A photographer friend invited me out to the McKee Beshers Wildlife Management Area to capture the fields of sunflowers. They're at their peak this weekend and next.
I've been meaning for a long time to join Rena on photo shoots. I love her work, and I knew it would be helpful to see the world through her eyes. And to get some photo tips.
I'd seen her sunflower photos from other years and definitely wanted some of my own. So I met Rena and her friend Amy out at the fields in Poolesville, Maryland. At 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday. We beat the crowds but not the heat.
You know the solo travel world has come into its own when The Washington Post does an entire travel section on it.
One article offers eight tips ensuring a "trip of ease."
Some obvious tips include using common sense when it comes to safety and talking to locals. One you don't hear as often is the recommendation to travel places where the dollar is strong. Agreed.
It's always fun to go somewhere you can live like royalty for very little money, but it's that much more important when you're not sharing expenses.
Meeting a tiny Irish tourist, Inishmoor Island, Ireland
In another of the articles, the writer calls solo travel the "All About Me" trip. "More myselves and Is are venturing out into the world alone," she writes. Good for them!
"Ideal for solo travelers," says the press release from Western River Expeditions about its rafting trips on the Colorado River through Cataract Canyon, Utah. I vouch for that statement.
I had one of the best trips of my life floating on peaceful sections of the river and holding on for dear life through Class III and IV rapids (read: "big"). And camping by the side of the river with new friends who I was happy to spend every minute with.
These are professionally guided rafting trips with all meals and equipment provided. I call them "one-phone call" vacations because you sign up and then let the company do all the work of getting licenses, providing boats and setting out food.
Our guide in Port of Spain, Trinidad, pointed to a concrete lot as we drove past it on the way to our hotel. "That's one of the panyards."
Which explained nothing at all.
It wasn't until a couple of days later I understood. Steelpan is the term for steel drums in Trinidad and Tobago. And panyards are where steelpan band members set up their steel drums and practice.
You do need a whole vacant lot in a city because these are big bands playing big instruments. Bands and instruments that don't fit into your average garage.
Trinidad and Tobago, a two-island republic in the Caribbean, offers much to see and do. Birds. Multi-ethnic foods and festivals. Exotic island fruits and vegetables. Crab races.
We did not see crab races. Crab races don't happen every day. Nor do the goat races.
We did motor by boat through the mangroves of Caroni Swamp. The swamp opened on a lake surrounded by trees that are home to thousands of scarlet ibis, the national bird. What a wonder that was, watching hundreds of big, scarlet-red birds fly overhead at sunset to roost for the night.
We tasted goat roti, bake and shark, callaloo. Wait, you don't know what callaloo is? It's a soup. Or maybe it's a sauce. Made from the young curled leaves of the dasheen bush. Got it?
In this country composed mainly of people of African and East Indian descent–but with Spanish, French, British, Dutch, Chinese and many more influences–there were many new dishes to try.
And the island's brand of Caribbean rum. Two kinds recommended to me: Angostura 1924 and Angostura 1919. We tasted one of those rums mixed with LLB – a lemon-lime soda with bitters–yes, Angostura bitters. Because, you guessed it: The Angostura company is based in Trinidad.
But back to steelpan.
Many people know Trinidad for its over-the-top Carnival celebration with crazy complex costumes and street partying. There's a months-long windup to the event.
As part of Carnival, there's a steelpan competition among about 160 bands. Called Panorama. I'm told the competition is as fierce as any sports tournament.
Bands are gearing up now. I watched as the "pannists" of the Caribbean Airlines Invaders pounded the concave interior of pans of various sizes. Some made from the whole oil drum. Others a fifth the depth.
It was a sight to see. And hear. Maybe they'll win it all in 2017. And I can say I knew them when.
Photos and video by Ellen Perlman: 1. cocoa pods in Tobago 2. scarlet ibis at sunset (will ask for zoom lens for my birthday 3. The Caribbean Airlines Invaders practicing for the big time
So this is how I found myself living luxuriously, swimming laps in a pool facing the mountains in rural Spain, alongside a new friend from Australia.
I've been studying Spanish for about five years now and love to practice any chance I get. In a somewhat confused moment, I decided to go to Spain to spend a week conversing in English only.
The Deal:
The deal was this. I would stay in a private room, with jacuzzi tub, in a four-star hotel in Barco de Avila outside Madrid. With three meals a day provided, at the aforementioned four-star hotel. All for free. Just for being willing to speak in English with Spanish people all day.
I happen to be very good at speaking English. This seemed like a very, very fair deal. No, a great deal! Off I went. Never even thought to contact friends to see if they wanted to go. They'd just get in the way.
The company:
A company called Vaughantown "hires" English speakers to spend a week at one of several locations where Spanish students and businessmen go to improve their English skills.
We create an English cocoon where the Spaniards can safely try out their faltering "Please pass the salt's" and "I work in the telecommunications industry's" on us without the stress of a real business encounter. Their companies pay for the privilege. We live off the fat of their expense accounts.
The week I went there were 17 Spaniards and 17 "Anglos," a mix of Americans (only three), Aussies, Brits and Canadians. The best part was that I got to spend a week getting to know Spanish people I would never have talked to any other way.
I've written about Hershey way more times than I need to count. Somehow I keep ending back there! Each trip has been fun…and different. Including a falconry experience.
This time, I started at the spa in The Hotel Hershey. In the parking lot, I could see the roller coasters of the nearby amusement park and Chocolate World in the distance. But those were two places I bypassed all weekend.
It's not often one gets to experience a volcano. But there I was in Ecuador, a decade or so ago, watching a plume of what looked like smoke–but had to be ash–spewing from Tungurahua, translated as throat of fire.
In Riobamba and other towns nearby, people were constantly sweeping a film of gray off steps, sidewalks, the front of churches. More ash kept settling down.
Obviously, volcanoes can be dangerous but it was far in the distance and an adrenaline rush to witness. Seems Tungurahua, located along Ecuador's Avenue of the Volcanoes has been showing a lot of activity again these days.
You can take that one of two ways, depending on your personal risk meter. Either it's hey, time for me to go see an active volcano for myself-from a safe distance, course. Or heck no, I'm staying away until things settle down-which way to the Galapagos?
Green and white awnings and a small sign are all that distinguish the Richmond home of Maggie L. Walker from neighboring duplexes that have been carefully restored to their appearance circa 1925. What distinguished Walker in her day was her skill at overcoming all the obstacles society could place before a black woman living under Jim Crow segregation laws.
But wait. Maggie who?
Maggie Lena Walker, the daughter of a former slave, was a black entrepreneur and civil rights activist who achieved business success at about the same time as the more well-known Vanderbilts, Carnegies and other Northern captains of industry were making their names. She was a respected resident of Richmond’s Jackson Ward neighborhood during the early 20th century, when the area was experiencing its heyday.
Yes, Virginia, there is a side of Richmond known as the cradle of black capitalism, despite the fact that just a few decades earlier, during the Civil War, the city had served as the capital of the Confederacy.
If you're going to get stuck somewhere in a blizzard, make it a ski resort, is what I always say.
Actually, I'd never said that before this past weekend. But then, as serendipity would have it, I got "stuck" at a ski resort during a blizzard. Oh, poor me.
All I could do at Canaan Valley Resort in West Virginia was ski–Nordic and alpine–snowboard, ice skate, use the whirlpool and head for the lodge's dining room for meals.
I wasn't able to shovel, figure out what to do if I lost power, experience cabin fever or stare at empty supermarket shelves.
Instead, I skied "first tracks" for the first time in my life. Got on a chair lift a little after 8 a.m. and before anyone else that day I skied pristine powder, along with a ski instructor and one other person.
We had a run called Timber Trail to ourselves. Wheeee.
First things first regarding driving yourself around Italy. If you want to ask a non-English-speaking Italian where the downtown is, you're going to have to pronounce "città centro" (city center) as:
chee-TAH CHEN-tro
I figured that pronunciation out, oh, about a thousand quizzical looks too late.
I thought driving in Italy on my own would be a huge step up from public transportation.I didn't quite realize the challenge.It started on day one whenI got off the highway and had to stop at an unmanned toll booth, count up Euros and toss my handful of change into a basket so the gate would open.
Then I had to figure out parking and driving rules.
For the record, parking within the blue lines – good. Driving in the bus lane – bad. (I didn't know I was in a bus lane! I swear!)
Getting to the cities from Serramazzoni, where I was staying with a friend, was relatively easy. I followed the handy signs sporting concentric circles, indicating the way to the town "centro."
A photographer friend invited me out to the McKee Beshers Wildlife Management Area to capture the fields of sunflowers. They're at their peak this weekend and next. 
Boldly Go Solo 