Amsterdam is full of canals, exhibitions, museums and nightlife. The Hague is where the King lives and where all the political life of the country takes place, whereas Rotterdam will shock you a little bit if you compare it to any other Dutch city. It got completely destroyed by bombing during WW2, and now it has such a modern and futuristic look because it was rebuilt from scratch.
DROP AND GIVE ME TWENTY! That’s right, I’m talking about calisthenics: simple body-weight exercises that utilize the force of gravity. Push-ups. Pull-ups. Dips. Squats. Lunges. It’s an age-old method used by militaries, athletic teams and high school gym teachers alike.
The other day a guest asked me how we’re able to hire such amazing leaders with such consistently exemplary values. He then asked whether we specifically recruited for values. Which prompted me to review the criteria we use to screen leaders. Guess what–no “values” were listed. Plenty of leadership, guest service, judgment, motivation, teamwork, ability to connect with guests and all of the obvious language, active lifestyle and mechanical inclination type criteria. And about 40 sub-criteria. But no values.
Then it dawned on me. Values are so ingrained in Backroads that it’s inherently how we look at everything, but especially in how we treat people. Honesty, integrity, and treating people with respect regardless of who they are and where they come from all matter to me and they matter to Backroads. As in, they mean EVERYTHING. These values matter, and we’re proud of it. We think you’ll see that they matter to you too.
I’ve been lucky in my time as a Backroads leader to have some amazing guests, like Andy Russell. If that name rings a bell, it’s because Andy was an NFL star in the 1960s and ’70s. It was day three of our trip and Andy and I were riding along a gorgeous stretch of road. Something shiny coming from Andy’s handlebars caught my eye, so I took a look: a ring. It looked like a Super Bowl ring. I had to ask…. Andy, who hadn’t mentioned anything up to this point, grinned a little grin and told me his story, and what a story it was!
Whether you’re on Backroads’ Belize and Guatemala Multisport trip or traveling on your own, head to Belize for stunning beaches, abundant wildlife, lush forests and Maya ruins. You can also get some fantastic rice-and-beans or beans-and-rice (yes there is a difference). As someone who’s lived in the country, I can assure you that Belize is a fantastic place to visit!
One warm and lazy afternoon, I found myself meandering about the twisted and narrow pedestrian streets of downtown Seville. As I made my way back toward the main square, I spotted a tiny nun (almost a full head shorter than myself), nearly doubled over with what looked to be an incredibly heavy picnic basket, disappear into a small doorway. Surprised–and more than a little intrigued–I followed in the nun’s laborious path to sneak a peak around the door she had left ajar.
Traditional, yet modern. Buzzing with activity, but filled with peaceful pockets of relaxation. Where the Kloster Dhammapala (a serene Buddhist monastery) huddles in the shadow of the Klettersteig (a heart-pumping level-4 climbing path). Whatever paradox you’re looking for can be found in Kandersteg, your Backroads gateway to a spectacular alpine adventure and the starting point of our Switzerland Family Multisport trip.
Before heading out to lead Backroads trips in Italy, I had already gathered that Italians have an ongoing love affair with olive oil. However, I was almost completely ignorant of the pepper to this salt: balsamic vinegar. “Italian dressing” in my household was a mix of spices shaken with olive oil and white vinegar–no balsamic included–and I wouldn’t consider putting the bitter stuff on ice cream. Not even in my dreams would I suppose that some balsamic vinegars cost hundreds of dollars for just a few ounces. I had a lot to learn.
Imagine a fruit so creamy it might be considered a part of the custard family. And so key to survival that it might be grouped with the apple. And there you have my favorite fruit, the cherimoya. I’ve loved cherimoya since I first laid taste buds on it in Costa Rica in November of 2005 (yes, I remember the date-this fruit is that impactful). I drank it in batidos (delicious Costa Rican fruit smoothies), I ate it fresh from the market and I made sure that it took part in every picnic I prepared. You might say I was obsessed.
Nestled deep within lush tropical foothills sits a cluster of over a dozen tiny villages that comprise the tranquil town of Ubud–the artistic and cultural center of Bali. The jungle-covered hills and terraced rice paddies surrounding this laid-back locale are dotted with ancient temples and palaces that still play a central role in the country’s complex culture.
If you’ve ever imagined a small desert down, Moab might be the place that you’ve pictured. This tiny Utah town is nestled between glowing red rocks and natural wonders that draw visitors from all over the world. It’s a mecca for outdoor activity, where adventurers come for world-class climbing, mountain biking, rafting and off-roading. Weeks of exploring could not even graze the surface of Moab’s wonders. However, if you have just 24 hours in Moab, these activities will give you a good taste of what it has to offer, and will surely leave you thirsting for more!
It was pure serendipity that allowed Collier Lumpkin and me to be here together, enjoying an enormous fish stew at Ristorante Belforte overlooking the tiny harbor of Vernazza in Italy’s Cinque Terre. Our lives had been running parallel paths for some time, but it wasn’t until a year before that our worlds finally collided on a Backroads trip in Puglia.
When people ask me about my cross-country biking adventure, they almost always ask, “Where was your favorite place to ride?” Perhaps it was because we were tired, sun-burnt cyclists, worn out by the consistent headwinds and 105-degree heat of Kansas, but my answer is almost always Missouri. Yes. I said, Missouri. Last summer,
The punctually repetitious ezan (Islamic call to prayer) will forever ring distinctly in my ears–that shrill wailing cry echoing from loudspeakers perched on minarets towering above nearly every town throughout Turkey. And never will I forget the hospitality that I experienced during my six weeks of cycling from the rocky eastern Black Sea coast, through the historic hills and caves of central Anatolia, and along the rugged sun-drenched Mediterranean coast before eventually turning north to Istanbul–the geopolitical gateway between Europe and Asia.