This weekend, I had the chance to see a wonderful rendition of the Tony Award-winning play,
Red, at Boston Center for the Arts. Based on the life of abstract painter, Mark Rothko, I couldn’t help thinking of the
Rothko Chapel in Houston, which I visited while doing a story for
The Boston Globe on the art scene in the city. While many of Rothko’s earlier works displayed layers of vibrant colors such as the red in the title of the play, these later paintings were monochromatic where black and dark brown predominate. Rothko’s emotions tend to carry over to his canvases and these were painful to view. I remember the works vividly almost a decade after seeing them. Often in travel, we search for the stupendous landscapes and exotic wildlife, but it’s the misadventures or a poignant moment in an unusual chapel in Texas that we often remember with more clarity. Here’s what I originally wrote for
The Boston Globe:
“My first stop was an octagonal-shaped yellow-brick building that looks like part of an elementary school from the 1950s. This is the Rothko Chapel. Prayer books from every religion line the wall of the entrance indicating that this place of sanctuary is non-denominational. Those familiar with Rothko’s vague rectangular color fields, painted with gently toned hues, will be shocked to see the 14 large canvases that encircle the somber room. Rothko suffered from serious depression, which is evident in these late acrylics, primarily black in color with light tinges of blue. He would end up committing suicide a year before the chapel opened in 1971. Any soul who feels the least bit anguished should take a seat on one of the four benches and stare into these monumental abstracts, knowing that someone else shares your pain.”
North of Freeport, Maine, fingers of land dangle down from coastal Route 1 to create miles of sheltered bays to paddle. One of my favorite spots is Georgetown, where I rented a room at Coveside B&B and had Seaspray Kayaking deliver an oceanworthy kayak to their docks. Careful not to start or end near low tide (or I’ll be digging for clams in the muck), I paddled south past the lobster boats to the Five Islands Lobster Company wharf. On the way, I spotted ospreys sitting atop their oversized nests, seals popping their heads out of the water like periscopes, and the distinctive orange beak of the American Oystercatcher. Then I turned around and headed north on Little Sheepscot River, sheltered from the surf by MacMahan Island. The boulder-strewn shoreline was draped in seaweed and topped with velvety moss, creating a soothing, shady retreat in the late afternoon hours. An image I hope to remember vividly come winter. 
A mere decade ago, Bonaire was known only to scuba enthusiasts—a coveted gem discussed in hushed conversations with other serious ocean lovers (types who come out of the water with seaweed in their hair). Now that the secret is out, travelers are learning that nature thrives here both above and below the water. The reef’s proximity to shore is ideal for divers and snorkelers who want to swim with blue and yellow queen angelfish and orange trumpetfish in waters with visibility of 100 feet or more. Bonaire’s semi-arid landscape is home to some 200 types of birds, including one of the world’s largest colonies of pink flamingoes, numbering some 15,000. Overlooking one of the island’s loveliest beaches is the