Advertising is all around us. It creeps into our subconscious without us even realizing — at least that’s the case with the cleverest of campaigns.  Branding images surround us at all times — on billboards when we’re driving, at the ball game, at movie theaters and even at bars (all those strategically placed signs for certain brands of beer!).

In tough economic times, ad budgets are usually one of the first items to be reduced or completely cut.  I find this unfortunate and not always in the best interests of a company.  When people are spending less money, it is critical to ensure when consumers are actually buying, they are buying your product. Advertising keeps products at the forefront of the consumer mind.

Of course, the trick is making sure consumers remember exactly what product they saw in the ad. I can think of two campaigns that make me remember the product — the HSBC Your Point of View ads (seen in airports around the world) and the Snickers campaign (seen all over the country).

The HSBC ad is usually the first thing I see when boarding and disembarking airplanes. The ads are on the walls of many jet bridges. It is usually two images, such as a high-heel shoe and a hot pepper. “Pleasure” would be written all over the shoe; “pain” all over the pepper. The next ad is the same two images, with the wording reversed.  I do not yet have an HSBC account, but when the time comes for me to look into new banking options, HSBC will be the top of my list to research.

The Snickers campaign is currently running on top of taxis in NYC. They are clever — characteristics of the Snickers bar are manipulated into words familiar to New York. For example, “Nougataboutit” or “Take a tour around Nougat York”. Every time I see them I laugh, and when I go into the convenience store craving chocolate, I am more inclined to buy a Snickers bar.

What is your favorite ad?

–Alex Young, vice president and associate publisher

For the first time in two weeks, we had a glorious Saturday. After so much rain, I thought I would never see the sun!

I played golf this Saturday at Jericho National, Global Traveler’s home course in Bucks County.  Joining me in the foursome was Laurence Henry (GT legal consultant), Gerald Patrick (part of our regular golf entourage) and John Ecklund (contributor to GTee, our monthly golf roundup in Global Traveler).  I had not played golf with John since his review of the River Club in the May 2009 GTee.

Due to all the heavy rains during the week, the course played cart paths only for the carts, so we were zigzagging every fairway with several clubs in hand to determine our shots.  The rain helped the fescue grass — a Jericho trademark — grow thick and lush.  Only four weeks ago landing your ball in this fescue was not much of a penalty, as you could easily make a clean shot.  Now you would be lucky to find your ball or would be forced to chip it back into play.

All in all, it was a magnificent day for GT players and associates at Jericho!

-Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO

Several years ago, on our first cruise in the Mediterranean, my sisters and I chose to visit Pompeii when our ship docked in Naples. This time, we decided a day trip to Capri, 17 miles from our port, was in order. Our early rapid ferry brought us in about an hour to Marina Grande, Capri’s main port. From the pier there our gaze traveled up the rugged cliffs, dotted with large homes and buildings, wreathed with impossible-looking roadways cantilevered out from their vertical faces and capped with wisps of cloud. Capri (pronounced, we were firmly informed by our guide, as CAP-ree, not cu-PREE) has long been a magnet for the rich and powerful, from Roman emperors to the latest jet set, but its beauty certainly appeals to anyone with an appreciation for those rugged rock walls rising from the sea and the lush vegetation that grows wherever it may. 

We boarded small tour buses (the large standard-sized ones could never negotiate the winding roads and switchbacks here) and wound our way up to the town of Capri and then beyond it upwards towards Anacapri. Because flat land is at such a premium on this small, steep island, all available space is carefully used, but we noted as we climbed higher that a particularly large area along the sea was devoted to a clearly necessary soccer pitch. I “enjoyed” an especially thrilling view from my window seat on the seaward side of the bus as we trundled along that precariously positioned roadway we’d spotted earlier from below. I risked a peek over the side and  found that nothing — not a rock or a tree or even a scrawny bush — interrupted my view to the sea crashing over the rocks far below. Thankfully, we eventually arrived at the square in Anacapri and took the advice of Sasha, our charming guide, and forsook a tour of a local museum and queued up instead for a rather antiquated chair lift ride up to the 2,000-foot top of the island: Monte Solaro.

Almost as soon as my chair lifted me off the platform, I was gliding along peacefully above the terraced gardens and overgrown hillsides below me. The only sounds that accompanied me were the chirping of very happy-sounding songbirds and the occasionally squeaking of the lift’s pulleys, punctuated once by the tolling of church bells from somewhere below. Under my feet grapevines and tomato plants underplanted with basil and squash, eggplant and beans spread across rock-walled terraces, and the scent of wild flowers drifted up: honeysuckle and Scotch broom, rock rose and hardy geraniums. Some fifteen minutes later, the cable steepened as we reached our final ascent. Ahead shreds and banners of fog  swirled and dissipated and reformed amid the pinnacles of rock. I later learned that another name for Monte Solaro is Acchiappanuvole — “cloud catcher” — an utterly perfect label for this magical place.

We spent a good half hour or so wandering from one vantage point to another atop this rocky crag, momentarily enveloped in fog until breezes shifted the gauzy layer and we were suddenly looking far down to the sea below, watching as the gulls swooped and glided below us along the cliffs. The colors of the sea around the rocks below shifted as the sunlight encountered the clouds and then broke out strongly to sparkle on the waves again. It was so quiet up there; all I wanted to do was just sit back and absorb the sights and the sun and the scents and the peace. That would have to wait for a return trip, however, and I reluctantly caught my seat for the ride back down the mountain.

Later that afternoon we were given some free time in Capri to use as we wished. Some sought the high-end shops of the Via Camerelle — Capri’s so-called “Rodeo Drive,” but Julie and I decided to simply stroll some of the narrow alleys and passageways where a cool breeze took the edge off a hot afternoon. Quite by accident we came upon a primary school just as its students were dismissed for the day. Boys and girls tumbled out the door dragging Hannah Montana lunchboxes and High School Musical backpacks and wearing t-shirts bearing other entertainment icons any child in America would instantly recognize. They were greeted by mothers who had been waiting nearby. We trailed the group back toward the main square, watching as the kids quickly handed off their gear to their moms so that, unencumbered, they could run ahead, laughing and joking and free of school for the day. The mamas trailed along behind, no doubt enjoying a little more time to gossip with each other before having to prepare the evening meal at home. We had to smile at a scene that could just as easily have been observed outside any school in our towns back home, and one which both of us had certainly been a part of when our children were younger. It was a powerful yet gentle reminder of how similar to each other we all are, no matter where in the world we are. What a nice way to end a lovely day in such an enchanting place!

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

Over the last two-plus weeks, I have been taking care of my younger daughter here in Chicago, where she attends Loyola University, as she recovers from foot surgery. She cannot put any weight on the foot for at least another week, so she must use crutches and wear a cumbersome but protective “boot” whenever she wants to get about. Jenny has discovered such a means of locomotion is exhausting, difficult and at times precarious, so we have limited our travels beyond her apartment only to necessary visits to the doctor. It has been an eye-opening experience for me to see just how challenging, even in this era of mandated “handicapped-access” public facilities, traveling about a city can be for those with limited mobility.

For our first visit down to The Loop in the heart of downtown Chicago, we took the CTA Red Line. Fortunately, the el stop is just a long block away from Jenny’s place, and it has an elevator rising from street level to the platform. Of course, when you’re on crutches, “just” a block is still a long way to go, and the uneven surface of the platform next to the drop to the rails can be daunting. Once on the train, Jenny found a way to get her foot propped up on the seat next to her after maneuvering around the grab rails. When I glanced up to check our progress on the route map, I noticed for the first time that there were only three stations designated as handicap-accessible between our stop at the northern end of the Red Line and our departure point at least 15 stations south at Jackson Ave. This meant there were only three places where someone in a wheelchair could access this particular branch of the public transit system. At other stations one might find escalators (which Jenny found she could manage, but not without a little fear in both our hearts!). Otherwise, one must be able to negotiate long flights of steep, narrow stairs.

On that particular excursion we decided to take a taxi for our trip home, a wise decision due to the heat and Jenny’s rapidly waning strength — despite the $25 tab. Our second trip downtown a week later was slightly easier because we at least knew where the difficulties lay and how to pace ourselves. That time we took a bus back north. I do have to note that virtually everywhere we went people were very kind in holding doors open, making room on the nearest bench or seat and offering Jenny encouragement and wishes for a quick recovery. The bus driver lowered the boarding ramp so it was easier for Jen to climb on and off the vehicle, and cabbies were quick to pull over and assist us in getting her in and out of the car.

Our lengthiest and most challenging trip yet occurred yesterday, when we ventured out to LaGrange Park in the suburbs west of Chicago for a weekend visit with married daughter Sarah. Slightly cooler temperatures, lower humidity and a nice breeze made the first part of the journey easier than the previous two (and Jenny’s arm muscles have certainly gotten stronger!). We even managed a stop at a Garrett’s Popcorn Shop (I can’t visit Chicago without at least one visit there) between hopping off the el and grabbing a cab to Union Station. Once at the station, it was a long and harrowing slog down two escalators, up and down corridors and ramps to the track which would take us on a Metra train to LaGrange. We arrived at a crowded bench just opposite the entrance to the track with a good half hour to spare before departure. Here we confronted the first instance in three weeks of inconsiderate behavior: two obviously young and healthy women firmly kept their seats, even after two grandmotherly ladies next to them jumped up to offer their places to Jenny when it was clear the younger ones weren’t going to budge (and there were a few “gentlemen” who didn’t seem to be at all infirm that were much slower to move than the two gracious ladies, too).  Criminey!

We made it on and off the train without too much more difficulty and again with some courteous help from other travelers and Metra employees. These experiences have made me much more aware and sensitive to the difficulties and hardships a physically challenged traveler must endure. I am committed to being more conscious of such folks when I am out and about in the future and offering them a helping hand whenever and however I can.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

Is next weekend really the Fourth of July? Already?!? What happened to June? What happened to summer? Independence Day usually feels like a mid-summer celebration. We had all of June to enjoy the warmer weather and longer nights. Summer peaks post-July 4th, and the holiday is the perfect way to welcome the onslaught of true summer.

But 2009 is a whole different story! Of course, I can only speak for Pennsylvania (and I think I can echo the sentiments of most Northeasterners), but what is with the weather? Sometimes it doesn’t feel like we are even in the month of March or April, certainly not June. What are supposed to be warm, sunny days have instead been rainy, cloudy and dreary days.  What gives?

Hopefully, the forecasts for 80-degree, sunny days are a sign of good things to come for the remainder of “summer.” Looking ahead at the 10-day, we have four days of possible thunderstorms, but the rest of the days promise to be cheerier. While it is not my favorite season, I am ready for some nice weather. I am sick of constant rain.  And, as if the rain were not bad enough, the humidity is killer. There is nothing worse than walking outside into the pouring rain and being hot and soaked with rain water. And some of the thunderstorms recently have been intense — pounding rain hitting my house like I have never heard before in my life.

The forecast for July 4 (I know, I know — it’s 10 days away, but I am looking forward to it) is promising: morning clouds, sun in the afternoon and highs around 82. I say cheers to America and cheers to summer! (Let’s hope next week’s forecast does not change the predictions!)

–Kim Krol, eFlyer editor, circulation and PR executive