the roof were old-growth trees cut down between 1160 and 1170 – a total of over 13,000 trees – each probably already several hundred years old when cut. For those who have seen Notre Dame, the roof covers a huge expanse, well over 300 feet long and nearly 50 feet wide at its widest, with a sharp pitch to give a peak over 30 feet high from the roof’s base. All this starting more than 100 feet from the cathedral floor. This expansive oak framing was necessary to hold up the heavy lead roof, which weighs in at over 210 tons.

I heard yesterday that as part of the current restoration work (which may have caused the fire) they may have removed several of the large statues from the roof of the cathedral. Thus by a quirk of fate, they are saved. It seems most of the exterior wall gargoyles survived the conflagration. Inside, some of the motive candles lit by current day parishioners and tourists were still gently burning as the wooden framework was being destroyed above.

It will be a while before the final assessment is complete, but early indications are that Notre Dame will be rebuilt with some degree of fealty to the original, although it is impossible to resurrect the centuries-old framework that was lost.

More photos of the interior oak framework can be found on the Notre Dame website. Click around for details on the other features of the cathedral. The text is in French (even on the “English” page) but the photos are worth a look even if you can’t read the language.

Ironically, as I write this I might have been in Paris. I had anticipated renting an apartment for the month of April in the “City of Lights,” but I wasn’t ready to begin researching the book I have in mind so put it off until next year. Although it will take many years to restore the church to any semblance of its former glory, I’ll be back to Paris again soon. As the mourning for Notre Dame so clearly demonstrates, Paris is a city of the world. If you haven’t been there, go. And while you’re there, pay homage to Our Lady, Notre-Dame.

[Photo Credits: Top by David J. Kent, 2008; Interiors from Notre Dame website]

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

Traveling Travails – It Isn’t All the Good Life

Queenstown, New ZealandIn over five years of science traveling I’ve experienced some fantastic locations, but it isn’t all the good life. Sometimes there are traveling travails. I’ve been injured traveling more times than I care to admit, and getting lost is not an uncommon occurrence. The following gives a hint of how sometimes even getting from one place to another can be a bit of a trial.

The scene: We’re part of a small group of six new friends.

The place: Starting in Cairns, Australia, with an ultimate destination of Queenstown, New Zealand.

Okay, that sounds easy enough, right? Except there is no direct flight, which means a day of flying and multiple airports in two countries. I anticipated a long day, but reality turned out to be even more complicated than I imagined. The first leg took us from Cairns to Sydney, where we were to connect with a plane to Auckland. From Auckland (on the north island of New Zealand) we connected again to Queenstown (on the south island).

Pickup at the hotel in Cairns was on time – at 3:40 a.m. Luckily there was no traffic but we cut it close, as in arriving at the gate five minutes before boarding time. The attendant at the check-in counter was efficient enough, though one wouldn’t call her the warmest personality. On boarding, the six of us were spread out in different parts of the plane. Three of us were in the very back and, unlike U.S. planes, they opened up the rear doors for us to enter and depart. Only a few rows from the tail, the three of us disembarked and made our way into the terminal. Given the short connection time, Ru and I immediately headed for the assigned transfer gate to catch our other plane. Our companion told us not to wait for him; he would hit the loo and then wait for the other members of our group. That would be the last we saw of him, or them, until the next day.

Now just two, we found the gate specified by the instructions given to us on check-in, which to our surprise meant loading into a bus that brought us to another terminal for the international flight. This took longer than we expected and dumped us outside a packed security area, which meant long lines going through passport control and baggage checks again, then a long walk to get to our actual departure gate. The gate itself required getting through a rugby scrum of people going downstairs to a series of gates, which meant being careful not to get carried along with the crowd heading to Shanghai instead of Auckland. Another passport check and boarding pass scan got us onto yet another bus to take us out to the plane, which as far as I can tell was not far from where we originally got off our plane from Cairns. As Ru and I walked up the gangway steps into the plane we desperately texted our companions to tell them to hurry. I even begged the head flight attendant not to close the door because they hadn’t arrived yet, even after a second shuttle bus came and went. He shut the door anyway and we were left with three empty seats staring at us from across the aisle, and a fourth between us.

Empty seats

The second connecting flight wasn’t much easier. Despite what the check-in attendant told me in Cairns (that we didn’t have to pick up our bags until Queenstown, which she repeated three times at my doubtful questioning), the flight attendant informed us we did, in fact, have to reclaim our luggage again in Auckland. Here we go again. Passport control, luggage claim, wait in line. The first line looked like the exit after a drive-in movie finished. After an anxious hour and a half, we passed through the “biosecurity screening” checkpoint and were sent out to a counter to re-check our bags. But wait, the woman in the “Drop Bags” area tells us we are now less than 60 minutes before the flight and there is no guarantee that they will get the bags on the next plane. Instead, she tells us, we must go outside the terminal, hike 15-20 minutes with our luggage to the completely separate domestic terminal to check our bags again. But hey, we had a helpful green line to follow down the sidewalk, across the streets (twice), and around the airport to get to the other entrance. Not surprisingly, we had to wait there for the attendant to re-check our luggage before we could walk down an increasingly long terminal, through yet another security check-in and x-ray line, then more walking to finally reach the gate where our plane was revving its engines.

Keep in mind we thought we had something like 3 hours of transfer time. We made it to the gate with only minutes to spare before boarding. But the view was amazing.

New Zealand

The empty seats next to us was a reminder that our travel mates were still somewhere in Sydney. But after our successful arrival in Queenstown we found the Super Shuttle waiting to take six – now two – of us to the hotel. When we arrived he tried to scam $26 each from us before I reminded him it was prepaid. It seems taxi drivers scamming customers is a global thing.

Eventually we found out that our four companions had been able to get a later flight from Sydney to Auckland to Queenstown that night, which was good because we were all scheduled for a tour early the next morning. They were, however, sans luggage, which didn’t arrive until the following night. That didn’t stop all of us from enjoying the next two days trailing in the steps of hobbits and cruising in the fjords of Milford Sound.

These weren’t the only complications on this particular trip, or on other trips I’ve taken. In fact, I’ve come to expect the unexpected when I travel. Sometimes it’s a missed flight or train, sometimes a lack of coordination with local accommodations, sometimes a gravel road where the map says “highway.” I even had one travel agent book my flight to Rome for the night before a flight from the U.S. to Brussels she booked in the same session. That cost me several hundred Euros and a lot of grief. But I made it. And so far I’ve survived, and enjoyed all my travel, despite the travails.

So…Where to next?

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!

The Skull of Hammershus on Bornholm

Den Forhadte Borg. The Hated Castle. Hammershus is Scandinavia’s largest medieval fortress, situated on the northern tip of the Danish island of Bornholm in the Baltic Sea. And if that isn’t ominous enough, they have an eight foot skull embedded in the floor. The skull of Hammershus.

Skull of Hammershus

Hammershus dates back to early in the 13th Century. Initially a residence of the Archbishop of Lund (then part of Denmark), the fortress for the next 500 years served as a stronghold of the island’s various rulers. Repeated wars and rotating residents led to the castle being rebuilt and expanded on several occasions. Partially demolished late in the 18th Century, Hammershus now lays in ruins but remains an important historical site.

I visited only three months after the opening of a new visitor center that provides a panoramic view of the fortress. And that’s where the skull comes in. A human skull was found on the site during an archaeological excavation in the 1940s. Using new 3D scanners, a 2.5-meter replica of that skull was created. Ten tons of robot milled Styrofoam molds formed the base of the sculpture, with acrylic gypsum laminated to its surface. Final surface details were sculpted by hand and the surface was hand-painted to resemble the original as close as possible.

The effect is spectacular. Turning the corner into the visitor center we were all suddenly taken aback by this huge skull lying in front of us. But don’t get too cozy here; head for the viewing platform to the walls and towers of the Hammershus ruins. Plan for extra time and hike up the trail and around the fortress up close. Gaze over the cliffs to the brilliant waters of the Baltic Sea.

After Hammershus we headed for the town of Allinge and a lunch of traditional smoked herring and beer, then to Osterlars for the biggest round church in Denmark. I’ll have more on these other sites on Bornholm later. For now, I’m still thinking about the Skull of Hammershus.

David J. Kent is an avid science traveler and the author of Lincoln: The Man Who Saved America, in Barnes and Noble stores now. His previous books include Tesla: The Wizard of Electricity (2013) and Edison: The Inventor of the Modern World (2016) and two e-books: Nikola Tesla: Renewable Energy Ahead of Its Time and Abraham Lincoln and Nikola Tesla: Connected by Fate.

Check out my Goodreads author page. While you’re at it, “Like” my Facebook author page for more updates!