A while back, I wrote about my niece Sam’s search for the right college. By “right,” I was assuming she meant the right place to go for a winter break. Or the right place to go for great college sports. Or the right place to go for a new destination. I gave her my advice. Iowa, Texas, Wisconsin, Louisville, UCLA, Colorado and Kentucky would have worked, just to name a few.

Last week, she made her decision. She chose Southern Illinois University, home of the Salukis.

I admit SIU would not be my choice . . . I mean for her, of course. However, I know Sam (and her parents) put a lot of thought and research into the decision. I also know that Carbondale is just 342 miles (give or take) away, which translates to a 5.5 hour trip. Not too bad.

I also know that the Salukis have made six NCAA tournament appearances since 2002. Not too bad, either (and better than my DePaul Blue Demons).

I also know that Carbondale is generally several degrees warmer than Chicago. It might not sound like much, but a few degrees is always welcome in the middle of a Chicago winter.

I learned that SIU has a teaching museum (the University Museum) on campus, which houses 60,000 artifacts and hosts traveling shows from artists. SIU also has one of the largest student unions in the country and a huge Student Center, along with a Rec Center and Health Center. There are also a number of popular food franchises on campus, including Chick-fil-A (one of Sam’s favorites).

SIU’s notable alumni include Jim Hart (former star NFL quarterback), Walt Frazier (NBA Hall of Famer), Dennis Franz (actor) and Scott Olofsson (a longtime Global Traveler fan). Unfortunately, Jim Belushi is also an alum, but I digress.

The city of Carbondale also has a lot to offer. The Shawnee National Forest, the Crab Orchard National Wildlife Refuge and Giant City State Park are all in the Carbondale area. For the golf enthusiasts (aka our publisher, Fran Gallagher), Golf Digest awarded Hickory Ridge Golf Course a 4-star rating for the past six years.

Reviewing these facts (and Sam’s wishes, of course), I will become a proud supporter (and hopefully occasional visitor) of SIU. Go Salukis!

– John Wroblewski, distribution specialist

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

After warding off several colds this season, I thought that, perhaps, I would finish the winter with a record-breaking immune system. Unfortunately, I have succumbed to the sniffles and congestion. Being snowed in and bedridden last night, I thought it would be an opportune moment to practice my home cooking.

Whenever someone was sick in our house, my Filipino grandmother always made a popular native dish known as arroz caldo. Packed with ginger, chicken, rice and garlic, arroz caldo is the best remedy for a cold and the only Filipino dish my mom agrees to cook in the house because it doesn’t make the kitchen “stink like fish.”

This was my first time attempting to cook Filipino cuisine in my Brooklyn apartment. The aroma immediately took me back to the days when my Grandma would prepare wonderful Filipino dishes for us. The arroz caldo was a hit, and it almost tasted just like my grandmother’s. I highly recommend this recipe for anyone with the sniffles.

– Courtney Centeno, account executive

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

If you’ve been reading my blog over the last few months, you are aware that my younger daughter, Jenny, has been traveling in Europe the last three weeks with a group of fellow nursing students. They have now settled in the picturesque town of Guildford in Surrey, England, to begin their one-month study of community health issues and some practicum experience. Jenny really enjoyed her whirlwind tour of several cities on the Continent but now seems equally pleased to be somewhat settled for a while in one place with a room to herself. I thought I’d just share a few of her impressions of the places she visited along the way and a few lessons she and her friends learned on this, their first big travel adventure on their own.

It doesn’t take much snow to foul up transportation in London. One inch brought havoc to the rail lines, closed the runways at Gatwick for several hours and caused them to rebook on a later flight to Madrid. The girls from Chicago just couldn’t see what all the fuss was about.

Loved Madrid, the Prado Museum, Plaza del Sol and . . . sangria! Also fell in love with Barcelona (I have yet to talk to anyone who’s gone there and doesn’t) and wants to return. After cold and snowy England, the girls loved the sun in Spain.

Jenny celebrated her 22nd birthday in Paris, preferred the Musee d’Orsay over the Louvre and learned a valuable lesson: Check to be sure the site you want to visit is open before you take the time and expense to go there. The group trekked out to Versailles on a Monday only to learn the palace is closed on Mondays (and the grounds, in January, are rather subdued).

Roman men can be charming at any age. On their first evening in the Eternal City, the ladies enjoyed the chivalrous attentions of their “older” waiter (For all I know, he was only 35. Ah, perspective!), and the bartender bought each one a rose from a roving vendor. St. Peter’s was impressive; but Jenny found the colors in the Sistine Chapel to be much brighter than she expected, and the Creation of Adam to be smaller than she thought it would be (again, perspective!).

Squeezing too many cities into too few days along with certain train schedules can lead to frustration. Upon arriving in Florence, the group found that there were no remaining seats available on the train they planned to take from their next stop, Venice, to Munich. Instead, they would have to take an overnight train north, leaving them less than 10 hours in Venice. They never even took a vaporetto to see St. Mark’s Square — sacrilege!!

Food and transportation expenses gobble up the euros; so do entrance fees (and drinks at the hostel bar??).

The Wombat’s hostels in Munich and Berlin offered great, free (except for the tip for the guide), half-day walking tours of those cities, full of great information. Dachau touched Jenny deeply: “I don’t think it is possible to explain how I felt when we were standing in the gas chamber. The evil that existed is unbelievably horrific.”

Be sure you get on the right train. The trek from Munich to Berlin took all day and five trains to accomplish; it should have been one train and a few hours. At least the snowy countryside was pretty!

Based on all the other things Jen has said or written to us thus far, I would venture to say that her greatest lesson is how much there is yet for her to see and learn, and what a great teacher travel can be.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader