Another World

I have lived in Midwestern cities for more than 35 of my 50+ years, and our 20-something daughters grew up in the Kansas City area. As college approached, both girls chose out-of-state schools. Our 'Arizona daughter' moved to a whole other world of climate and vegetation.

I first saw palm trees in our suburban neighborhood outside of Oakland, California, during elementary school. I loved their whispery voices, when breezes rustled the lush palm fronds. But all too soon, we moved back to a more temperate climate, far from palm fronds and ocean breezes.

Palm trees of all shapes and sizes greeted me, my siblings, and my parents in Orlando, when we attended the grand opening of Disney World. I hungrily drank in images of the tropical greenery and stored them for retrieval during gray Pittsburgh days.

At 10 a.m. on my 21^st birthday, I arrived in Ft. Lauderdale from snowbound Ohio, with six friends, anticipating a week of sun and fun. My jaw dropped as we drove along a wide boulevard lined for many blocks by the tallest palms I had ever seen. It remains my most vivid memory of a memorable trip.

Thirty years later, at Arizona State, I found another ‘boulevard’ lined with stories-high palms that rustled in the slightest breeze and bowed before strong winds. This time, they flanked a wide sidewalk that bisected the campus and overshadowed my daughter as she walked to classes. And I envied her, a bit, for living in this tropical paradise.

Christopher Elbow's Chocolate Heaven

At Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolates, in Kansas City, Mo., Elbow and his staff of three create and store 10,000 to 12,000 handmade chocolates per average week. Between November and Valentine’s day, they churn out 30,000 to 40,000 pieces each week.

There are Belgian-style chocolates –with molded exteriors, a thick shell and soft fillings; and French-style, with a thin, delicate chocolate shell formed when a ‘curtain’ of chocolate pours over flavored fillings. Dark chocolate pairs with French lavender and black tea combines with citrus.

The chocolates are gorgeous too. Architectural and design magazines and individual artists inspire Elbow’s designs. Sprays of white cocoa butter splattered across Tahitian vanilla enrobed chocolates mimic Jackson Pollack’s painting style.

Everyone has specific jobs to do. J.K. cleanly cuts large slabs of ganache with a ‘guitar’ slicer and then quickly arranges it on cooling trays so her hands do not melt the chocolate. Steven paints bon bon molds with finger strokes of colored liquid cocoa butter.

Ethan fills boxes with chocolates and flavor diagrams. As 60 confections emerge from the French enrobing machine onto chilled fillings, every 90 seconds, Elbow transfers pre-printed ‘pages’ of repeating cocoa butter patterns onto the finished tray. They repeat each process dozens of times every day and I marvel at their consistency.

After I say good-bye, the scent of fine chocolate lingers on my clothes for hours.

Hidden Beauty

Early afternoon sun beats down on the familiar winding, narrow streets and warm, adobe buildings of Santa Fe. At every turn a graceful archway, turquoise window frame, or rough-hewn vigas (roof beams that extend beyond the outer edge of buildings) draw my eye. An outdoor market that occupies one street corner overflows with decorative strings and wreaths of chilies, imported kilim rugs, hand-painted ceramic tiles, and heat-infused gourmet foods.

I wander into a crowded store and discover it is the basement of another I have visited during each of five previous trips to the City Different. An indoor ‘mall’ set inside an antique, multi-level adobe structure seems smaller and less attractive than before. I commit street names and junctures to memory, in preparation for future trips.

A series of balconies that surround a quiet courtyard beckon my camera. While standing on one of the tiny overlooks I scan for the perfect shot, but no angle or view seems quite right. Dejected, I prepare to put the camera away. Suddenly the perfect silhouette appears immediately before me – and that single image perfectly summarizes everything I love about this magical city.

Ojo's Healing Waters

One copper circle inside another decorates a gushing stone-faced fountain at the entrance to Ojo Caliente Mineral Springs, in rural northern New Mexico. Ojo offers a unique collection of four geothermal mineral springs in a single location. The logo represents this ‘hot eye,’ as it mirrors a petroglyph found in nearby ruins.

From 8 a.m. to 10 p.m., guests enjoy high desert beauty as they escape from the rat race and to the quiet, natural world that is Ojo. Cell phones don’t work here, so birds flying overhead, flowing and lapping water and muted conversation provide a gentle sound track.

Bathe in the 105-degree arsenic pool to heal a variety of skin conditions and decrease arthritis and stomach ulcers. At 109 degrees, the iron pool improves blood flow. A dip in the steamy, enclosed, soda pool improves your digestion, while a cup of 104-degree water from the Lithia spring improves digestion and boosts your mood.

Guests also may reserve a private outdoor mineral pool. After dark, each one becomes a grotto with an otherworldly quality. Brilliant stars sprinkle across the deep black sky and a blazing piñon-wood fire burns in the small adobe fireplace. Back-lit cliffs send shimmers across the water. Dash through the chilly night air, feed the blaze, and return to enveloping warmth.

10,000 Balloons

A sea of people already fills seats throughout the basketball stadium, half an hour before the ceremony begins. Shades of maroon and gold mark sections filled with new graduates, as their loved ones create a cacophony of color and style nearby. Each person wonders where four, or five, or six years of study has gone - how it has come to an end in the blink of an eye.

Thousands of balloons shift in a secure net, high above the crowd, awaiting the final congratulatory comment and student processional into the ‘real world.’ Large video screens spring to life, as Arizona State University’s president introduces esteemed colleagues and guests that share the stage. We gaze at Jessica, whose fuchsia floral lei makes it easier to find her amidst the throngs, hold each other’s hand for a moment and grin, before returning our attention to the festivities.

Two hours pass with amazing speed, despite the 6,000+ graduates on the floor. After the speeches, masters and doctoral candidates, and a handful of distinguished undergraduates cross the stage to receive their diplomas. The president then congratulates students from each department of study within the university, and they stand together as they celebrate ends and beginnings.

A maroon and gold cloud rains down on the graduates as the overhead net drops. The crowd disperses into scorching heat, hundreds of hugs, and a flurry of photographs.

Ancient Dwellings

Sheer talus cliffs, pock-marked by hundreds of caves, rise majestically before us as morning heat builds. We follow a narrow path that winds like a serpent’s tale between natural curves of low rock walls and ancient cave dwellings, at times with barely enough space to walk through. Strangely shaped rock outcroppings thrust themselves upward at varying intervals.

Reconstructed talus homes cling to canyons and mesas all around us. Smoke smudges from fires used for cooking and heat half a millennium ago still color the walls and ceilings of some caves, while primitive petroglyphs adorn others. The girls scurry up a 10- to 12-foot long wooden pole ladder and enter a wide cave that could easily seat a dozen people. They mug for a photo as they back down the ladder.

This is Bandelier National Monument, located 48 miles northwest of Santa Fe. The Anasazi people inhabited this area from approximately 1000 AD to 1500 AD, and their ancestors reportedly still live in the present-day pueblos of San Ildefonso and Cochiti.

Cochiti residents guided anthropologist-historian, Adolph F.A. Bandelier, here in 1880. In 1916 archaeologist Edgar L. Hewett helped establish the monument. Now part of the National Park Service, Bandelier includes 32,737 acres and 70 miles of trails. Vehicles may travel on only three miles of public roadway and wheelchair access is limited.

Stomachs growling, we wind our way downward along the narrow rock walkways, heading for air-conditioning, new adobe and lunch.

Chicago's Fairest Wheel

A dozen cousins’ shoes and sandals lie in a jumbled mass on the warm sidewalk as we sunbathe beside the sparkling expanse of Lake Michigan. Its time for a break from our walk along the congested, bustling Navy Pier.

An enormous, 150-foot Ferris wheel lifts upwards of 200 riders through steamy August heat and high above the crowds, with a clear view of Chicago’s John Hancock building and surrounding business towers. For the kids, though, it’s the novelty of flying without a plane and watching family members on the ground shrink to the size of ants.

Younger children in our group rush the musical carousel, scramble aboard and pick out the perfect animal on which to sit; each horse or frog or one of several dozen other creatures hand painted to resemble the carousels their grandparents rode as children. The ride slows and children beg for snacks.

A hundred conversations and the smell of popcorn fill the air as we jostle through crowds on the way to purchase plump, juicy, Chicago hot dogs and tart, frosty lemonade. We finally escape the din and board a Shoreline Sightseeing boat. A welcome breeze takes the edge off summer heat as the engine roars to full throttle and the skyline shrinks behind us.