Day Thirty: Maine

Last, but certainly not least…Maine.

“Home at last,” sighs Mr. Crumpet as he hangs up his hat.

“I missed my bog,” says Orange Bear.

“Orange Bear, what do you say we celebrate with a tall stack of blueberry pancakes?”

“Forthwith, dear friend, forthwith!”

After thirty days around the world, Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear are a little tuckered out. And what better place for them to kick up their feet (or paws) than the familiar environs of their beloved central Maine?

The late E.B. White, author of Charlotte’s Web and resident of Maine, often used his experiences in the state as inspiration for his writing. In his classic 1941 essay “Once More to the Lake,” White wrote:

One summer, along about 1904, my father rented a camp on a lake in Maine and took us all there for the month of August. We all got ringworm from some kittens and had to rub Pond’s Extract on our arms and legs night and morning, and my father rolled over in a canoe with all his clothes on; but outside of that the vacation was a success and from then on none of us ever thought there was any place in the world like that lake in Maine.

For Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear, there really isn’t anyplace in the world like home.

Day Twenty-Nine: London

Christmastime is Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear’s favorite time of the year, but at the Harrods department store in Knightsbridge, you can enjoy the yuletide spirit months in advance — this year, the decorations have already gone up.

Orange Bear has supported this shameless commercialism if only for the Harrods annual Christmas bear, a tradition to which he feels deeply connected.

Speaking of shopping in London, Mr. Crumpet is always keen to visit the mother lode: the Edward Bates hat shop in St. James’s.

At Bates Hatters, Mr. Crumpet gets his hat on.

Tall hats abound in London. Posted outside Buckingham Palace, the iconic Queen’s Guard in their tall fur hats —

“Stop,” says Orange Bear. “You know what kind of fur they use?”

You mean…

“Don’t say it!”

Orange Bear is OK with the tall hats still worn by those other authority figures whom tourists love snapping pictures of: the ubiquitous London bobbies.

“The life borne in a tall hat is sweetest of all,” says Mr. Crumpet.

Lest their cultured sensibilities should wither in the throes of soulless consumerism, Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear visit Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, the modern-day replica of the original, where the Bard’s plays are performed during the summer season (May-October).

I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain… (The Merry Wives of Windsor)

“Oh, poor, tragic Sackerson,” laments Orange Bear. “At least he didn’t suffer the ignominy of becoming a hat.”

Day Twenty-Eight: Switzerland

There’s no doubt Switzerland has made the world a better place. Or at least made certain little things in the world better (than anyplace else). Let us review:

• Chocolate
• Pocket knives
• Watches
• Banking
• Cheese
• Fondue
• Cough drops
• Tennis players
• Skis
• Cable cars
• Rescue Dogs
• The Alphorn
• Human Welfare
• That little thing called the internet(s) (OK, so it was an Englishman working in Switzerland.)

(photo by Gaby Kaminsky)

The heart of Switzerland is Lake Lucerne (above), the mountain lake where William Tell famously skedaddled (and later freed Switzerland from ruthless tyranny!).

“All because of a hat,” muses Orange Bear. “Can a hat have such power?”

He glances over at Mr. Crumpet.

“Don’t answer that.”

Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear were mesmerized by the fairy tale charms of Lucerne, the medieval city on the shores of Lake Lucerne. Actually, those two fell in love with the whole country the second they stepped off the train.

“For me, it was the second I stepped on the train,” corrects Orange Bear. “The Chocolate Train.”

Day Twenty-Seven: Montana

In the movie adaptation of A River Runs Through It, Norman Maclean’s paean to fly-fishing and Montana, Paul Maclean (Brad Pitt) says to Norman, “Oh, I’ll never leave Montana, brother.” He was definitely on to something.

Montana is billed as Big Sky Country — that’s not just marketing hokum — but it’s also Big Dreams Country. The sprawling state (fourth largest) is home to a sparse population known for its independent streak. It’s a place where the American Dream of yesteryear is still alive and kicking and where the beauty of the American West has been left largely unspoiled.

Most importantly, to Orange Bear at least, Montana boasts the largest U.S. population of grizzlies outside of Alaska. Many of these giant bears roam the Northern Continental Divide (including Glacier National Park) in western Montana as well as Yellowstone National Park which Montana shares with Idaho and Wyoming.

Montanan grizzly bears have a lot of critter company: bison, lynx, gray wolves, bighorn sheep, moose, and eagles, to name a few. These creatures inhabit an incredible landscape from sweeping prairies to lush forests to, of course, awesome mountain ranges (over 40 named ones!). It ain’t called Montana for nothing!

Grizzlies taking a little hike at Glacier National Park. (Photo: Mike Calanan)

Day Twenty-Six: Scotland

Four centuries ago, King James, the first Stuart (and Scottish) king of England authorized the preparation of the King James Bible. Over a century later, Edinburgh became one of the leading intellectual centers in Europe. Adam Smith, one of the key figures of the Scottish Enlightenment, is known today as the father of modern economics and free market capitalism.

“Can we skip to the Sean Connery part?” asks Orange Bear.

Scotland’s favorite son, Sean Connery, was born in 1930 and soared into the cinematic pantheon after he took on the role of James Bond (also Scottish) in 1962. Today, Sir Sean is an outspoken supporter of Scottish independence and an avid golfer (invented by the Scots).

“Don’t forget Eric Liddell,” says Mr. Crumpet. “You know, Chariots of Fire and all that.”

Eric Liddell was the Scottish missionary and Olympic gold medalist who famously refused to race the 100 meters on a Sunday. He —

“Sorry,” interrupts Mr. Crumpet, “but let’s not overlook one of my favorites, Sir Walter Scott.”

Sir Walter Scott is the legendary Scottish author of such 19th century Romanticist classics as Waverley (the first historical novel), Ivanhoe, and —

“The Falkirk Wheel!” shouts Phil the Owl. “The greatest, giantest gadget of them all! Only in Scotland!”

[Deep breath] Bagpipes, kilts, border collies, tartans, William Wallace…

“And the Falkirk Wheel!”

The one-of-a-kind Falkirk Wheel…and Sir Sean in full regalia.

Day Twenty-Five: Amalfi Coast

Italy’s Amalfi Coast features such a winding and vertiginous highway, Toonces the Driving Cat would surely fly off into the scintillating blue waters of the Gulf of Salerno.

“Toonces, no-o-o!!”

Costiera Amalfitana is 30 miles of breathtaking coastal scenery and towns improbably perched on steep, rocky hillsides. Monterey resident John Steinbeck, no stranger to such coastal beauty, wrote about the pastel town of Positano: “Positano bites deep. It is a dream place that isn’t quite real when you are there and becomes beckoningly real after you have gone.”

Further east, in Conca dei Marini, you will find the Emerald Grotto (Grotta dello Smeraldo), known as the jewel of the Amalfi coast. Boat tours take visitors inside the cave where the sunlight sparkles its blue-green waters and reflective stalactites.

“Ah, bella,” says Orange Bear.

Of course, this being Italy, Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear travel with knorks to tackle the most demanding local cuisine. Orange Bear wonders if the knork can handle the octopus. Not too worry: it arrives sliced, marinated, and garnished with lemons.

“Squisito!“

From its lofty vantage point a thousand feet above the sea, tiny Ravello has enticed visitors, including famous artists and writers, from around the world for centuries. Every year, Ravello celebrates its cultural history with the Wagner festival, a reference to the celebrated German composer who fell in love with its enchanting gardens.

As they hurtle down the precipitous road leading away from Ravello, Orange Bear covers his eyes. He hears laughter and peeks.

The red blur of a Ferrari convertible streaks past them. Behind the wheel: an Italian lynx, her ear tufts flowing in the breeze.

“Hey, you don’t see that every day,” shouts Mr. Crumpet from the front seat.

Day Twenty-Four: Somerset, UK

Generations of the Crumpet family worked the rolling pastures of Somerset County in southwestern England. Mr. Crumpet was born in America, but whenever he returns to the West Country, he feels like it’s never really left his bones.

“You know, you ought to get that checked out,” says Orange Bear.

“Now, Orange Bear,” smiles Mr. Crumpet, “we Crumpets are, after all, woodsy folks.”

Mr. Crumpet’s relations enjoy taking their American cousin for a little motor tour of the countryside. Mrs. Crumpet relishes the traditional hamstone villages along the way. Every few miles or so, Orange Bear stops for a chat with the odd badger, fox, or cow who shares local anecdotes or, ahem, racing tips.

Somerset is home to several National Nature Reserves where Mr. Crumpet is able to do some serious birdwatching. At West Sedgemoor, a colony of grey heron flourishes.

To the north is Bath, which was home to one of the Crumpet family’s favorite writers of all time, Jane Austen. Also, the city named for its natural hot spring reopened (after much delay) its public hot spa earlier this month. Bears are not allowed.

Bears (and sheep and cows) are allowed, however, to traipse up the famed Glastonbury Tor.

Day Twenty-Three: Holland

It is known that Mr. Crumpet and Orange Bear search far and wide for the finest in crêpe gastronomique.

“Pancakes are the best. This I declare,” Orange Bear, um, declares.

They have found what they are they looking for along the banks of the Kromme Rijn (Crooked Rhine River) in the Utrecht province of central Holland. Here, Pannekoekenhuizen (pancake houses) sound their irresistible siren calls.

As Orange Bear ravages his apple, cinnamon, and sugar (and more powdered sugar) pancakes, Mr. Crumpet says to his Dear Old Grandmum, “Dear Old Grandmum, he is, after all, a bear.”

Later, Dear Old Grandmum serves tea in her little brick home in Nieuwegein. In her golden years, among the canals and woodlands and gardens and farms (yes, and windmills), she has chosen to return to family roots.

“It does feel rather homey here, doesn’t it?” reflects Mr. Crumpet.

They are, after all, woodsy folks.

Meanwhile, Orange Bear chases butterflies in the garden. (It’s the sugar.)

Hollandse IJssel, Nieuwegein (photo: Koen van Gilst)

Day Twenty-Two: Jerusalem

Europe (west), Africa (south), Asia (east), and Jerusalem (center)

On some medieval world maps, you’ll find Jerusalem at the very center. Maps today are a tad more geodetically accurate, but in the hearts and minds of many, this ancient city remains the center of the world.

Jerusalem’s Old City sits on a little over 200 acres, and its four neighborhoods, or quarters — Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and Armenian — are enclosed by 500-year-old walls. Its winding, narrow streets are crowded and confusing but filled with fascinating sights. (”And smells,” adds Orange Bear.) Mr. Crumpet insisted he knew where he was the whole time. (”He didn’t.”)

Mr. Crumpet received a few quizzical stares as he approached the Western Wall, the conspicuous remnant of a wall that once surrounded the Temple Mount. (Pictured R.: An Orthodox worshipper at the Wall.)

“Maybe you should lose the hat,” suggested Orange Bear.

“Perish the thought,” he replied.

The City of David, located south of the Temple Mount and the Old City, is the Jerusalem of the Bible (going back 3,000 years). This area today continues to yield archaeological discoveries, including the reputed remains of King David’s palace.

Jerusalem, or Yerushalaim in Hebrew, means “City (Foundation) of Peace,” a name freighted with meaning more for its future than for its long, strife-filled past.

Day Twenty-One: Pennsylvania Dutch Country

Pennsylvania Dutch Country is not Dutch, a country, or even in Pennsylvania. All right, it’s in Pennsylvania. But the immigrants who originally settled in southeastern Pennsylvania in the early 18th century were mostly of German and Swiss heritage, not Dutch.

“That was really keeping me up at night,” says Orange Bear. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

(photo: Payal Vora)

Pennsylvania Dutch Country is still famously associated with the horse and buggy . While there remain traditional Amish and Mennonite communities in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania Dutch — a dialect of German brought over by the original settlers — is heard less and less in the 21st century.

Mr. Crumpet and the Missus quite enjoy returning to bucolic Amish country, particularly the areas away from US Highway 30 and the crush of looky-loos. (Mr. Crumpet, even sans beard, is frequently mistaken to be part of the, er, cultural landscape. “He doth protest too much, I fear,” says Orange Bear.)

Crumpet family highlights include the horseback riding on farm trails and dinner with an Amish family. (Orange Bear’s presence is sometimes a bit of a prickly matter.)

Other destinations in the area beckon. A Civil War buff, Mr. Crumpet lobbies for Gettysburg, over an hour away. “It’s living history,” he breathlessly intones, gripping his well-worn copy of The Killer Angels.

A chocolate buff, Orange Bear lobbies for Hershey, about an hour away. “It’s a real chocolate factory,” he sighs dreamily, pawing at imaginary chocolate waterfalls.

Mrs. Crumpet decides.