A TRAVELLER’S PALETTE: COLOR SERIES—WHITE
This series titled “A Traveler’s Palette” highlights the colors that make my travels so memorable. Each post focuses on one color and contains a few special photos along with the background of each. The world is a rainbow, and I am constantly chasing that pot of gold.
WHITE: purity, virtue, innocence, clarity, cleanliness, simplicity, flawlessness
CLOISTERED NUN COOKIES
In the middle of Madrid, Spain, you can find a special sweet treat, but it takes a little effort to obtain. Before visiting the city, I had read about a very unique shopping experience at the Monastery of Corpus Christi and knew I just had to try it out.
At the monastery’s main door, I rang the bell, and a nun answered through an intercom system. I said, “Dulces, por favor” (Sweets, please), and she remotely unlocked the door to let me inside. I walked down a long hallway to a lazy-Susan-style turntable inset between two rooms. The turntable has vertical dividers which hide the cloistered nuns. They make goodies every day and sell them in this way so as not to be seen.
At the turntable, there was a menu, and, with the best Spanish pronunciation I could muster, I asked for the shortbread cookies. The nun on the other side said, “Nueve” (9 Euros), and I placed my money on the turntable. She spun it around, took the bill, and spun it again to reveal my box of cookies and my change. It was like magic!
With the box in tow, I made my way out of the monastery and meandered to a small square nearby. I opened the box to reveal little round cookies dusted with brilliantly white powdered sugar. The cookies were mega-delicious, and I nibbled on them day after day. I even took them on the train with me when I left Madrid and snacked on them throughout the journey, inadvertently blowing fine plumes of white, sugary dust about the train car.
For some reason, this experience made me think of Shakespeare’s Hamlet telling Ophelia, “Get thee to a nunnery!” I bet she wouldn’t have taken that as an insult had she known the kind of sweets nuns can make!
NORMANDY AMERICAN CEMETERY
Atop the cliffed coast in Normandy, France, sits a peaceful and sobering cemetery that honors American troops who died in Europe during WWII. A striking memorial and lovely gardens surround the burial places for nearly 10,000 military dead, most of whom lost their lives in the D-Day landings and subsequent battles.
Wandering through this cemetery is the only way to slightly grasp the immense loss that occurred during this war. Row upon row upon row of white, marble headstones stretch across the manicured grass. The headstones bear one of two shapes: a Latin cross or a star of David depending on the religion of the deceased.
A sea of white headstones marking the resting place of thousands dead; the ebbing waves of Omaha Beach; the hallowed spirit that encases the grounds: these are sights and sentiments that I will never forget.
TREVI FOUNTAIN
It’s hard for me to pick a favorite spot in Rome, but Trevi Fountain is certainly near the top of the list. Yes, it’s touristy. Yes, it’s crowded. Yes, you may be pickpocketed. But the luster of the white, Carrara marble is worth viewing.
The legend says that throwing a coin into the fountain ensures your return to the Eternal City. It has certainly worked for me! I have been to Rome several times now, and I have tossed in a coin each time truly believing that this ritual will seal my return ticket to my favorite place on earth.
Fountains are the arteries of Rome. When the water in one isn’t flowing, that part of the city seems lifeless. Fontana di Trevi, when it shows off its cascading waterfalls, attracts throngs of people. I’ve so enjoyed sitting on its edge with my husband, my family, and my friends over the years, faces aglow with the white light bouncing off the façade.
TRAIN TROUBLES
I never thought that a small, white slip of paper could conjure so many memories and so much anxiety. This train ticket is the physical embodiment of one of those travel stories that only seems entertaining after you’ve been home for a while.
After disembarking from a cruise ship in Hong Kong, my husband, two friends, and I had plans to take a train into China to the city of Guangzhou. I had purchased our train tickets before ever leaving home and had researched the best way to get from the cruise port to the train station. It seemed simple: take a shuttle bus. Quick. Easy. Inexpensive. But that doesn’t make for a very good story, now does it?
We wait in line to clear immigration, find the place to purchase bus tickets, and are told to wait around the corner for the bus to arrive. After more than two hours of waiting, we finally board the bus. No need to panic: we still have two hours to go before our train departs, and the train station is only a seven-minute ride away.
We twist and turn through the streets of Hong Kong for over an hour, dropping off other passengers along the way. We had been told the train station was the final stop. As the driver stops in front of an Apple store, he tells us to get off. “Which way is the train station?” I ask. The driver says, “No train station here.” I tell him we paid for transfer to the train station. He belligerently and forcefully tells us to get off the bus. We gather our bags and are left on the sidewalk having no clue where we are.
Still no need to panic. We flag down a taxi and tell the driver to take us to the train station. I even show him the address on my itinerary paper. No problem! Everyone in Hong Kong speaks English, right?
After some time, we arrive…at the airport. What? A misunderstanding, the driver says. He turns around and gets us to the train station at 11:24 a.m. Now is the time to panic. The train is scheduled to leave at 11:27 a.m. From the security line, we watch our train zip out of the station.
At the ticket desk, I ask if there are any other trains going to Guangzhou. There is one leaving in an hour, so we ask for four tickets. Only Hong Kong currency is accepted, and after our feckless bus and taxi rides, we are fresh out of cash. My friend and I skip over to an ATM where both of our cards are rejected. We dash down the street to a currency exchange, trade in our Yuan, and hurry back to the station where we purchase new tickets. Those little slips of paper were hard earned, but we happily board the train and reach our destination in China.
And that is how we turned a seven-minute bus ride into a four-hour, stressful adventure.
ROYAL YACHT ENGINE ROOM
Nearly everything about the Royal Yacht Britannia is impressive. This floating palace was the Royal residence on the seas which provided Queen Elizabeth and her family a home away from home as they traveled over a million nautical miles.
Since retirement in 1997, the yacht has been permanently berthed in Edinburgh, Scotland. When my husband and I visited, we toured the admiral and crew quarters along with the tearoom, bridge, and the state apartments. Along the way, we wandered through the Sun Room, a cozy wood-paneled space complete with lounge chairs and frilly greenery.
The self-guided tour finished with the most impressive part: the engine room. Yes, I was shocked, too. While looking at the ship map, I had every intention of skipping that room entirely. Why would I want to take a look at some greasy, mechanical menagerie? But, my husband wanted to see it, so we made our way down below deck.
I was stunned. Every inch of the engine room was spotlessly clean. All the pipes and most of the machinery were coated in a gleaming white enamel. And this immaculate shine didn’t just happen after decommissioning. It is reported that The Queen took visitors to show off the engine room while the yacht was in full use: a testament to English engineering and particularity.