My globe-trotting daughter’s overseas travels will soon be coming to an end. She has finished up her month-long community health nursing studies in England and will be flying back to Chicago this coming Wednesday. She’s had a thoroughly marvelous time and says she will really miss lovely England and all of the other places she has visited. Clearly the travel bug has bit hard, and neither of us is unhappy about that at all. Fortunately, aided by plenty of planning and preparation and a slew of good advice from others who were familiar with the cities on her itinerary, she met with few bumps in the road or unexpected difficulties along the way.

Since this journey was first planned, the final leg, after the studies in chilly England were complete, was to be a long weekend in Greece, primarily in Santorini. Jenny and her friends decided that rather than spend time in another big city, they would only stop over for a night in Athens on either side of some island time. The idea of warm days (at least, comparatively warm) spent at a relaxed pace after all the rush and bustle of the rest of the trip has been a bright beacon for the last several months.

So it is with some trepidation and more than a little interest that I’ve been watching the news of financial crisis and strikes in Greece over the last several weeks. Jenny has had little desire or opportunity to closely follow the news while abroad, but I didn’t burden her with constant updates about what I was hearing concerning her final stop. I did give her a brief heads up a few weeks ago when the stories of the first batch of strikes cropped up. I purposely kept my remarks low-key; I saw no need to make her anxious and figured if something of the events in Greece filtered through to her, better that it come from me. I didn’t want to scare her or her friends off of their plans; the situation doesn’t seem dangerous to them, and the last thing the Greek economy needs is tourists and their money staying away.

This past Wednesday saw the largest demonstrations (mostly peaceful) yet in Athens, with civil servants protesting the government’s austerity plans aimed at fixing the debt crisis and proving to the European Union that it can get the economy under control. In addition, strikes grounded flights, stopped ferry service and affected public transportation in Athens. I let Jenny know all of this, since they were to fly to Athens, take the metro to Piraeus where they would then catch a ferry to Santorini. I told her that I doubted more strikes would follow so quickly on the heels of this one-day event. I was glad to hear that she was not overly concerned, even if her travel plans might be affected along the way. She seems to have acquired enough travel savvy and confidence that the recent events in Greece will not faze her or deter her from her plans.

From what I can tell from a few brief lines on Jenny’s Facebook page, so far everything has gone as planned. Santorini is “gorgeous” and time at the beach is on the schedule for today. I’m so thankful my little girl has had such a fantastic and horizon-expanding trip. Even if she should meet with a few unexpected surprises on her way home, she’ll be able to add them to her list of events that have helped her evolve into an experienced global traveler.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader

On a recent trip to New York City, my husband and I took the train from New Haven’s Union Station. On our way out of Grand Central Station, we passed a bakery, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread stopped me in my tracks. “On the way back,” my husband promised. “We’ll get bread to bring home.” He was right. We were headed to the Andaz Wall Street for the GT Tested Awards and a two-night stay. What was I going to do with a bag full of bread?

The hotel was fabulous, the event even more so. And, true to his word, on our return trip, my husband steered us straight to Grand Central Market, a long arcade of food stalls on the ground floor of the terminal, with access to the street at one end. Featuring everything from Greenwich Produce to Penzeys Spices, from Murray’s Cheese to Pescatore Seafood, it is a foodie’s paradise. But it was bread I was after, and bread I found at Zaro’s Bread Basket. There was such a large selection, I couldn’t make up my mind; and with our luggage getting in everyone’s way, I had to decide fast. We ended up with a bag full of ciabatta and other crusty creations to take home and a couple of focaccio loaves, loaded with delicious toppings, for the train.

It’s hard to get a good loaf of bread in our part of Connecticut. There are few bakeries to begin with, even fewer that bake their own bread, and fewer still that bake really good, crusty bread.

My passion for bread goes way back. In the 1980s, after a week in Paris with a friend, dining on fresh baguette morning, noon and night, I bemoaned the dismal lack of good bread at home. Enduring one too many complaints about “this doughy American stuff,” my husband had had enough: “Then learn to make your own!” And so I did, and I’ve been baking baguettes ever since.

Some of the finest souvenirs I have brought home from my travels are not the usual tchotchkes. Sure, I’ve carted my share of china cups and coffee mugs, original watercolors by local artists and Gustav Klimt prints from Vienna. I’ve stuffed my suitcase with fine woolens from Ireland and Iceland, and lugged back a huge pottery half-moon from the Caribbean. Each year my Christmas tree is adorned with ornaments from around the world — Delftware from Dutch St. Maarten, bright red wooden lobsters from Maine, Bermudian bobbies, Tyrolean jumping jacks. I even schlepped a cuckoo clock halfway through Europe on a backpacking trip when I was 20. And some items have inspired whole collections, as with our Wayang Golek (Java puppets), which we accumulated over many years of traveling through the Caribbean.

But fabric fades. China chips and cracks. It is the more intangible things that stay with me. Like learning to bake baguette, I seem to collect new abilities wherever I go, new traditions to incorporate into my life that remind me of where I’ve been.

In Germany, one taste of Schwarzwalder-Kirsch-Torte (Black Forest cake) and I had to possess its lush chocolate-and-cream secrets. I found a recipe and practiced making it — even impressing my father-in-law with a torte for his birthday one year.

Other locations have led to other additions to my culinary repertoire: Johnny cakes and plantains as they are served in the lolos of Grand Case, St. Martin; Irish scones, brown bread and potato soup; dim sum inspired by a trip to San Francisco’s Chinatown.

But musical fare can have the same effect as food. On a visit to Doolin, the traditional music capital of Ireland, I was so taken by the local music that I needed to possess it myself and bought two tin whistles — I have learned three songs in three years — and if I had room in my suitcase would have lugged home enough instruments for a whole band: bodhran drums, bones, spoons and maybe even uilleann pipes. On one trip to the Caribbean, I was convinced I could be a steel drum player; luckily, there were no drums for purchase on the island.

I suppose it’s my passion for a place, for its people, that inspires this sort of madness in me, this need to replicate what I have found and instill it into my daily life. Perhaps it is a way of keeping the memories alive. I am loath to leave some places and head home to my ordinary life.

What I have yet to figure out, though, is how to carry home more esoteric things, like an entire way of life. How, for instance, to institute the Spanish siesta into my afternoon? How to take a two-hour lunch and still get work done? How to stay as relaxed as I am on the beach in the Caribbean, as enthused as I am in a Parisian art museum, as connected to people as I am when encountering another culture?

Ah, but that’s exactly what vacations are for.

– Jan Hecht, associate editor

I took a short trip down to the Outer Banks and am working from down here and unintentionally will be missing the snow. It is supposed to hit the Maryland - Virginia - Delmarva Peninsula region, my route from Philidelphia to Kitty Hawk, NC, and they are predicted to get between one to two feet by Saturday afternoon. The Philadelphia area is said to get about a foot.

My neighbors always laugh, as I seem to be making a flight to LA or Asia just as a pending winter storm is to hit. Dave Murphy, my neighbor across the street says, “Fran’s leaving? We are going to get hit hard!” — and it does seem to be the case. I can remember being on a US Airways flight from PHL when the captain announced, “Please be seated, as they are closing the airport in fifteen minutes, and I want us to be in the air by then.” He did it!

Down here, where the Wright brothers proved that man could fly a plane on its own power, we are just to get wind and rain. The winters can be harsh at times here, with sustained winds at 40 mph and torrential rains. I believe this is what we are to receive this weekend. It is always a thrill to watch the ocean here during a storm and how violent it can get. The coast here is known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic, as many ships have sunk in the storms.

I intend to hit the road Sunday morning to return in time for the Super Bowl back home . . . that is, if the weather allows me to do so!

– Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO

Having grown up in Oregon just a few hours’ drive from the coast, a trip to the beach at least three or four times a year was something to which I grew accustomed, though never weary. My siblings and I spent the days building forts among the driftwood logs, hunting for washed-up treasures, building sand castles and sculptures, playing in the (cold!) waves and warming ourselves by a fire as we munched on s’mores. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love to sit and watch the waves rolling into the shore or crashing dramatically against the rocks, and I’ve never slept better than within the sound of the breakers and the scent of the ocean air.

There were a few times in my adult life when I found myself living far from the sea and unable to just hop in the car for a quick drive to enjoy its soothing presence. How I missed the long walks on the sand and the calm I felt with nothing but the sound of the waves and the wind in my ears! My girls seem to feel that same pull of the tides. Their favorite family vacations include our many trips to the beach; and even now, when Jenny comes home from college in Chicago, she always requests that we squeeze in a day or two at the coast.

Having just returned from a few days by the sea, I’m feeling the benefit of my brief stay there and reminded how good it is for me to make the time for those interludes of quiet. Although the weather can often be stormy and extremely wet at this time of year, this time there was barely a breeze, the temperatures were in the 50s, and the sun even peeped through the high, thin overcast on occasion. It gave me the chance to take  comfortable, long walks up the sand and pause for some lengthy stretches to just sit and watch the breakers rolling in. I’m never bored seeing how the water swells up and builds into a curling, green glass wall and then tumbles over in seeming slow motion into foaming, pounding surf. It offers an opportunity to empty the mind and think of nothing at all or a background against which to tackle some knotty problem without the interference of any other distraction.

So I’ve returned home to a week full of deadlines, appointments and obligations, but renewed in spirit, body and soul. And when life gets hectic, I’ll recall those peaceful moments by the sea until I can visit there again.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader 

In my opinion, fall is New York City’s summer. I remember anticipating my first summer in the city. I imagined barbecues outside every day with friends and day and weekend trips to the beach. However, once summer rolled around, I found reality to be much different from what I had imagined. The sweltering heat and humidity kept us all indoors. Instead of the beach or barbecues, I opted for the movies and museums.

Weekends were so highly valued, everyone planned trips according to their own schedules. Free music shows and festivals are highlights of the summer in the city, but none of my friends (including myself) seemed to arrange a weekend where we were all in the city together. Summer had always been my favorite season, and for the first time, it had me feeling lost.

Then fall rolled around! Suddenly, the temperature dropped several degrees. It felt like the temperature drop was the reason restaurants had outdoor patios and beer gardens. People returned from vacation homes in the Hamptons and filled the city streets. Now, weekends are full of options because all of my friends are home. The thought of going to the movies or a museum seems like such a waste of the beautiful outdoor weather.

The city is much more fun when you can stroll down the street wearing layers of fall fashion! Summer sandals leave your feet covered in city grime. Boots, scarves, sweaters, gloves — all simultaneously serve two purposes: making you look good and protecting you from the concrete jungle.

So, Happy fall to everyone. Make this the month you visit New York City!

– Courtney Centeno, account executive