Category Archive: tour guide

The benefit of an alpine lake

Today I would have taken my group to “mad” (entirely sane) King Ludwig’s fairytale Neuschwanstein Castle. Folks invariably enjoy it, albeit amazed at the tourist swam. Afterward, we sit down to a picnic… Continue reading

King’s Day Anyway

The Dutch sky hadn’t decided if it was going to rain or not when I snuck out of the hotel around six in the morning. The student staff of the best hotel in… Continue reading

Coming home

The truth is, I have trouble coming home. On one level it’s just logistical withdrawal. I go from leading my 27 newest friends on a busy tour of some of the greatest things… Continue reading

Gratitude for Georgia

All the Renaissance masters, Roman gods, and Golden Age heroes showed up right when I needed them, no one was grievously injured, and even the weather behaved itself (for the most part). So… Continue reading

Two days away

My next tour starts in two days, and I know what the hardest part will be. A tour is an odd blend of likelihood and happenstance, earned probability and inevitable surprises. Will we… Continue reading

What are you going to do now, Paris?

Standing in front of Notre Dame Cathedral I had a lot of answers. 12-14th century, Judean Kings, and here are 10 things you can do tonight. Another 21-day tour almost finished, I was… Continue reading

The Grumps don’t win

The Venetians built a church specially-designed for Vivaldi. A pair of 14 year old twins can increase my hope for the future. And the reason cows wear bells is because their horns don’t… Continue reading

Paris dreaming

The good news is that I’ve found a new way up to the castle. More interesting, with stuff to see along the way, versus the dull direct path we’ve taken before. As a… Continue reading

Living the dream

I had a dream when I was a kid. A literal, “I’m asleep” kind of dream, that is. This isn’t an inspirational post. In it, I’m swimming along the bottom of the pool,… Continue reading

Feeling fine and Florentine

“The Tuscan Frying Pan,” Florence was earning its title that day, certified in sweat dripping down the backs and sides of tourists squinting in the Piazza della Signoria, and my hair felt, again,… Continue reading