My whole family was gathering in Chicago for a bat mitzvah. I arrived at Union Station a few minutes early to meet my son’s train, due in from New York. But the reader board posted a delay, so I waited. And waited. And waited. Frustrated, I went to the information booth to ask, “What’s going on with the train from New York?” 

Long pants, long sleeves, and a head net covering my face did nothing to prevent a horde of mosquitos from devouring me. With nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, I tearfully admitted defeat. Together with my husband and then-young sons, we broke down our campsite and hiked out of the North Cascade Mountains. It was too late to drive back to Mercer Island. The big question was “where to sleep tonight?” As newcomers to the Pacific Northwest, we knew nothing about eastern Washington. We searched for the biggest nearby city on our AAA map.

Alfie the Cat stretched himself out on a banquette where he’d been gazing out the windows in the hallway of our 3rd floor hotel room. A look-alike for our dearly departed tabby cat, Nile, he welcomed our caresses and rolled himself over for belly rubs. We were staying at the Royal Crescent Hotel & Spa in Bath, England, after a week of walking the Cotswold Way.

A large snake slithered across the footpath just inches from our boots on our first day walking the Cotswolds, 800 square miles of charming villages and towns in southwest England. Though totally uninterested in us, the snake added drama to the first hour of a weeklong walk. Our guidebook identified it as a nonaggressive, though venomous, rare British Adder. Whew!