Some people love mushrooms and hunt for them in field and forest. Others are content to pick up a shrink-wrapped package or plunk down dear sums at the farmers market. And then there are those who don't like them at all and have silently suffered through stuffed-cap appetizers and cream-of soups. Either the idea of eating fungus is off-putting, or they just can't shake the memories of rubbery, canned slices.
The mammoth predator is lured from the abyss by the scent of blood and looms larger with every fathom it covers. My heart races as I turn this way and that, sucking air through a hose, peering through a mask, intently following its progress.
''Most of what follows is true.'' That's the opening of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the 1969 movie about two bandits born as the sun was setting on the old Wild West.
When airlines deny you a seat you've reserved because they've oversold the flight, they typically offer you a voucher for the inconvenience. But there are two things you need to know: Under U.S. Department of Transportation rules, you are entitled to insist on money instead, and as of May 19, airlines must pay you up to twice as much as the DOT previously required.
Question: Some friends and I are planning to tour the old Route 66 from Chicago to Santa Monica, but I was told that a portion of that road is somewhat depressing. What can I expect?
Montreal may sound like Paris, but it tastes like poutines. A mess of french fries, gravy and cheese curds, this signature dish of French-speaking Canada's largest city captures its engaging and independent culinary personality.
A line from a poem by Carl Sandburg pops into my head one morning as I cut through Bryant Park in midtown Manhattan, its newly planted carpet of lush sod taking root.
Here's a promise from Northwest Airlines Chief Executive Doug Steenland to customers about the planned merger with Delta Air Lines: ``It's going to be business as usual or better.''
The winemakers of Beaujolais are not happy. That seems odd, considering they live in some of France's most beautiful villages, where old stone houses are decked with flowers amid hillside vineyards, a half-day's drive south of Paris.
You could call Jim and Peggy Lowman ``opera tourists.'' Longtime season ticket holders to the Atlanta Opera, the DeKalb County couple also take one or two trips a year to see opera in such cities as Berlin and Prague. In March, they went to New York to see four Metropolitan Opera productions, including the critically acclaimed but famously ill-fated Tristan und Isolde, which was plagued by its stars' illnesses.
Online photo albums I had prepared for family and friends weren't capturing the essence of my travels to the southern reaches of the world. Then a light bulb clicked as I was exploring Google Earth: Why not use that?
The late July storm broke over the valley like a wave over the prow of a ship. Hikers, emerging from the forest, dashed across stretches of lawn as lightning cut across the darkening sky. Couples in canoes awkwardly zigzagged their way toward the dock as thunder rumbled overhead.
A magazine for animal-lovers is honoring New York, Continental Airlines, a hotel in Austin, Texas, and a resort in Arizona with pet travel awards.
''Just watch out for kangaroos,'' the car-hire agent at Kangaroo Island's one-room airport kept saying. ''They can really do some damage. They'll hop right at you in the road.'' Whoopee, I thought. Exactly what I'd wanted.
Drivers have long known that slowing down on the highway means getting more miles to the gallon. Now airlines are trying it, too -- adding a few minutes to flights to save millions on fuel.
Those plump little cherubs smiling rapturously from the depths of dark Baroque paintings have reason to be happy, I thought as I listened to tour guide Niall Stewart expound on 'the angels' share,'' a term used to describe the amount of Irish whiskey that evaporates daily while aging in casks.
Bustling textile and furniture factories that used to churn out blankets and beds have moved out of southwest Virginia, taking jobs overseas.
The Rio Bravo makes a big, lazy turn through the cornfields, half its channel in Mexico, half in the United States. At the bend, the wind picks up speed and whips through the ebony trees, trees so hard and strong that their wood resembles polished stone.
MUIR WOODS NATIONAL MONUMENT, Calif. -- It takes a moment for the realization to sink in: We are 12 miles from San Francisco -- one of the busiest, most bustling, loudest cities -- yet I can't hear a sound.
Question: In Spain, tourists get to savor delicious Serrano ham practically anywhere but are cautioned that our Department of Agriculture minions will seize the product if we attempt to bring it into this country. Is this true? Why?
