I love London. I am a Londoner. Born near Chalk Farm in North London. I hopped on the busses and made my way to Hamstead Heath every day of the summer holidays  In England, we had 6 weeks. Mum and Dad both worked, so we would disappear all day to the Heath.

Ponds and forests, we would all be a band of merry kids swimming, fishing, and climbing trees. Names like the Vale of Health and the Spaniards Inn were second nature to me. The Vale of Health was where Londoners evacuated in the Great Plague of 1665, and the Spaniards was built as an Inn by two Sp[anish brothers in 1585!

Hampstead is famous for Keats house. It had a Fun Fair every Easter that was a tradition started by traveling fairs in the 19th century. It  was the best place to find  conkers(horse chestnuts) to play….conkers. A game with a piece of string threaded through a hole in the conker. Simple pleasures. It’s the largest open space in London and has an amazing view atop Parliament Hills of the entire landscape of London. At Kenmore house, a former  stately home and now open to the public, there’s always time for tea and ice cream. It was a kid’s joy.

And there we moved…to…South London! AGHHH!

A confession.

I like maps. The old Michelin type ones.  I like to see a country laid out on a table and figure out a route or an itinerary imagining I’m looking at it from way up high.  Once I’ve done this I can plug in modern technology and figure out times, look at Google maps but…always start with a map. 

I like the accordion fold and the intimacy it gives me to see a whole country and figure out distances with mountains and coastal areas.  A further confession, I like globes.  Just to imagine the complexity of our planet.  Our 7 continents and 5 oceans.  196 countries floating around in the solar system.  I imagine Magellan in 1520 setting off to circumnavigate the world.  Seville to Seville. 

The job finished by Elgano.  A giant circle following imaginary lines of latitude literary traveling where no person traveled before.  I love maps because they take me back like a time traveler to a time when people had to use the stars and basic cartography.  I love to imagine the jigsaw of Pangia.  But above all I just love the accordion fold of a beautiful map.  Travel is a wonder!

London has many airport possibilities. It’s one of the largest hubs in air travel in the world.  

Heathrow is the principal airport. It has strong transportation links to the center of London and recently upped its game with the ‘Lizzy Line’ (the Elizabeth Line to those who don’t know!). A nearly straight shot into town and importantly a connection from East London to West London. Gatwick is reliably served by Victoria Station and the Gatwick express. Half an hour from Victoria to Gatwick. All of these transportation links are tappable one tap on your end.

Stanstead in the east of London is relatively easy to get to from Liverpool Street, taking the Stanstead Express. London City Airport, deep in the heart of the new modern London city, near the O2 is relatively easy to get… But I had never…big confession… been to Luton or experienced Luton before. Luton was one of those amusing jokes at comedy shows, known for its cheap flights, cheap packages and sure enough EasyJet and Ryan Air use Luton a lot.

But here’s the deal with Luton. The lines move fast. The immigration is smooth. The airport is padded out with lots of eateries, and you can connect to places that would not normally be connectable  on the big airlines. Which means that you’re paying a lot less. In addition, you connect from the airport to the British Rail system by the Dart train. Tap again. And then a high speed train with no stops,  all the way to St Pancras. Tap again. And from there, the city is yours. So I was kind of pleased, shocked, and amused by Luton.

If you’ve ever struggled to go from terminal five to terminal four or even terminal three at Heathrow, you will know that it is not a piece of cake. If you’ve ever struggled at Gatwick, you should know it is an ancient airport with bad infrastructure, and if the Gatwick express is not working, you are literally halfway to the coast on the southern shores of England. Good luck with that! So ironically, the minor airports that look like they should be the ones to avoid are often a great deal and smooth in and out. Good old Luton…Who would have thought. 

I get to travel quite a bit. Our business is organizing educational programs for teachers with their students. It feels so important in this day and age. I get to listen to public radio a lot when I am home. It gives me a true international feel for our world. It elevates the conversation and it helps to educate me about places and people I am unfamiliar with… It works well with what I do. We hopefully leave students in a better place than where they started.

Our job is to work with teachers and our own guides to bring people and places to relevance. In our social media world with easy instant access to almost anything, we try to advocate for ‘Being There’. But being there is sometimes not always possible. It’s why I love listening to Public Radio international news coverage. It’s why I listen to BBC. There is a big wide world out there and the more we try to understand it, the better we are as citizens  and the better we can prepare ourselves for travel and the world beyond our towns and cities.

So here’s my shout out to public radio. Without you, we would be reduced to sound bites of not necessarily important gossip and without you, our world would be a slightly less informed place. I would travel with less information than I should. So thanks on behalf of all the teachers and students who benefit from your analysis and wisdom, as we all get to see our world sometimes simplified. There’s a whole wide world out there and we can be a part of it through your airwaves.

Rome. Love letter. As if someone had asked for a collection of all the great monuments across centuries of change . A splash of bathtubs from Caracalla. An amphitheater at the end of the street, a few columns in the corner of a busy traffic intersection, the odd obelisk from Egypt, fountains fed by ancient aqueducts and churches by the great superstars of Baroque. A little renaissance here and there, a dash of medieval,  a river that once was the heart of the city and Michelangelo‘s dome of St Peters in pink hew at sunset like a beacon seen pretty much everywhere.

As if it were possible to capture so much inside such a small space. An outdoor museum. 

STOLEN LUGGAGE? No, never!

Firstly, I want to say, I am an experienced traveler but who would have thought that my luggage would be gone in the blink of an eye.

So let me tell you how it happened. I prefer to take the underground in London to the airport. This day, I arrived early morning at Dean street in SoHo, London. It’s a straight shot on the Elizabeth line. However, the station was closed. Someone told me that the Tottenham Court Road station down the street was open. “OK.. it was early,” I wasn’t thinking. I’ll give it a try. I had a rollaway bag, a backpack stuck on it and thankfully a wraparound bag on me, where I carry my passport and wallet. I went down to the other subway on the escalator. The place was empty. I chatted with a worker at the station and it became clear that there was no easy way to get to the airport because I was in a hurry.

I took my hands off my bag to muse and think of what I should do for maybe 10 seconds…and then the bag was gone! Gone!

Wheeled away into some other place, some other space. My clothes, my bag… pretty much everything gone – except of course – the bag I kept close to me which had my wallet, my passport and my iPad.

I only tell the story because I’m embarrassed enough to want to share it and remind people that no matter how confident or how comfortable you are, these things can happen.  My bag was a ticket to some other place for somebody. I wished I had a really crappy bag with creaky wheels. Come to think of it, someone in my office has one. It barely moves when you try to wheel it. It’s a struggle. If i had a case like that, I would’ve heard it being wheeled away. Surely! My bag had the greatest wheels in the world and someone stole it. This person picked up a wonderful bag, pretty nice jacket, great pants, some fabulous T-shirts and a backpack that frankly I had grown to love.

I don’t feel bad. I just feel stupid. I hope this guy is a size 46 and quite tall and if I saw him walking down the street with a backpack that said, “Pietro Place… See you out there somewhere …” I might even approach him and say, “Hello.” Nice backpack!” 

But yes, the bag’s gone. Would’ve, could’ve , should’ve already processed. I am never taking my eyes off my bag again. Travel made me a story. Man… They even got my brand-new Italian socks. I loved my brand-new Italian socks. Oh well.

Travel changes lives…clearly.

It’s been overwhelming. The last few weeks have seen a barrage of funding stops and bizarre eccentric and scary behavior from our government. Hang on. This is America. It sure doesn’t feel that way. I remember coming to the USA in 1975. The land of open arms and opportunity. It was the beginning of student travel. American high school and college students were testing the waters of international travel. Experiencing the welcome mat laid out by our European friends. And in turn, a new wave of immigrants was arriving on the shores of America. That would be me!  America was our sanctuary. A place of strong government and a land of opportunity. Where did that moment go? Last time I checked,  government was about creating a strong environment so that we feel safe not just from the enemy without but the enemy within. Tax those who can afford to pay for those who cannot. Simple. Healthcare, education, and security.

Internalism goes nowhere. It promotes intolerance and stifles knowledge.

And what about respect? Where did it all go? I think of the crew at the local Dunkin Donuts. They all speak four languages. The car park attendant from Nigeria who is trying to get his son to a college here, works two jobs. Will his work visa be renewed? I don’t know.

I love travel. It’s my business. I think of all the things that will be affected. Tariffs on our neighbors. As if a car or a cell phone was ever fully built in one place.  The marketplace is International. The firing of thousands of federal employees makes our ability to service our clients worse. It means obtaining visas will be more complicated, passports will take longer, and before we know it, “DO NOT VISIT” will start to appear in potential travelers’ minds. TSA employee cuts mean more lines, and passenger jams at airports. All for what? So, billionaires can prosper. Seriously. Life is not just a marketplace of deals and dollars. At least I hope not. It’s about kindness, compassion, and dignity too.

Hospitality employs 10% of our workforce. Travel and tourism contribute $2.4 trillion to GDP. That’s over 9%. Travel flows with the economy.  It helps shape our view of the world. In our business, we introduce students to a world of different languages, diverse cultures, and new ways of looking at the world in general. We help create Global citizens, a venture that feels increasingly important to our future.

The USA is a powerful and wonderful country. It’s a treasure of endless possibilities that should not be abused. That’s the place I came to and that’s the place I love. 

Teaching is an art form. Vital for our “tomorrow’s world” people. Given the complexity we face… Climate change, the environment, sustainability, in addition to just being ourselves. Learning a language, developing an international way of looking at life. Being kind. Gifts we have can choose and gifts that are free!  In Barcelona recently, I was lucky to be in a crowd of incredible influencers and educators. A room of people who have dedicated their lives to helping students through the rocky unpredictable road of adolescence. Preparing students for college. Ensuring that everyone knows what it is like to get wet when it rains.

In these days of social media and AI, finding the fit and leading with dignity and grace is challenging and part of the MO of a teacher. Opening doors when traveling, pushing students to take chances and teaching tolerance and cultural understanding. Early mornings through winters cold, preparing assignments and driving home as darkness sets in to mark homework and set lesson plans is all part of a teacher’s day. How lucky we all are. Everyone has a teacher they remember from High School . Someone who made an impact on their lives. Someone who took the time to make a difficult day better. Thanks to teachers everywhere.  You make the difference every day and help create a better world.

Our annual Tour Manager event took place in Rome, my favorite city. Over 100 tour managers descended on this beautiful place and we spent a day discussing the 2024 season and our 2025 vision.

Our main themes were Global Travel, Sustainability and AI. Many tour managers were unfamiliar with Rome, so it was a chance for them to do some sightseeing, stroll the piazzas, refresh some history, and potentially prepare for trips down the road. Rome was all a sparkle, with its Christmas decorations giving London a run for its money. The nativity scene at St Peter‘s and the extraordinary Fendi building decorated like a Christmas parcel were highlights. The lights along the Via del Corso and the Spanish steps were spectacular and still, there were the chestnut sellers on the corner to remind us all of a time past. Christ Rams Market scene in the Piazza Navona is always fabulous. As Rome prepares for the Giubioleo in 2025, the monuments are slowly being uncovered after restoration. 

Tour Managers are the last and most extraordinary part of our sales and marketing machine, whether they are practicing their profession in central or South America, Japan, Africa, or Europe they bring the pieces together that ensure that our groups, our group leaders will return refer and repeat for years to come. They are the secret ingredient to ACIS. They are extraordinary. They speak more languages than we could all even think about and they love what they do.  80% of them do not work for us full-time. They have a whole pot of professions, incredible, interesting, and innovative. In addition, they take some time out to do this for a few weeks.

Some practice the art full-time. We are very lucky. Without the good hands and incredible care these guys bring to the job, we would be missing such a huge part of what we do. They transfer knowledge, they create an atmosphere of curiosity to encourage students to take chances, and to move outside of their comfort zone. Most importantly, they help to make the world a better place by creating an atmosphere of tolerance and adventure for tomorrow’s leaders.

The Tour Managers have 9 to 10 days to turn on a fountain of knowledge and curiosity. It’s one of the most exciting meetings that we do all year. Every year we move it around. Last year Lisbon this year Rome, the year before Barcelona and next year, who knows but one thing is for sure: this team of more than 100, helps transform our quality product into a magical experience that creates a thirst for thirst for travel. Nearly all of the students who travel on an ACIS trip will do a semester abroad. Most of them will speak or learn to speak a foreign language. Over this week, the students and their incredible teachers are witnessing an opportunity of a new adventure that they will look back on in years to come as a catalyst for something quite profound

Thank you to all of these remarkable people, as we face the new challenges of travel, move through the myriad of AI possibilities, and seek to make our country and our company evolve into a responsible travel provider amidst the challenges of global warming and sustainability. We have an exciting road ahead. As we move our product globally to take people to places new and exciting. We are looking forward to another fantastic year of Travel. Travel Changes Lives.

The journey to the border from Samarkand took about 45 minutes. From Samarkand you can see the glacier cap mountains due east. Our journey was to take us closer across and up those mountains. Tajikistan is mountainous. With glacial lakes and narrow winding roads through the mountains scattered villages. There seemed to be traffic jams of goat herds blocking the way along with mules laden with firewood.  It had an altogether different feel to Samarkand. It is a mineral rich country, and the people who live in the mountains adapt well to the rugged landscape, but it is a rugged landscape, and one can only imagine the winters here. Poplar trees were grown everywhere. They are fast to grow, and provide windbreak for the winter wind and firewood to keep the water hot. Streams and rivers are abundant because of the glacier drainage and provide a constant background of noise and fresh clear running water for the villages. Endangered species, such as the snow leopard, live up there in the mountains.

Once we had crossed the border, we took off in 4 x 4, and at some point, began the ascent on a seven-lake journey. The road at times seemed so narrow. It was impossible to imagine we could make the turn, especially when faced with an incoming vehicle, but we survived, just about, and the drivers were good. The roads were scary, and I would hate to have to drive that drive at night. We had one breakdown. We towed the car until the tow rope broke and then we left the car in a village to be retrieved another day. We had lunch in the village.

The hospitality was great. The food was fine and there is nothing I have quite experienced as primitive and as wonderful and welcoming as the people in that village. We made it to the seven lakes, took off our shoes and walked in the freezing water.  We went for a long, long hike and eventually made it back at dark. We joined the queue of people in the custom hall, come shack, waiting for a stamp on their passports to cross the border and head back into Uzbekistan. Tajikistan is visa free if you’re American or European. Crossing the border and presenting my American passport the guy looked up, smiled as if trying to imagine this place that I come from and stamped my passport.  I had just been to a country I did not know existed two weeks ago. Wow. 

We are off again on a high-speed train jaunt. This time to Samarkand. The train station in Tashkent was organized and well kempt and the train was on time.  The Spanish have supplied Uzbekistan with their Ave trains.  High speed with more luggage room than the TGV in France.  More speed and efficiency than the sluggish English trains and delightful services onboard.

Our arrival in Samarkand coming from Bukhara gave a sense of a much bigger city but much less modern than Tashkent.

We had arranged for a visit and sightseeing the following day but we still got to peak at some of the wonders that would great us as we entered ancient Samarkand. In many ways, everything here centers around Registan square. It’s three incredible mosques provide a picture postcard scene.

When we were there and it was Samarkand day, schoolchildren were dancing and singing in the square and we even hooked on to a few marriage ceremonies as we wandered around.  Entering the square, and then the ancient cloisters, the marketplaces revealed themselves.

The marketplace was within easy distance of Registan Square, an old covered market, selling fruits and dried vegetables and souvenirs.  And just like everywhere else in Uzbekistan, no pressure, a couple of girls came up to me in the square and asked me where I was from and asked me if I would wish their brother happy birthday as he was far away.

People wanted to talk, wanted to exchange ideas.  People wanted to be connected and you definitely got the feeling this country was desperate to open up and be part of our world.  This place is simply amazing. We got to see the observatory of Ulugh with its medieval beginnings.  At the end of the day, as the sun was setting the observatory seemed to be the right place to be.

Tomorrow we will rise early to visit Tajikistan.

The train station in Tashkent was quite modern. We had assigned seats, and the boarding was pretty smooth. The journey was to be around four hours. It was quite exciting to be boarding an Afrosiyob built with Spanish Talgo technology and capable of speeds of 155 mph. Imagine, I thought, if the UK had such possibilities!

The landscape through the windows was flat and I half expected to see caravan of camels crossing the steppes as if I had been time warped onto the ancient silk Road track. We were heading back through the centuries as it was. Bakhara was according to the guidebook, one of the great ancient beautiful cities of the world. We arrived, jumped onto the bus for a short transfer that left us just outside the old marketplace. It reminded me of the entrance to the Turkish bazaar in Istanbul, but from there, everything fell away. People were relaxed, not pushing, and we wandered with our suitcases through the ancient market enroute to one of the more delightful hotels I had ever stayed at. Nothing fancy, very open and the rooms surrounding a beautiful courtyard. I climbed to the top of the hotel terrace, you could see the mosques, and minarets that dotted the city. We had organized a guide to pick us up at the hotel. She was delightful and so our journey back in time began. We had lunch in a place she recommended, and the food was fantastic. And we walked and we walked, and we walked. We walked through ancient mosques and mausoleums, not so colorful more terra-cotta but as the sun dropped down, the sunlight bounced off the main square and it became a kaleidoscope of shades of soft evening light.

Bukhara is a city of small streets, ancient bazaars, beautiful mosques, and a city that is so perfectly contained within its borders that you feel you could spend two or three days there.  Yes, there were carpet traders because Uzbeky carpets made of silk are the most famous and treasured in the world. Here’s what amazed me. Nobody really tried to persuade us to buy. There was a magical moment in the bazaar when a shopkeeper picked up a typical Uzbeky musical instrument from his store and started to play it … just to play it, not to sell it. In my mind it was the jewel of Uzbekistan. More stunning because of its simple brick and terra-cotta and tiled buildings. There is a beautiful ornamental lake that sits in the center surrounded by tea houses. Figurines of camels surround the lake as a reminder that this was one of the great stopovers on the silk road. Today, it was my stopover, my oasis and I felt privileged to spend time here.

And so, it was. Uzbekistan. A country miles and miles away, with centuries of history and capitals that blow away the imagination. The Silk Road. Genghis Khan and Imir Timur.  Deserts and mountains and a civilization that has lived through a kaleidoscope of change. Cities that were on the natural trading routes for centuries. Samarkand, Tashkent and Bukhara. And here we were. In this magic kingdom of 36 million people that had defied the winds of time and escaped the tourist route.

We had arrived through a non-stop flight to Istanbul.  Ironically, the end of the Silk Road.  It was a short 4 and a half hours to Uzbekistan’s capital city, Tashkent. 

First impressions. Modern, overcast and chaotic and in rebuild mode. Post Soviet hangover, New Music Hall, open squares and beautifully designed and open spaces.  The omni present statue of Imur te Mur sits outside the hotel Uzbekistan.  A former Soviet hotel that has been spruced up to provide a light show in the evening.  The main open square by the arts and music center carries an extraordinary statue to commemorate the earthquake in Tashkent in 1966. It depicts a family shielding themselves as the earth opens up beneath them.  We went to the Khast Imam complex. 

The marketplace is one of the oldest in Tashkent. Linked to a myriad of canals and an old City that boasts bazaars and a different pace of life. We did sightseeing on foot and connected across the city using the amazing Metro which reminded me of the Moscow metro.  Hammer and sickle tiles had been dutifully erased!  Our delightful guide walked us and metroed us through this city and it was quite delightful.  It reminded me in the evening of Baqu with skyscrapers and light shows scattered around.  A good place to start.

We decided to base ourselves in St Remy, a beautiful town, not far from Aix en Provence that sits in the heart of Provence itself. For some bizarre reason, I had never been to Provence, so this was an opportunity to discover some of the heartland of this incredible place. We took in the big places like Arles and Avignon and Aix and the small areas that sit along the Luberon village path.

They are strung out like a necklace through the Alpille landscape. The highlight for me was probably a visit to a museum of antiquities in Arles on the other side of the river from the town itself and home to a 30 m , barge that had survived in the silt of the rhone river for 2000 years.  There were incredible mosaics and statues, and all the paraphernalia that you would associate with the first Province outside of Rome! Provence is home to lots of firsts. A papal first in Avignon where many popes resided for nearly 100 years.

The charming half bridge of nursery rhyme fame. My first French song!! And then there was just the wonder of all of the things around and about that the Romans came  to put down and I’m always reminded of the life of Brian and the Monty Python guys when somebody shouts out “what have you done for us lately“ and then somebody points out that the Romans not only built civilization, but they provided pretty much all of the stuff that we would take for granted in modern day life.  My favorite village was Roussilon, the stunning red ochre village with narrow streets that must’ve been used on a movie set somewhere in some film. Quite spectacular and the water wheel village of Isle de Sorgues where there were markets, not to mention the vineyards, the food and the people who were absolutely delightful and forgave my terrible French at every interaction.

The drive to Nice gave us an opportunity to stop and see the extraordinary Matisse Chapel in Venice before reacquainting myself with Nice and the buzz of the old town and the promenade along the cobblestone beach. You should try to visit all these places. These please are easy to get to, just a fast train ride to Avignon or Marseilles from Paris on the TGV and if you are lucky enough go see or stay in St Remy where Van Gogh  checked himself into the hospital there for a year. It’s a tranquil place and VG painted many of his finest works there.

Those of you traveling out there, the National Gallery in London has one of the largest and most sensational collections of VG to ever feature under one roof. It’s an exhibition that runs from now all the way through the end of January. Breathtaking. There’s a reason these guys came down to Provence. The light. The consistent flora and the sheer size of the Roman influence. And the mighty Rhône zig zagging down to the Camargue.