London Walks
It’s impossible for a parent to teach his kids a British history lesson, without Junior blurting out in the middle of the Anne Boleyn beheading story, “Oh yeah, that’s cool. Can we go to the London Eye now?” So I was relieved to find an outfitter aptly called London Walks that for a mere 8 pounds per person (children under 15 are free) can educate, entertain, and keep my family walking for two hours. We took two tours with them last week, Westminster and West End and the Tower of London. We were fortunate to have Tom Hooper as our guide on both walks. A former barrister, Hooper knows the history of the British Empire like the back of his hand. It also helps that Hooper is a wonderful orator with a booming voice and a penchant for digging into the sordid details. Like the beheading of Anne Boleyn, the beheading of King Charles the First, the beheading of Oliver Cromwell, after he died, no less. On the West End walk, we strolled from the Houses of Parliament to Westminster Abbey, all the way to Buckingham Palace, ending near Trafalgar Square. And my kids, ages 14 and 12, didn’t complain once. I quizzed them afterwards on how much they retained, asking them the names of the current prime minister and queen, and by God, they knew the answers. For that, Tom Hooper deserved to be knighted!
In 
The host of Tha Heua Me Guesthouse greets me with a smile on the porch and points to the simple meal prepared on the teak table beside her: sticky rice in a woven bamboo basket. I nod to her in ‘thanks’ – neither of us speaking the others’ language – take the rice, slip on my shoes, and begin my walk towards Sakkaline Road. The first rays of sunlight seep through the thick morning fog as I pass stately brick buildings adorned with plaited bamboo panels and balconies, the architectural vestiges of France’s colonial rule over Laos. Upon arriving at Luang Prabang’s main avenue, I am met by a long procession of barefoot monks in plain orange garb making their way through throngs of locals and tourists, all gathered at the crack of dawn to partake in a tradition that stretches back centuries. I kneel at the curbside with rice in hand waiting for an empty-handed monk to accept my offering. A few moments later, I am locking eyes with a young bareheaded man; his expression is at once one of gratitude and of poise. This will be the only meal he eats all day.
Fly 40 minutes from the domestic airport in Arusha over the Ngorongoro Crater and you reach Mwiba Lodge, the latest upscale property from 
After hearing about the 
I was delighted to receive word last week that