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

Both in Europe and the United States, the last week has been a nightmare for a large number of travelers trying to reach their destinations for the holidays. A month ago, we got through another big holiday travel period — Thanksgiving week — with mild weather and no major travel snarls anywhere in the country. That in itself was fairly unusual, for considering the size of the U.S. and the time of year, one would expect at least one portion to face ice, snow, heavy rains, wind and/or thick fog and resulting flight cancellations or delays. But no, this year the week was amazingly calm. We should have known; it was too much to expect a similar reprieve two big travel weeks in a row.

Sure enough, last weekend saw a huge weather system track up the East Coast, dumping record amounts of snowfall from the Carolinas through Virginia, D.C. and Pennsylvania and on up north. Roads were a mess and hundreds of flights were cancelled. Not only did it distress those starting their Christmas vacations, but retailers were also concerned that an already sluggish season was taking a big hit on the last shopping weekend before Christmas, traditionally the biggest. A similar but even more unusual and long-lasting (for the region) weather event struck the Northwest last year at about the same time, with the same kind of chaos felt in the transportation and retail sectors. Everyone here watched with great sympathy and empathy the events unfolding in the East.

That particular brand of holiday “cheer” was at the same time occurring in Europe. We read of the closing of the Channel Tunnel and Eurostar service last weekend after some 2,500 passengers were stranded for up to 16 hours there. (I don’t suffer from claustrophobia, but that would definitely make me more than a little crazy!) Officials blamed an unusually cold weather system in northern France that caused condensation on the rails in the comparatively warmer Chunnel, leading to an electrical failure. Service resumed on Tuesday, but it was doubtful that service would be back to normal before Christmas itself. Additionally, related weather systems throughout Europe caused flight cancellations and delays and other rail and road problems. Misery surely had a lot of company on both sides of the Atlantic!

But wait, there’s more! Wednesday a huge weather system began a slow march beginning in Texas, churning north and encompassing a large swath of the Midwest. Our daughter and her husband were scheduled on an early morning flight out of Midway in Chicago on Southwest Airlines, and luckily they made it out a few hours before the storm caused hundreds of flight cancellations out of O’Hare and Midway. Ground and air travel continued to be affected right up until Christmas Day, and we learned that our Texas cousins enjoyed a white Christmas while far up north we simply sat swaddled in fog.

At this point, I’m sure most Americans are wondering with some dread what the New Year’s weekend might bring. We’ll have to hope that the worst is behind us and that the weather gods will figure we’re due for a reprieve after this past week. Here’s hoping for clear skies and calm sailing for all!

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader 

Have you ever met anyone who enjoys driving on the New Jersey Turnpike? If you have, I fear that person and myself might not agree on much in life. While I will admit the NJ Turnpike serves an important function — a function I suppose it serves successfully — I quiver any time I know I need to drive on that particular highway.

Anyone reading this blog who is not familiar with the NJ Turnpike, be thankful! In my opinion, that roadway alone gives New Jersey a bad reputation, but I do hear the state is quite beautiful. However, from girlhood through adulthood, the majority of my experiences in the state have been on the turnpike. Those experiences have consisted of wrong exits, lingering stenches from the garbage dumps located between New Jersey and New York and hours of endless traffic (particularly on car trips between New York and Washington, D.C. en route to visit relatives). Needless to say, New Jersey is not my favorite state.

During my time at Global Traveler, I have tended to use NJ Transit when traveling through New Jersey, either to Newark for flights or sales calls or to Trenton, on my way to headquarters in Yardley, Penn. Yesterday, instead of taking the train, I had the use of a car and opted to use it to get from Manhattan to Newark. This is typically a 20-25 minute drive. Getting out of the city was easy enough; I went right on through the Lincoln Tunnel. Then disaster struck. I did my best to follow the signs, but the distances between the signs never allowed me enough time to make my exit. Maybe it is the (sometimes) four to six lanes of traffic you have to traverse if you are unfamiliar with the road signs. So, in the end, a 25-minute trip ended up taking an hour. The return to Manhattan was, thankfully, much smoother, but I still missed my exit to the Lincoln Tunnel. The exit appeared immediately after the sign, so I opted for the Holland Tunnel. New York City never looked so good!

Now, I understand that if I drove more, I would be more familiar with the exits and my mistakes yesterday would be eliminated, but the road could be a bit more user-friendly for newcomers. And the endless hours of traffic and garbage odors will not be going away any time soon. Let’s just say, I thank my lucky stars for accessible trains and planes when traveling up and down the East Coast.

– Alex Young, vice president and associate publisher

My younger daughter, Jenny, is preparing for study and travel abroad in the new year, and so her focus for the last several months has been on where to go, how long to stay in each place and how to get there. Being a child of the Internet age, she has of course done extensive research, visiting numerous travel websites, plotting various itineraries and comparing fares to get the most out of her time and money. Bright and detail-oriented, she has tackled the task with gusto and not a little pleasure, but one aspect of the trip has made planning it more than a little challenging: she will be traveling with seven other girls.

Last spring Jenny learned she would be one of 12 senior Loyola nursing students to serve her community health clinical experience in Guildford, a small city located in Surrey, southwest of London. Four days a week for over a month she will get a first-hand look at Great Britain’s public health service. On long weekends and before and after that term she plans to get in as much travel on the British Isles and the Continent as possible. For two-plus weeks before her study starts, several of her nursing friends will be visiting a slew of cities. Starting in Madrid, they’ll go on to Barcelona, Paris, Rome, Florence, Venice, Munich and Berlin.

Just hammering out that itinerary took some effort, as you can imagine trying to accomodate the wishes of eight young ladies might. When it seemed no one was moving to start nailing down flights and accomodations as this fall term ticked away, Jenny went into full travel agent mode and spent hours finding the most efficient and economical links between cities and options for overnight stays. Frustration struck when, just days before the girls were to gather, credit cards in hand, to book their intercity flights together after agreeing on the details, one of the group finally decided she wanted to explore other options. What about train travel? (More expensive than flying, overall, Jen had already found.) Do we really need to worry about reserving hostels in advance when we’ll be traveling in the off-season? (With eight of us? Are you kidding!?) More than anything, Jenny was more than a little upset that at that late date someone had finally decided to jump in after she had spent so much time and effort on behalf of the entire bunch.

Everything was put on hold for another week as a few of the girls went off to a Student Travel Agency office and came back with an alternate plan that added another city and some Eurail travel — and at least $400 to the bill. The benefits were that the agent would be able to book and reserve all their travel and accomodations at once and bill each traveler separately. Jenny graciously (well, okay, I heard some grumbling) decided she’d just go along with the new plan. She did warn me, however, that if there was any complaining during their travels from the others about not having any money to spend on food or shopping, she might find it difficult to bite her tongue.

Her dad and I have mostly sat back and observed this process, offering a sympathetic ear and only a little advice. We know that all of this is part of learning to be a world traveler, and although Jen has been fortunate to travel abroad twice already, this is her first experience at taking the reins herself. My hope is that once all the bother of nailing down the mundane but necessary details of the trip is done, she and her friends will be able to really enjoy each destination and each other as they explore these new places together.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader