Rich Memories of an Unforgettable Travel Year

With each new year, I count my travel blessings--feeling fortunate to have seen so much of the world, yet ever curious about the rest.

From 1991, I treasure memories of brisk spring walks through shiny, clean Toronto, with its multinational eateries and rich museums and theaters. I smile at the images of Lake Champlain, flashing through barren branches as our train sped from Montreal to New York.

In early May, I reveled in the re-emergence of the charm and history of Singapore, that tropical island-nation that seemed all hard-nosed business just a decade ago. The preservation of old neighborhoods--Chinatown, Little India, old Malay blocks, the Arab quarter--has added a low-rise, pastel glow to the landscape of modern towers. My favorite irony: Tourists missed the wild and noisy scene of Bugis Street, which was torn down to make room for the new subway system. So the efficient Singapore government is now rebuilding the best of Bugis Street a few blocks away.

The tastiest food of the year was definitely in Singapore . . . or Hong Kong or Bangkok. If I could repeat only one meal, it would be the spicy Thai dinner at Benjarong restaurant in Bangkok’s Dusit Thani Hotel.

In September, I visited the American West in Montana and Wyoming, and was reminded with a vengeance that the warm-hearted, iron-willed people of those regions kindle their homes and lives with hospitality. It was that sunny shoulder season of Labor Day weekend, when the skies are so clear it seems impossible that snow may fall with the night.

In the green and river-laced land of southwest Oregon, I explored the newly dedicated Back Country Byway that winds over tall tree mountains between Grave Creek and the former mining town of Marial on the way to the Pacific. No towns, no traffic along this gravel road high above the Rogue River. Just redwood groves, waterfalls and unmarked picnic glades, ringed with pink rhododendron.

Oregon has pioneered in these wilderness byways, established and mapped by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management. Throughout the state, travelers can follow 750 miles of roads that ramble through old-growth forests, volcanic and glacial formations, even high-desert country that is reminiscent of the plains of Southern Africa, complete with exotic birds. Some byways are passable all year; some just in summertime.

My warm-weather stint was in the Bahamas. It was my first visit. I remember the view from the air of that scattering of pan-flat islands--700 of them, sparsely inhabited, afloat in a shallow turquoise stretch of Atlantic. And the good-natured banter of the Bahamians. And the tasty conch chowder. And the faded elegance of old Nassau mansions, their sidewalks ripped by the mighty roots of banyan trees. The easy sounds of music--constant singing and humming--marked that land for me, more than the jingle of casinos. Next time I vow to travel beyond Nassau and explore some of the Family Islands, starting with Harbour. Maybe I’ll go by mail boat.

The biggest shock of the year was in Arizona, on a drive through Gila Bend. Every year I have watched businesses board up along the main street. Every year, when I would get hungry or thirsty amid the surrounding badlands, my companions would promise a break at the McDonald’s in Gila Bend.

That was the family joke. There was no McDonald’s in Gila Bend--although sometimes the small Dairy Queen was open.

But in 1991, looming on the western edge of town, were golden arches and a festive playground. I thought it was a mirage until I stepped into the air-conditioned building and ordered a Quarter Pounder from a smiling young woman at the counter.

“We employ 80 people,” she told me. “All from Gila Bend. The local people don’t eat here too much, but we sure get the travelers. This is the crossroads, you know. Everybody comes by going to or from California. And to Rocky Point--that’s Puerto Penasco--in Mexico. McDonald’s even put a billboard up on the Interstate.

“Yeah,” she mused, as she rang up my order. “We’re probably the biggest employer in town. Although the highway patrol and the sheriff’s department hire quite a few.”

Slowing down for a Big Mac may even cut into the legendary speed-trap tickets of Gila Bend, which could amount to another travel blessing.