June Bivins wasn’t crazy about visiting Germany. “I do love German cars,” said my Auburn friend, “but can’t handle polka music.”  Yet she made plans to meet her sister and niece in Europe. “The draw is the connection to my mother,” she said. “Her unmet dream was the Passion Play in Oberamergau, so we’re going. And Mom was a Neuenschwander so King Ludwig must be my ancestor.” (Not  often do you find one so eager to claim the Mad King as kin.)

After seeing relatives in Switzerland, the girls drove through the magical Black Forest to Fussen. “It’s like something out a childhood fairy tale,” June said. “You can almost hear Snow White singing Some Day My Prince Will Come.” Fussen is filled with friendly people and quaint shops brimming with Birkenstocks. Loved the Biergartens.” Beer garden is a generic term for an open-air food/drink establishment, and its roots come from Bavaria when breweries dug cellars by river banks to keep the ale cool. In the warm months they added tables and benches, serving the brew straight from the source.

Hotel Sonne in the heart of Fussen is warm and welcoming with bright rooms, a great breakfast-buffet featuring Black Forest Ham and free Internet. Good value at $180.00 (hotels.com)

The famous Neuschwanstein Castle is close by. “I couldn’t wait to jog up the path for tour,” June said, reminding me of my trek on Germany’s “Romantic Road” years ago. As castles go, its not old. Built for pure pleasure, the setting is so enchanting it inspired Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland.

June, seeking proof of her distant royal blood, sought out the scoop on Ludwig II. Born in 1845, he was the last king of the sovereign kingdom of Bavaria. Alas, politics was not his passion. The shy king preferred the company of peasants in his beloved Alps to the pomp and circumstance of Munich, behavior that raised suspicious eyebrows. When war forced Ludwig to cede power to the Prussians, he concentrated on creating his fanciful castle after those of the old German knights of myth and legend.

Neuschwanstein construction began in 1869. Four years later 15 carpenters were still fashioning the woodwork in Ludwig’s bedroom. Ornate wall tapestries pay homage to composer Richard Wager with scenes from his famous operas. Most fascinating is the Grotto room, an artificial cave complete with stalactites. Perched over a spectacular gorge in the Hohenschwangau Valley, every castle window has a view to die for. And this king did. His cabinet thought Ludwig’s lavish habits called for drastic action. They claimed he was unfit to rule, citing his excessive spending, extreme shyness and strange hallucinations. It must be insanity. Poor Ludwig never enjoyed this castle. Shortly after move-in, he was arrested and two days later his body was found at the bottom of a shallow lake. Murder, suicide? Only the shadow knows.

Mad or not, Ludwig made his mark on Germany. Seven weeks after his death, his unfinished castle opened to the public. How ironic that a castle built as a private and sacred refuge now has thousands of tourists a day tramping through. “I doubt he was crazy,” June says. “I think he died of a broken heart. It took a genius imagination to build something this amazing. Maybe divine inspiration. Touring the castle you see signs of deep faith. Too bad the government was out to get him for spending too much money.” (Maybe some free-spenders in Congress could learn something from Ludwig’s sad tale?) Unfortunately for June, she is no relation to the eccentric king. “What a bummer.”

Now resigned to her common status, June chauffeured the girls to Oberammergau, the spiritual heart of Bavaria. Gripped by war and famine the town vowed that if God spared them they’d re-enact the last days of Christ’s life. Since 1634 the whole village brings the story to life, May through September, in the final year of every decade. “Five hours with a 3-hour break for dinner, all on an open air stage. All in German, but a playbook in English. An incredible experience.”

June is a fan of Germany now. “Bavaria is such a feast on the eyes.” She’s still working on the polka.

Are you looking for an affordable day trip that combines comfort, convenience and extraordinary entertainment?  Take advantage of Capitol Corridor’s midweek senior discount and take a ride to see J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan in San Francisco!  It’s a family experience that fits all those categories perfectly.

Summer Family Fun Begins with Peter Pan

Another beautiful day is forecast for our journey over to San Francisco on the Capitol Corridor train to see the spectacular live production of J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan in a huge tent just down the Embarcadero from the Ferry Building.  Lois and I are taking advantage of the half-price senior fare (Tuesday – Thursday).  We could have also taken the train to shop in Berkeley or visit the fascinating Tech Museum of Innovation in San Jose, but we chose to take our grandson, Konnor, to see Peter Pan instead since he was anxious to start his summer vacation doing something fun.  Besides, he loves to ride the Capitol Corridor with us.  I think our enthusiasm for trains has rubbed off on him.

8:30 AM: All Aboard to J.M. Barrie’s Neverland!

The three of us boarded Train 531 and at 8:30 am departed for Emeryville.  As we crossed over the Sacramento River the Tower Bridge came into view.  As one of the city’s most interesting landmarks, the construction of the Tower Bridge began in July 1934.  It was built to replace the old M Street Bridge.  The Tower Bridge was dedicated in December 1935.  The bridge is painted a gold color so that with the special lighting added in 1989 it becomes a significant feature on the Sacramento River at night.

Breakfast in the CafŽ Car was enjoyable as we talked to Konnor regarding his plans to take golf lessons and go to skateboard camp this summer.  Our train ride to Emeryville was just as pleasant as our last trip over to PIER 39, especially since we were able to point out the various items of interest to Konnor.  A young person’s thirst for information seems endless and it really keeps his grandparents from becoming too complacent with life.

10:45 AM: Arrive at San Francisco’s Ferry Park

We arrive at the Emeryville station at 10:08 am where we boarded the Amtrak Thruway bus arriving at the Ferry Building at 10:45 am.  Again, we were overwhelmed by the large number of tourists in the area.  It was fun watching the old street cars lumbering up and down The Embarcadero.

At the entrance of the large tent housing the production of Peter Pan we were directed to the concession pavilion where we could wait for the one-hour backstage tour “Into Neverland” (an additional cost beyond the theater admission).  While waiting for the tour to start we enjoyed perusing the free exhibit “J.M. Barrie – One Hundred Years of Peter Pan.”

“Into Neverland” Backstage Tour

The backstage tour was mainly presented in a series of interesting video clips introduced by one of San Francisco’s professional actors.  We were amazed at the enormity of the main tent which is supported by an external framework of steel that allows the performers to “fly” all around the interior without having any poles to obstruct their movement.  This also permits an unobstructed projection of the 360 degree CGI visual scenery.  The cupola of the tent (more than 100 feet above the stage) contains the special flying equipment for the actors as well as lighting, sound and air conditioning equipment, together weighing over 10 tons.  It takes four days to erect the complicated tent and equipment; construction that requires 25 forty-foot cargotainers to be unpacked for each city’s performance.

Peter Pan Comes Alive in the 360 Degree Stage!

The production of Peter Pan with its live actors flying above the circular stage against the enormous 360 degree CGI backdrop was an awesome sight and made the traditional story of Peter Pan come alive in a visually stimulating way.  This is truly a one-of-a-kind production to be enjoyed by young and old alike.

At the conclusion of the show, we walked across the street to the Ferry Building where we boarded the Amtrak Thruway bus.  At Emeryville, we climbed aboard the Capitol Corridor Train 542 and headed home.  A visit to the CafŽ Car provided our starving grandson with a light meal as we rolled smoothly along toward Sacramento.  When asked how he enjoyed his day, our grandson replied, “It was really cool!”

Seniors can receive a free “Into Neverland” backstage tour when they purchase tickets for the August 4th matinee of Peter Pan using the code TRAINSR .

Jan and Carl, making a rubbing for their neighbor at the Vietnam Wall.

My country tis of free, many sites don’t charge a fee.

Washington Dc is packed with  amazing history, architecture, culture, science and politics, and the forever-free Smithsonian is worth my precious tax dollars. A British scientist who’d never been to America willed his estate to the US which became nineteen world class museums with 137 million objects, artwork and specimens. We ooh and awe over the original Star Spangled Banner at the American History Museum. I hum “Over the rainbow” when Carl snaps my picture with Dorothy’s ruby red slippers. At the Air and Space Museum our grandson studies the Wright Brothers flyer then plays pilot in a mock cockpit. Our mind boggles at the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, how our government designs, prints, stacks, and cuts those greenbacks.

At sunset DC becomes a different city. Old Town Trolley Monuments by Moonlight tour shows it off right.  The anecdotes and historical tidbits by our driver make this a must-splurge: three captivating hours for $31. (trustedtours.com) Try biking the sites, a bargain at $30 for all day from Bike and Roll. First stop for us, the Vietnam Wall, to pay tribute to our neighbor’s brother, Paul J. Bruno. We finally find his name high up on the black granite, and a helpful park ranger fetches us a ladder so we can make Joe a rubbing. As we peddle to Arlington National Cemetery I remember growing up in the turbulent sixties; war protests, anger over an unpopular war. Here it’s about healing and honor. In 1982 the Wall brought long-due respect to soldiers who answered our country’s call, right or wrong.

At the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, I swell up with more pride in our military at the changing of the guard. As we hike up the grave-lined paths to Arlington House, General Robert E. Lee’s former mansion perched on a knoll above the Potomac, it seems out of place among 250,000 military headstones.  I learn that Lincoln offered Lee command of the Union Army. I imagine a proud soldier pacing across the portico, torn between his loyalty to the Union and his duty to Virginia. He refused Lincoln and wrote his resignation here. This is more than just a house, but a symbol of the human struggle and the power of a decision. Next day we tour the Capitol with Congressman McClintock’s aide, but miss our timed visit to the National Archives. (poor advance planning on my part)  With our espionage-loving grandson we pop into the newly opened International Spy Museum. Skip this, not worth $17.

At Ford’s Theater museum we see the pistol that killed Lincoln, then a performance of One Destiny where two men grapple with: Could John Wilkes Booth have been stopped? A fascinating treat for just $5. (I ask grandson Andrew his favorite DC site. He says Ford’s Theater.)  Lincoln wasn’t scheduled to see Our American Cousin that night but at his wife’s urging he changed his mind at the last minute. Sometimes it’s choice, not chance, that determines our destiny.

With careful planning, a trip to DC won’t break the bank. Budget hotels can be had through Hotwire for a fraction of the rack rate. Make sure you sleep close to the Metro Station, the best (most exciting) way to navigate DC. Cheap food is a challenge, so trail the locals. Mornings we feasted on a fresh “build a breakfast sandwich” with 99-cent coffee at the Au Bon Pain near our downtown hotel.  Travel light; fill a backpack with your day’s needs, an umbrella, sunscreen, snacks to resist the temptation to pay sky-high food prices at museum cafes (money pits) or street vendors. Hungry near Capitol Mall? Meander over to the Union Station food court for an inexpensive meal and browse through the upscale shops in the grand old Beaux-Arts style train station with its gold-gilded main foyer.

Being where history happened does something inside me. It’s not about admiring famous monuments or remarkable buildings, but listening to the stories they tell. Travel is a most compelling teacher.

Like all great travelers I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.  ~Benjamin Disraeli

“A morsel of genuine history is a thing so rare as to be always valuable.” -Thomas Jefferson

Long before the Pilgrims, the English planted a colony at Jamestown and a hybrid culture of hardy people tamed the land that later became America. In Williamsburg patriots like Patrick Henry birthed the revolution. Down the road in Yorktown, Cornwallis surrendered to General Washington. Virginia is our summer destination with our grandson to give him a taste of “liberty fever.”

The Jamestown settlement (historyisfun.org) is a fun, fact-filled place to begin. We wander through the reed-covered Powhatan village, drape ourselves in animal skins for a photo op, explore the fort, chat with costumed characters on the riverfront. Andrew tries his hand at hoisting the sails of the Godspeed, a re-creation of one of three ships bringing colonists across the pond. We wonder: Would we take this 4 month journey to the unknown or wimp out?

Over in Historic Jamestown we view the archeological digs at the actual site. “Andrew, you’re walking in the footsteps of Captain John Smith and Pocahontas,” I say, then explain that “the Disney movie is not real history,” Thumbs up for the National Park Visitor Center; clever enough to interest a young teen.

In 18th Century Colonial Williamsburg we are charmed, first with the film, “Story of a Patriot” where Jack Lord (Hawaii Five-O) is fictional John Frye, newly-elected to the House of Burgess. He is swept into the freedom debate and must search his soul: Patriot or Loyalist, what will it be? Thomas Jefferson helps him decide not to join the 100,000 colonists who won’t buck the king, who would rather flee to England or Nova Scotia as did my ancestors. Oh, I like to scoff at their (chicken) choice, claiming I’d have pulled a Patrick Henry, “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death.” Sounds noble, but this trip gives me fresh insight to the words: “With a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes, our sacred honor.” (Declaration of Independence) They were willing to hang for treason if their cause failed.

Williamsburg is a real revolutionary town where hundreds of costumed interpreters re-create life and colorful street performances showcase the struggles of simple people determined to form an independent nation. You can wander about for free and see the fife and drum corps march the village green, but you pay $36 to join the costumed interpreters at the trade shops and taverns, Governor’s Palace and the Capitol. (colonialwilliamsburg.org) In Raleigh’s Tavern we can almost smell the pipe smoke as we’re transported back to strategy meetings of our founding fathers.

In historic Yorktown, the American Revolution Museum blends film, themed exhibits and living history. Here, E pluribus unum becomes real to us. Out of many, one. Many people from varied cultures joined together to shape a new society. Outside, the re-created Army encampment gives Andrew a good glimpse at the daily routines of a soldier, six to a tent, one meager meal a day, constant military drills. Nearby, the National Park Service operates the Yorktown Battlefield Historical Park. Most memorable, the costumed park rangers firing off cannons, explaining the role artillery played in the Siege of Yorktown, the last major battle of the war.

Consider a “bounce pass” so you can spend a day at Busch Gardens, a beautifully landscaped, giant theme park that takes you through six Old World European countries. My tricky neck kept me off the roller coasters, but we all enjoyed a good soak on the Roman Rapids.

I snagged bargain airfare for $205 RT on Southwest into Norfolk, booked our hotel through Hotwire for $74, a nice King room and pull-out sofa in separate alcove. It included a great breakfast which helped feed a growing teen. Did our grandson come away appreciating what it took to become this nation, what it means to be a patriot, a proud defender of the land you love? We can only hope that Andrew will remember the early patroits and their story of conviction and strength in the sight of imposing odds. God Bless America.

My name is Sterling Parrish.  My wife Lois and I have been avid travelers since we married over 50 years ago. Lately we have been exploring all that northern California has to offer by taking daytrips. For our latest adventure we took the train to San Francisco.

Lois and I eased into a parking space at the Sacramento Valley Station. With our online reservation confirmation in hand we proceeded to the Quik-Trak self-service ticketing machine where the scanner read the barcode and our tickets were instantly printed. It was only a matter of minutes before they announced that our train is now boarding for San Francisco. Our destination today is Pier 39 where once again we will enjoy playing tourist, watching people, checking out the various attractions and eventually settling into one of the many restaurants on Fisherman’s Wharf.

Right on schedule, the train smoothly eases out of the station and crosses the bridge over the Sacramento River. The old sternwheeler Delta King sits smugly tied-up at the dock in Old Sacramento. The Delta King was built in Stockton by the California Navigation & Improvement Company and was launched May 9,1925. Its sister ship, Delta Queen, is still plying the waters of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. Now it is time to visit the cafe car for a couple of cups of coffee and sweet rolls. The cafe car offers a nice selection of other breakfast items as well as fresh-brewed coffee, tea and hot chocolate. We can now enjoy the newspaper, work on the Jumble puzzle and struggle over the Cryptoquote.

Our first station stop is Davis at a quaint renovated Southern Pacific station. Most of the commuters have arrived at the station on their bicycles. Parking poses no problem for these young business people who seem anxious to set up their laptop computers while munching on their breakfast.

The scenery passing by our large picture window – rice fields, large farms, housing developments, rolling hills, and the usual multitude of drivers on the 1-80 causeway making their stressful daily commute to Oakland or San Francisco and beyond. As usual, our comfortable ride on Capitol Corridor is stress-free. In about 25 minutes we make our next stop at Suisun-Fairfield followed shortly by Martinez and Richmond. Off in the distance we can see the ghostly gray “mothball” fleet of US warships languishing in the bay since the end of World War II, but soon to be sold or towed away for salvage.  Crossing over the Carquinez Strait that joins Suisun Bay with San Pablo Bay provides us with a totally different view as we glide over the bridge.

About an hour later the Jumble is finally solved as we pull into Berkeley, home of the University of California. We are now only minutes away from Emeryville where we will disembark and board the waiting shiny, new thruway motorcoach bus for a short ride over the Bay Bridge to our destination, PIER39. The bus also stops at the Financial District, Ferry Building, SF Shopping Center, Civic Center, Moscone Center and the Caltrain Station. But for today, we have decided to enjoy the sights along San Francisco’s famous Fisherman’s Wharf. Here you’ll find crab stands, seafood restaurants, and endless souvenir shops in the historic heart of San Francisco’s fishing industry.

We chose PIER 39 not only for the many seafood restaurants but also because it is only a short walk to Ghirradelli Square, the former chocolate factory, as well as the Aquatic Park and the SF Maritime National Historic Park at the Hyde Street Pier. The Powell-Hyde cable car turntable is conveniently located at the edge of the park. On other day trips like this we have opted to walk along The Embarcadero to the Ferry Building for the return bus ride to Emeryville. The historic renovated Ferry Building at the foot of Market Street is now a world-class food market with at least 40 specialty shops and restaurants. It also provides an interesting history of the restored building itself.

Before lunch, we stop to watch the fascinating antics of the sea lions which first decided to take up residence in San Francisco Bay in January 1990. At that time there were about 150. By March of that year their number had increased to 400.

After browsing through the various shops and watching the amazing feats of a skilled juggler, Lois and I decide to have lunch at the Pier Market – Seafood Restaurant & Fish Market. We are seated by a large window with of view of the boats, Alcatraz Island and those indolent sea lions lounging on the platforms built just for them. Our seafood lunch is delicious and our server is attentive and pleasant.

Soon we board the Amtrak thruway motorcoach bus back to Emeryville. Within minutes, we are on board the train and headed toward Sacramento. The ride is smooth and even without the old familiar clickety-clack of the wheels, it easy to fall asleep.

Our mini-vacation comes to an end as we pull into the station at Sacramento. It has been a delightful day, thanks to Capitol Corridor.

The day my first passport came, the travel bug hit me like a double–decker bus. I remember “Around the World in Eighty Days” where Philias Fogg goes on a global sojourn to win a bet. I never forgot the tagline: “See everything in the world worth seeing. Do everything in the world worth doing.”  I’m still on that quest. There have been some captivating and crazy (ask me about Budapest) moments. Wouldn’t trade a one, for as John Steinbeck said, “A journey is like a marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you can control it.” There are some things we can do to make travel more memorable.

• Carry a guidebook, but to find the best haunts query the locals. Where would you send a tourist in Sacramento or the foothills? Probably a unique spot or quaint eatery that reflects the region’s character and flavor. We rub elbows with merchants, shoppers and diners, asking for suggestions.
• Pack ample medications in labeled containers. A no-brainer, unless you’re me, I’m notorious for tossing different pills and vitamins into one plastic bottle to save space. Security waylaid me once, but a sweet smile saved the day.
• I always tote an empty refillable water bottle to the airport. Once through security, I head for the water fountain. It may be a while before beverage service comes around and you need a sip.
• Never leave home without duct tape. It repairs and tamper-proofs luggage, fixes hems, becomes a label, even water-proofs shoes in a pinch. Want to keep something dry, put it in a plastic bag, wrap with duct tape which was originally designed to protect ammo in WWII.
• Opt for the hop-on-hop-off city bus or boat tour for a relaxing overview of the highlights. In London, after the long flight, we shuffled our near-comatose bodies on the double-decker bus that stopped at all major landmarks. For lunch we hopped off at a fun pub that shouted our names.
• For hotel bargains, try Hotwire.com.  You pay by credit card before the hotel name is revealed, but you see a map of the area, a list of amenities, nearby attractions and price including taxes. For a Nashville I made my choice and pulled the trigger. Bingo, we were booked into the Union Station Wyndham Historic Hotel, the old train station, gallantly restored. Super treat, super bargain. This month we’re off to DC with  grandson Andrew. Hotwire snagged us a Four Points Sheraton Hotel near the White House for $87 a night and a nice 3-star hotel in Williamsburg for $74. Works for me. Don’t like risk? Try their sister site: hotels.com.
• A cruise can be the perfect getaway, so snag a bargain at www.VacationsToGo.com. If you’re flexible you can book a “FAST DEAL” for even less than half price. Choose your destination, then call the cruise specialist at 800-338-4962.
• Resist the urge for Europe in Eight Days or tours that include exhausting one-nighters. Don’t succumb to “destination disease” as we did on our Midnight Sun Memories trip last August. Four countries in 16 days (15 nights) proved a bit too much. But we rationalized, “We might as well stop off in St. Petersburg, and we shouldn’t pass up Copenhagen.” Just when we mastered the money and the Metro, we packed up to catch a plane, train or boat. My motto: quality over quantity.  Fewer sites, more experiences. Truly, what you don’t see you won’t miss.
• Check out www.seniortravel.about.com for helpful articles like whether you need travel insurance and how to navigate through the myriad of choices. Not comfortable with the Internet? Ask your cyber-savvy grandkids or a travel-junkie like me—who gets jazzed every time she surfs around travel sites—to help you out.
• People hit the road for different reasons; escape, relaxation, adventure, fun. Hubby and I will travel until we can’t. It’s like those chips we can’t stop munching. But with travel we come back changed, more wisdom, more compassion, more zest for life. We hope it rubs off on Andrew. If you’re off somewhere this summer, enjoy the serendipity.

“Australia,” my hubby said, adrenalin rising. “The Great Barrier Reef.” My whines won over Crocodile Coleman Dundee with an added week in southern France hiking through castle ruins, canoeing down the Dordogne, exploring prehistoric caves. Carl begged off the language lessons. “But, if we don’t attempt French we can’t expect much help.” You’ll manage dear, he muttered. First you master the basics: “Bon Jour” (hello), “Merci” (thank you) and Excusez-moi (excuse me) spoken a dozen times a day by confused and clumsy tourists. .

Paris is a magnificent city of incomparable assets, just as Eduard described. Ah…landing in ze French capital is like ze dream come true. I took in the must-see sights and embraced the not-quite-so-enchanting landscape. Before we arrived, a terrorist subway bombing put Paris on high alert. Security checks everywhere, the garbage cans welded shut throughout the city. Carl found the distraction a bit delightful. “Trudging through the trash in Paris. You can’t buy memories like that.”

After a quick quiche on our final night, we retrieved our bags from our pension guest house across from Notre Dame. Carl glanced at his watch. “We’re late. We’ll have to make a run for the Metro.” Au revoir to Paris as we raced over the cobblestones with our carry-on wheeled backpacks strapped on our backs. Once underground we pressed on through the Art Nouveau station and its maze of tunnels. “Which line gets us to the train terminal?” Carl asked, Not sure. Too confusing. Too tired. Back hurts.

“We have to take this one!” Carl herded me through the crowd. We wedged ourselves and our gear—standing room only—among hoards of night-owls poring through the spreading doorway. I love a city that never sleeps.

“We’re cutting it too close,” Carl said. Too many stops, too little time. Panic set in thinking of our pre-paid sleeping car to Bordeaux. It leaves in nine minutes. Please Lord, we need a miracle.

A voice rang out in broken English. “Where is it you wish to go?” Gare De Lyon I replied to the tall stranger in a dark suit who sounded like Maurice Chevalier. “Stay with me. I will lead you there.” Merci…Merci….And before Carl could protest, the Metro door swung open and “Maurice” snatched my bag with all my Paris goodies. Yikes, where is my traveler savvy? Stealing is rampant in Paris. I’ll never live this down. Should have gone to the Great Barrier Reef.

“Come. Hurry,” said the alleged thief, toting my battered bag. Suddenly, we faced a broad lineup of snorting engines on many tracks. “Where is your destination,” Maurice asked. Bordeaux? He pointed to the far side of the terminal and motioned for us to follow once more. I paused to catch my breath and tie my shoe. Maurice, with a broad smile urged me on, “Nearly there, you can do it.” With true Hollywood suspense we hoisted our weary bodies on the train just as it chugged away from the tracks.

Merci boucoup, Messeur, Merci….. What? Carl was speaking in perfect French. “Oh, I glanced at the phrase book once or twice.” Once settled into our sleeping compartment, I hummed myself to sleep with a personalized tune from Gigi. “Thank Heaven for the friendly French.” And we never even knew his name.

In travel—as in life—attitude is everything. What you seek you are sure to find. Look for rudeness, and you’ll spot it everywhere. Give me a smile and serendipity at every corner. On the left bank or the right, on the Metro or the TGV, when it sizzles or when it drizzles. I’m coming back someday. And as Sabrina Fairchild told Linus, “Paris is always a good idea.”

Last October, they booked two nights at the St. George Hotel. “Elsa greeted us with her charming English accent,” Brenda says. “She led us to our corner room with wraparound balcony and French doors overlooking exquisite gardens. So peaceful. Instant decompression from our hectic week.” They lunch at the Whiskey Flat Saloon, circa 1930, where “Chef Carl prepared us a fabulous lunch, and the whole placed toasted us on our 25th, then he made us a surprise dinner for the theater. No wonder the St. George Hotel Restaurant continues to be voted #1 restaurant in Amador County.”

For theater-going couples like Brenda and Steve, it doesn’t get much better than the Volcano Outdoor Amphitheater where it’s bring your own lawn chairs and food for a “delightful professional-quality play” under the stars performed by local volunteer actors. Tickets just $15, $13 for seniors. First, the Niemann’s find champagne and heart-shaped flutes on Main Street, then grab their dinner (delicious pasta and chicken) and lawn chairs and walk over from the hotel. “Corks popped amidst fellow theater goers’ well wishes for us. We felt like royalty,” Brenda adds. During intermission volunteers serve refreshments, then the whole audience heads to the Moose Lodge for an after-show cast party. “We felt like we lived there. We love visiting small towns.”

Saturday breakfast is fresh baked pastry creations at Humble Pies & Coffee, a favorite with local chowhounds. Then off to Daffodil Hill for a stroll around the old barn, wagon wheels and rusted mining equipment. “Imagine what it looks like in full bloom,” Brenda tells Steve. The old homestead, a working ranch owned by the McLaughlin family, is carpeted with 300,000 daffodils. Visit March 20 through first three weeks of April, 10-4. Admission free.

“We had to stop in Pine Grove on beautiful Highway 88 for a bit of antique hunting,” Brenda says. “Then pop over to Indian Grinding Rock State Historic Park & Campground with the Chaw’se Regional Indian Museum, which features outstanding exhbits of Sierra Nevada Indian artifacts, even a complete Miwok village.” The park nestles 2,400 feet above sea level with meadows and big valley oaks that gave area native Americans a generous supply of acorns.

Steve drives past the Black Chasm Cavern, but suggests saving it for another trip. “We spotted 88 Giant Burgers To Go, a tiny pink building in Pine Grove with nonstop customers and the best cheeseburgers ever!”

Volcano is just 25 minutes from the Shenandoah Valley where you can enjoy Amador Counties local award winning wine. Niemann’s first stop, AVIO Winery in a stunning setting “where you can rent a private spa bungalow with a to-die-for view.” Second stop, Sutter Ridge Vineyards. “Beautiful, reminds me of Italy,” Brenda says with a swoon. Day ends at the Kennedy Mine Theater in Jackson where they tote their lawn chairs, and their leftover surprise dinner from Friday night.

Options for Sunday are endless; Sutter Creek Blues Grass Festival, Sutter Ridge Vineyards for concert, Murphy’s Ironstone Vineyards outdoor amphitheater. Murphy’s won out. “Why not, we have lawn chairs?” Brenda says. They love charming Murpheys, where they spent their 24th anniversary last year. “We bought deli sandwiches at the market, then picked our perfect lawn sitting area and thoroughly enjoyed the final outdoor event of the weekend, an amazing jazz performance.” Steve promises his bride, “We’ll be back next year.”

Directions from Jackson. Go east 8 miles to Pine Grove/Volcano Road. Travel 3 miles to Volcano.

St. George Hotel http://www.stgeorgehotel.com

Volcano Theater Company http://www.volcanotheatre.org

Black Chasm Cavern www.caverntours.com 88 Giant Burgers To Go, 209-296-7277

Kennedy Mine Amphitheater, Jackson, http://www.mstw.org 209-267-5680

AVIO Vineyards, 209-267-1515 http://www.aviowine.com

Sutter Ridge Vineyards & Winery, 209-267-1316 www.sutterridgewine.com

When their Irish-savvy wrong-side-of-road friends canceled last minute, Jim and Judi braved it on their own. “First night, Malahide, a quaint village outside Dublin with a wonderful 13th century castle,” Judi says. “Our B&B hostess suggested we train to Dublin, not drive. Bless her.” City sights enjoyed via the “hop-on, hopoff” bus with Trinity College and the Book of Kells—the monks’ medieval masterpiece— highlights. “Amazing to see how scribes and artists illuminated the four gospels in 800 AD.”

Their B&B’s were pre-booked, though inns are plentiful in the most remote spots, so free-spirits can wing it. “Proprietors are friendly and welcoming,” Judi says. “Willing to talk, give suggestions, share travel tips.” Nice rooms run around 75 euro ($105), splurges for $150.

Weather is not why you come to Ireland, nor why you stay away. Rain is a given, but the Braddy’s find they’ve come during the worst wet spell in the century. “The Irish take it in stride, so will we,” Judi vows. And as the Norwegians say, No such thing as bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.

Jim tosses all health concerns aside to kiss the legendary Blarney Stone. You ascend the castle’s peak and lean backwards on the parapet’s edge. (Tripadvisor.com ranks this the most unhygienic tourist attraction in the world.) On to Cobh (“Cove”) and the “Queenstown Story,” an enlightening look at Irish immigration and the place that launched the “coffin” ships. Cobh was also the last port for the fated Titanic.

Next stop—my favorite—the Dingle Peninsula, a remote finger of unspoiled countryside with rugged coastline, sandy beaches, and small towns brimming with character. “We hit driving rain at gale force. Not a good sign,” Jim says.

Warmed by a peat fire at a local pub— another one named Murphys—Judi samples the famous “black pudding,” made with fresh pig blood. “Not bad.” Next day’s plan; drive the peninsula, enjoy the early Christian monuments, snapping photos at Celtic Crosses marking ancient graves. But the gully washers convince them to head back to Dublin. “Our B&B host suggested a stop in Adare,” Judi says. Ireland’s prettiest village, it’s a portrait of perfect stonework and thatched roof cottages.

They laugh at the car’s GPS system, dubbed “Garmina” and her British accent. “She freaked out over road detours, her panicky voice shouting “recalculating…recalculating…” Rain or shine, the Braddy’s will return. “The incredible scenery, the irrepressible attitudes of the Irish make up for any climate challenge.”

My Irish roots are luring me back. Great grand-parents immigrated to Boston during the 1840’s potato famine. So our first trip included the Strokestown Famine Museum, a riveting re-telling of the tragic blight that wiped out 75 % of the potato crop. People starved while the British ruled the country. Fascinating, yet somber.

By 1855 nearly all of the population struggled for new life in America, and 34 million like me claim pride in Irish ancestry; plus 29 presidents, Walt Disney, Grace Kelley, John Wayne, more. Irish hands helped build our country.

Now, everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. What a patron saint; English born, kidnapped by Irish pirates as a boy, imprisoned for six years and then turned to God. After escaping, he became a priest and returned to Ireland. His legacy is a cause to smile. “When Irish eyes are smiling, tis like a morn in spring. With a lily of Irish laughter, you can hear the angels sing. When Irish hearts are happy, all the world is bright and gay. And when Irish eyes are smiling, they steal your heart away.”