Dear Mavenettes,

It's no wonder that Hoopla surrounds your Travel Maven as she reports about her whimsical adventures around the world. From playing Tibetan Singing Bowls and staring at Ramesees' henna dyed hair in Cairo, to being Waldorfed in New York City and Petra-fied in Jordan, your fearless Travel Maven reveals all the juicy stories.

Since debuting on AOL with her own chat show, your Travel Maven has gained notoriety as being outrageous, adventurous, and wonderfully wacky. It's no wonder your little Maven has been invited to Mars where she'll hear Carol Channing debut in "Hello, Dolly!"

Always right up to snuff, your Maven likes to ogle readers with her reviews of fine properties, steamer trunks, 24-hour room service, personal valets, Prince Albert, and UPGRADES.

Join in the fun! Receive an autographed online photo from your Travel Maven. Become a Mavenette!

So let's relax already, enjoy a glass tea, and always with love &
knishes from your Travel Maven.

                       THE MAVEN YAKS IT UP IN TIBET
"CLIMB, MAVEN, CLIMB!" No, this wasn't Julie Andrews singing to the Maven, but rather the Maven's yak noodging her through the snow-capped Himalayas. The Maven, alighting from her trademark pogo stick, took note of her fellow adventurers springing up mountains with prayer flags and spinning prayer wheels. Never before had the Maven witnessed such joyful madness since she mistakenly wandered into a screening of the "Blair Witch Project" where all the actors mumbled through their sophomoric dialogue, and then died in the end. Coincidence? the Maven wondered.

"So, nu?" the yak asked or at least that's what it sounded like through the Maven's ear trumpet. At 17,000 feet no one is certain of what anyone is saying, let alone a yak so determined to steal the limelight that he could have been auditioning for Regis and Kathy "Me." 

"STOP SHLEPPING, MAVEN. CLIMB!" But the Maven was lost in reverie, wistfully thinking back to those dreamy times at the Regent in Hong Kong and Bangkok where she had her knishes and tea served on an eiderdown. This meant little to the yak that only wanted to brag about his accomplishments. "My dear Maven, did you know that I can climb to 20,000 feet and carry up to 1,200 pounds?" Enough yakking already, for now the Maven was getting a petit migraine. Of course she didn't want to tell him that yaks are also used for ropes, sacks, blankets, tents and (Maven holds her nose) dung for fuel. 

A certain melancholy gripped the hairy animal until the Maven reached into her Abercrombie and Fitch overnight bag, whipped out her CD player, and pressed the headset to one of his ears. Jolted from Cher's "Do You Believe In Love After Love?" a lovely tranquility took hold. "O-Ma-Nee-Beh-Me-Hom," the yak chanted, Tibetan for "I've Got You Babe."

Clearly no one back home on the Cote d'Azur would ever visualize that the Maven eventually hiked up 1,000 feet to the Drepung Monastery without so much as an "oy vey!" This so impressed Chanda, the Maven's knowledgeable Tibetan guide who brimmed with useful information such as the Drepung being home to the people of the "white, yellow and red hot sects." Predictably, the Maven clutched her ear trumpet (not to mention her heart) and asked the guide to repeat, please? "There are white, yellow and red hot sects Buddhists," he went on, but by this time a gaggle of foreigners had had it with the yak butter dripping on the floors and began crowding around. "Sects" a spoiler called out. "He means white, yellow and red HAT SECTS. Get it?" We got it and people dispersed as if this were a reject sale at Target.

All this was too much for the Maven who retired early that night, only to be visited by a hotel maid carrying a puffy pillow that had funny tubing hanging out. Obviously, this was the Maven's UPGRADE - a pillow with tubes. Disgruntled, the Maven undid the gadget and breathed in oxygen! Only in Tibet would "pillow talk" not mean what you think. 

Still, the Maven had come to explore this remote country of 6 million, a land bordering Nepal, India, Bhutan, Burma and China, and perhaps even more pertinent, a rural region known intimately as "Rooftop of the World." With a promise that perhaps a fiddler or two would appear, the Maven lured herself into leaving her country retreat in Monaco, specifically away from her once dear flame, Prince Albert. Not having been welcomed to the "Rooftop" with so much as a gaming chip, the Maven thought of Monte Carlo where she is a famed regular, and also of Prince Rainier's palace that once housed the fabulous Grace Kelly. Today, sniffs the Maven, there are no pictures of the Philadelphia actress to be found, only an aging Rainier who has unfortunately not heeded the Maven's advice of having a facial abrasion or even a consultation with Jennie Craig. 

But now the Maven is getting sidetracked and not telling you what you have been waiting to hear. What was the Maven wearing? Leave it to your Maven to create a striking appearance for the tour garbed in her REI gear -- fashionable khaki cargos, thermal synchilla sweater, Patagonia jacket and hiking boots that needed so many bandaids underneath that the Maven was walking on little pads instead of experiencing the real thing, as if one ever discovers the real thing in hiking. 

What a calamity to find, dear Mavenettes, that nearly everyone had on the exact same "uniforms." Well! Within a click of the Maven's steamer trunk, out came more suitable couture -- Armani leggings and Tommy Hilfiger mock turtleneck with Hum Vee-like shoulderpads. Just right for a visit at dawn to the Jokhang Temple, the most revered site of worship. 

"Bend down on the stone, dear Maven," came Chanda's unlikely request. "You must be joking?" the Maven replied, for since the stone was cold and the Maven had only some mittens from Tiffany, it was hardly worthwhile to get unsanitary for a little monument. However, once surrounded by hundreds of intent worshippers, the Maven suddenly looked upon praying as aerobic in content, and got into a Linda Evans-like squat. This reminded the Maven that since the actress' split with New Age performer Yani, the star now looks as ancient as someone from the Ming rather than the Spelling "Dynasty."

But don't tell this to any of the monks at the famed Potala Palace in Lhasa who care nothing for television stars, rap music, the Enquirer, or even Hillary and Rudy. Standing guard since the 7th century (okay, not these same monks), this monument is A-Number One with visitors who couldn't get enough of the Louvre and wanted to be the first on their block to brag that they had investigated all 1,000 rooms. Enough, already! Take it from your Travel Maven, if you've seen one, you've seen them all and that includes the yak butter candles, the stately buddhas and pictures of Dalai Lamas (so many!) which prompted the Maven to ask Chanda: "Will the Dalai Lama ever return?" The guide looked thoughtful. "No," he said. "The Dalai's not coming back. Richard Gere is." 

With love & knishes from your Travel Maven
Comments? E-mail: travlmaven@aol.com

         "MAVEN IS PETRA-FIED IN JORDAN"           

Petra, Jordan "Take off your glasses, please," the guard demanded and flipped through the Maven's passport and then asked, "Is that you?" His tone was a bit incredulous, but the Maven smiled sweetly. The guard squinted. 
"She used to be younger."
"Who used to be younger?" he asked.
"The Maven."
"Who's the Maven?"

Next came the predictable: "What is the purpose of your visit to Jordan?" "Tourism," the Maven uttered. Another official gazed at the Maven's passport. "And what is the purpose of your visit to Jordan?" 
A third guard peeked at the Maven's technicolor photo and said something that signaled the Maven's importance. "Come this way, Travel Maven," and the Maven picked up her overnight Vuitton, and a helpless porter carried her steamer trunk towards an official driver who pointed to his car whose trunk didn't seem large enough for the Maven's belongings.

Little did your Maven know that he was an outcast from a nearby driving school. On top of his car was a letter "L" meaning Learner, and as soon as the door was slammed shut, the wheels squealed, leaving many shepherds in the region to gather their goats up in a hurry before they were made into cheese which the Maven doesn't like, seeing that some animals may have been sacrificed, but then they'll never tell you the truth at supermarkets, anyway.

The Maven tried to render an opinion from the driver whose foot was now pressed to the floorboard and nearly touching the street. People spun by us wearing their traditional red and white kafiyas wrapped around their faces, looking like the Sand People from "Star Wars."

Petra, also known as the "Rose City," comprises the ruins of the rose-red capital of the Nabataean Kingdom from the 3rd century B.C. or really B.M. - before the Maven. Apparently the Nabataens led a nomadic life and settled in Petra that became the capital, and strategic position at the junction of trade routes linking China, India and southern Arabia with Egypt, Greece and Rome. These routes were far better value than ones linking California with Nevada, and it's a wonder that Petra stands today with all its mysterious tombs and caves. Writing has been found on these tombs, but people today argue over the language. Some say it was from the Assyrians, Greeks, or Esperantos. Other scholars say it was the first phrase in Arabic which read, "Someone is trying to make a Mummy out of me." Recent graphologists insist, however, that the language used must have been Ebonics. How else to account for the "Yo, Mama!" on one of the sacred tombs.

Then came a roar of horse hooves, and suddenly there were many riders on horseback and in chariots led by Charleton Heston who happened to be in the area that day. Suddenly the rains came, and a guard rushed to us and declared that this was a flash flood! No one believed him until furniture came crashing down and was swept away by the fierce tide. Fortunately, after a half hour of waterworks, our driver came to rescue us. Everyone was screaming for a ride, but we were whisked away by our Learner who had the radio blaring to some catchy Arabian tune. 

Since we were all a little nervous at our impending death, the guide began to talk about the history of Jordan. This is what guides do when they've got their visitors trapped. So while we passed people whose cars were doing the breast stroke in the newly-formed river, we were treated to a taste of culture.

The guide, who didn't stop for a moment on his history lesson, reminded us that Jordan has had enemies who wanted to destroy the country. 

"Maven, did you know we were taken over by the Crusaders?"
The guide droned on. The Maven paused.
"Yes, you just told us. Pity."
"And the Mongolians!" he cried out. "The Mongolians!"
Well, the Maven had had enough of self-pity and said to the guide, "Listen up. We Americans have been taken over, too."
The guide was baffled. "But we had the Mongolians! YOU didn't have the Mongolians."
"Oh yes," the Maven replied. "We call them in-laws." 
With love & knishes from your Travel Maven

Comments? E-mail: travlmaven@aol.com

MAVEN VISITS LIZ TAYLOR IN PUERTO VALLARTA

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. The good news is that the Maven was seated next to two bodybuilders who were wearing skimpy shorts and tank tops that showed their perfectly tanned bodies, full heads of hair, and trendy high heel thongs. The bad news is they were both twenty-five years of age.

"Surely you can't be headed for Mexico, Maven," commented Bod #1. "Cause how you're dressed," he continued. Not wishing to bring up an English lesson -- "Cause how you're dressed" is not a complete sentence, but seeing that he was sincere and probably flossed early this morning, the Maven examined what she was wearing. Sure enough, she had on a little Chanel wool business suit for 80 degree weather.

Bod #1 stared and then showed off his trendy Tommy Hilfiger duffel bag. "This is my trendy Tommy Hilfiger duffel bag," he announced to the Maven who had fumbled for her headphones and tapes of Ella Fitzgerald. Somewhere in space Ella was singing "A Foggy Day in London Town," even though we were not headed anywhere near London, and the stewardesses served Eggs Ranchero instead of gooseberries and double creme. 

But now the Maven was curious about what Bod #1 had in his satchel. Slowly, he brought out bottles of tequila and CD's with names sounding like Buck Naked and the Bluejays and tunes with questions like: "Are There Any Truck Stops in Heaven?" and "I'll Beat You Black and Blue Until You Say I Love You."

Bod #2 reached for his overnight bag containing his entire wardrobe for two-weeks: 1pair of shorts and 2 t-shirts. This was in great contrast to the Maven's steamer trunk for her long weekend journey, plus her latest Danielle Steel book about a heroine who gets lost in the Rockies and mistakes a park ranger for tofu. 

Once at the airport, the Maven spotted Maripepa Gonzalez, public relations guru at the Westin Regina. "Como estas?" she asked. Well, the Maven replied with what her Spanish teacher, Senor Wences, taught her back in 1929. "Muy bien." 

Now for Puerto Vallarta, a popular city filled with everyone speaking Spanish and remembering their most famous resident, Liz Taylor, who put the sleepy town on the map. Those were the days when she lived happily in her villa with Richard Burton who later became her husband, then her ex, then back again. 

Romance aside, Liz was the first movie star to discover Vallarta, but she probably did not do much with its natural hiking and mountain biking facilities. This is only a guess. There are primitive villages and exotic birds to watch. There's also a Sierra Madre Expedition through the jungle, a botanical safari in the foothills. Do we know if Taylor did any of this? Be serious. Can anyone imagine the glamour queen winding through the jungle with all those little insects, not to mention carrying a machete to cut down some brush? Now ask the same question of your Maven, and only Mavenettes know that the idea of a botanical safari would mean your Maven getting her all-white outfit dirty. OUT OF THE QUESTION! 

But the Maven managed to run into Liz in a very real estate kind of way when she took a personal tour of what was once her elegant hideaway, now reduced to a tacky B&B. Back in the 1960s when they were shooting "The Night of the Iguana," Liz and Dick lived elegantly in a 22,000 square foot mansion consisting of 12 bathrooms and 9 bedrooms. Does anyone think this is excessive? Raise your hands. 

The only thing that took away the Maven's dampened spirits was being taken to Bogart's, a celebrated restaurant named after the great actor and his memorable role in "Casablanca." So it's no surprise that a la carte featured dishes like "Bogie & Ingrid" which translate to filet of beef and Caribbean lobster tail. For added authenticity, the moment you walk in, you'll hear the refrain of "Tocala otra vez, Sam" - "Play it again, Sam." 

Wander around and you'll see walls with stills from the famous film. You'll be lifted into a far away land whose back-drop is the worn-torn Africa, and as you stare into the faces of the movie blow-ups and sense Bogie's anguish over losing Bergman, remember that they'll always have Paris.

Cuidado! Be careful, for now the Maven cautions about the entrance to Bogart's. There's a lovely pool in front, and while the water sparkles in the moonlight, if you're not looking, you may get more than your toes wet. When asked about this innovative design, one of the waiters told the Maven that several guests have tumbled right into the water, but not to worry -- it's not deep. The Maven had a good laugh, and upon her exit went kerplunk. But that's with love & knishes from your Travel Maven.

                  POR FAVOR: SENOR FROG'S ISN'T FOR SENIORS

Puerto Vallarta, Mexico: T-shirts featuring inebriated croakers dangle from the walls of Senor Frog's, one of the hottest nite spots in the town of Puerto Vallarta, now the #2 rated tourist destination in Mexico.

Puerto Vallarta has so much going for it like para-gliding over Banderas Bay, hiking the exotic foothills of the Sierra Madre, and your Maven's favorite, perambulating around boutiques that feature the artwork of Sergio Bustamante. If the name doesn't ring a bell, he is the one with the colorful sculptures of suns and moons gleefully hugging one another, and women in arks. No matter the selection, it's almost a sure thing that you will need your lorgnette to read the prices. Mostly they're filled with little zeroes at the end. 

"Oye," asserted the Maven (Oye is short for "oy vey" en espagnol.). The salesman called back "Ciao, Maven." Now where is the sense of saying goodbye when we were just saying hello? It didn't matter, for the Maven's mind already had taken a holiday back to those balmy nights where street vendors sold gelati and watermelon on the sidewalks of Rome. And then, of course, who could forget the frisky Italiano who tried to pinch the Maven on the Via Veneto?

With a quick adios (as the Maven needed to practice her Spanish), the night really belonged to the Screaming Maven, her rebellious teenage daughter, who scraped up a party of Britney Spears' wannabes who lived to act out the intellectual lyrics "Oops, you did it again." 

Cautiously, the Maven entered the premises of Senor Frog's, only to be greeted by an earth shattering blast of mariachi music, as grown men blared notes from their trumpets. "Wow, that guy is hot," remarked the young Screaming Maven to which your Maven spoke back, "Yes, it is quite hot in here." From there the evening slowly disintegrated, as the Maven searched for anyone over the age of eighteen. 

No use the Maven putting on her faux diamond lorgnette to peer at anyone or anything, when clearly this was going to be a long evening that somehow reminded her of "The Night of the Iguana," a movie that put Puerto Vallarta on the tourist map in the 1960s. Everyone remembers it was Liz Taylor who followed Richard Burton to the movie set every day, and refused to leave until all scenes between Burton, Ava Gardner, and a frisky iguana were over. Today it's Liz Taylor who trails Michael Jackson everywhere, and no one discusses iguanas any longer.

But why dwell on the past when a bevy of volunteers from the audience had rushed to play one of those witty dart games. Vaguely, with all the cigarette smoke shortening your Maven's air supply, did her mind retain a memory of eating Shepherd's Pie at a pub in Winchester with everyone playing darts and churlishly singing Elton John songs, wondering if he really had a shot at soccer once he retired. Are you daft? Yet here at Senor Frog's, once the game was announced, the Maven heard a girl bellow out, "Go for it!" It took some time to realize that she was really someone's mother. "I want to play" she whined, and then made a run for the stage.

"Break three balloons and you win a prize," the game show host explained to the contestants. The award? Either a papier-mache piggybank or a miniature bottle of tequila. Raise your hand if you know which one might have been chosen. One. Two. Three. The mother missed and had to surrender the darts, but decided to run around the stage until the host wrestled with her. The music blared. Tequila flowed. 

Just then the Maven had had enough and flagged down the waiter who took one look at the Britney Spears impersonators and began dancing with all of them. However, noting the Maven was about to have a breakdown, he motioned for a server who came up quickly and whispered something in the Maven's delicate ear. "Momento," the Maven responded, and noticed how impressed he was with the Maven's impeccable Spanish. As your Maven reached for the ear trumpet lodged in her Louis Vuitton bag, the man spoke into it. This is what he said, "WHAT DO YOU WANT, MAVEN?" 

There went the waiters again beginning the beguine with the teenagers or whatever it is they're dancing these days. Having had enough by this time, the Maven tapped the senor on the back. When he turned around, he had such a pleasant little look on his face that the Maven couldn't resist asking him to take her picture, por favor. After all, who would believe your five star Maven at Senor Frog's? "Si" he calls out, and disappears into the crowd with the Maven's famed Hasselblad. All was not lost as your Maven thought back to when the last waiter had snapped her picture. Of course. It was Monsieur Abdul in the Sahara Desert as your Maven mounted a camel and rode gleefully into the Moroccan sands. As the reverie faded, though, the Maven found herself frantic about locating her Hasselblad, and thought perhaps she should call 911, only who would answer?

Inexplicably, the head waiter returned with the camera, put it on the table, and then took from his pocket a handful of pink balloons that he made into a pink poodle. Without warning, he placed the doggie balloon hat on the Maven's head! Now everyone screams, "GET THE CAMERA!"

Before we know it, we're heading out the door and how many more times can the Maven say adios? The young Screaming Maven approaches. "We're coming back to Senor Frog's. Promise you won't be with us." The Maven promises. And with love & knishes.
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Comments? E-mail: travlmaven@aol.com

AEROFLOT DOESN'T MEAN "Floating on Air"
Travel Maven Goes To Russia

Sheremetyevo Airport, MOSCOW: The Maven, clutching a copy of Doctor Zhivago, was left at Moscow's Sheremetyevo's Airport by her sulking guide. Glimpsing around, the Travel Maven noticed that everyone was either arguing or in a hurry. How else to account for the Maven's lukewarm reception, never stopped once about little travel hints, including the latest steam iron which everyone needed from their outward appearance which shouldn't mar the inner beauty of Russians whose ancestors constructed Catherine The Great's Winter Palace, a fun place for Cathy who evidently rolled pieces of lapis into the snowballs.

But now it was cold in the airport, and while most Russians wore Siberian coats and matching boots, your Maven had on Armani shorts and t-shirt as she headed for the sunny shores of Tbilisi, the capital of the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic. 

Time for coffee? Perhaps not as the sign flashed from a huge neon board: TBILISI GATE 5. Passing through Customs yielded a frumpy worker who cried out "DA?" The Maven thought this was highly inappropriate as how can you say "YES" to a person if you haven't said hello or requested a name. 

The Maven handed him her passport. Usually officials smile as they say to your Maven, "This picture doesn't do you justice." Instead the Maven heard: "Ees not you! Nyet!" He shuffled over to the next queue where he held a mini-peristroika with a bystander whose cigarette stub ignited his fingers. 

An official finally stamped the passport but showed no desire whatsoever to ask about your Maven's time spent in the USSR, her overall impressions, and to wish her bon voyage in the joyful Tbilisi which happens to be one of the old USSR's major academic and scientific centers. 

But what's this at Gate 5? The sign blinked UZBEKISTAN. What?? Of course your Maven inquired at the counter. A woman wearing a faded uniform and smoking a strong cigarette down to the ground shook her head. "Nyet" was all she said. Luckily the Maven found a French guide who had an adoring circle of people surrounding him.

"Ou est Tbilisi?" the Maven cried out in her best French. The man looked up with a familiar smile. "Ah, La Maven!" he called. "Tout le monde - Voici La Maven!" As everyone surrounded your Travel Maven, for a moment she blotted out being frisked emotionally at Customs and the looming Uzbekistan sign.

If you're keeping score, the official gate was 44, but the trouble did not end there. As the Maven headed for her seat number 21A, she found a person occupying it. Politely, she asked if there was some mistake. That's when the passenger handed a few Ruble to the stewardess. End of discussion. Your Maven was dismissed to the back of the plane where two guards were thrust outside the bathroom doors just in case anyone wanted to go in. The flight was four hours. 

The pilot mumbled something in Russian (pity) and then took off kamikaze-style. A stewardess made the rounds with water pumped from the faucets of Aeroflot, as several travelers jumped into the aisles and on armrests. Just then the man in front of your Maven pushed a button and his seat reclined into her lap. "Previette!" your Maven called out. "Hi." 

What more to say? Oh yes, the Maven's seat belt snapped. "Nyet problema" exclaimed the air hostess. But there was. It still didn't buckle, but that didn't bother the people spread out on the floor playing Gin Rummy. To round things off, the Maven's seat mate fell on her en route to the bathroom whose doors were unprotected, since the guards were now dealing cards. 

"Previette!" the Maven said to the person in front of her who once again lowered his seat. The stewardess came by with more tainted water. At this point why ask if there were any Carr's biscuits.

An unidentified voice came over the loudspeaker as we landed in Tbilisi. Voyagers draped themselves on friends' armrests, while others kept the tray tables lowered and reclined their seats into their neighbors. A stranger lunged across the Maven in hopes of seeing Rustaveli Avenue, the city's attractive thoroughfare filled with decorative gardens and squares. Arriving at the gate, the man in front of your Maven leaned back and remarked in perfect English, "I hope your flight was pleasant."

With love & knishes from your Travel Maven

MAVEN BOBS UP AND DOWN IN THE DEAD SEA
Travel Maven reports from Israel

THE DEAD SEA, ISRAEL: It was Cleopatra who told your Maven all about the rewards of bobbing up and down in the Dead Sea. "You'll feel like dancing the hora from all that rich black mud," she told the Maven. Yes, but would this (and a knish) lead to meeting a man like King Herod? "Haven't you been keeping up with my e-mails?" Cleopatra cried out. "If you had, you would have known King Herod took his mineral baths in the Dead Sea." 

"And what of the Queen of Sheba?" your Maven inquired. "'SHE-BAAH,' you mean," breaking her name into syllables. "The queen liked it for 'therapeutic bathing' if you know what I mean." And now the question all Mavenettes want answered: So what did Cleo think of Liz Taylor who portrayed her in the movie? The reply was something about an asp, but it was unclear as to whom or to what she was referring.

Biblically speaking, so all right, publicists may not have been there 4,000 years ago to promote the Dead Sea as a vacation spot, but it continues as a place famous for its health cures and relaxation. The next time you go, you might see your Travel Maven kicking back in the sulfur pool of the Sheraton Moriah Dead Sea Hotel, and soothing away her AOL headaches in the inhalation room.

For those suffering from psoriasis, arthritis, or back pain, one of the best remedies is floating or just bobbing up and down in the Dead Sea. Although experts say there's no possibility of drowning due to the high salt content in the water, still your Maven comes prepared with water wings, wristbands, and an ear patch. One can't be too sure is the Maven's motto.

Another benefit is that you are practically guaranteed a good night's sleep with all the concentrated bromine in the air. And with 50% more magnesium than in the ocean dear Mavenettes, your skin will become like the Maven's - toned and refreshed.

Of course Sara at the Sheraton's Beauty Shop has a lot to do with it. A wonder woman who rumor has it once treated the Queen of the Nile, the aesthetician analyzes faces with a magnifying mirror that highlights every crevice as though it were copied from a Fodor's map.

"Maven, do you see THESE?" Slowly, your Maven holds up the mirror and gazes at the vision staring back -- an aging thespian whose lines seem to run together both off-stage and on.

"We don't have a moment to spare, Maven! Put this on." And so on went a special masque of herbs and oils. "Jodie Foster had this same treatment, only she demanded to wear sunglasses so the fans wouldn't recognize her," Sara explains. The Maven muttered through the masque: "Foster Grants?" Sara pressed on. "Finally I told her, 'Look here, Madam, if you do not remove these spectacles I cannot work on you. And by the way, who are you?'" 

It's been ninety minutes when she holds up her magnifier and proclaims: "Everyone come see how wonderful the Maven looks. Of course, you should have seen her before I started." She takes a pencil and outlines all the places previously decorated with crinkles. 

"What do you think NOW?" she asks. "Yes," they murmur. "YES!" She shines a bright light on your Travel Maven's face. "You can't see those deep lines anymore, can you? Of course not!" As if there were ever any doubt.

With love & (Dead Sea) knishes from your Maven

TRAVEL MAVEN'S "DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT" LIST

The Maven, never one to croak with boredom, can't believe the so-called travel experts who've compiled those "Don't Leave Home Without" lists that include the obvious - your passport and tickets. Such banalities have driven your Maven to jotting down her own "Don't Leave Home Without" list signed with love & knishes.

1) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A STEAMER TRUNK. Why, you might ask, if you were going to Hawaii or Mexico would you need a trunk load of clothing? The answer is simple. Remember when your mother warned that if you were hit by a car and had to be rushed to the hospital, your underwear should be clean as people would be looking at you if you know what I mean. So what else is the trunk good for? Why to carry over the Maven's Manischewitz for that nip at night. The advice must be catchy for one Mavenette carted over an entire steamer filled with bottles of scotch! Everyone thought she was dotty, of course, but then lined up for a nightcap making her the most popular person on tour. And all because of a steamer trunk.

2) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A TRAVEL IRON OR STEAMER. One can never have enough "Steam Heat" as they say on Broadway. Your companion may poke fun of your idiosyncrasies, but then later apologize and ask, if you wouldn't mind, ironing her skirt for instance. Of course most men do not care if they have horizontal creases in their shirts and pants, and will undoubtedly opt for running the hotel shower. Will that do the trick? Don't ask. Just take the steamer, already!

3) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT EARPLUGS. We all need to block out noise, especially from small, menacing children who run up and down the aisles of airplanes screaming their heads off while you're trying to work the New York Times crossword. Then there's the problem with snorers. Should they be in the next room or even on the pillow near you, their cacophony may be equal to ongoing traffic. What to do if you can't plug up your ears? Let's not forget to include those tourists with their incessant chatter about missing their children when they don't, or repeat everything the guide has told them in all languages. "Feh!" the Maven says. Just hum a few bars of Mantovani. Let them need earplugs.

4) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT PEPTO BISMOL. Enough said.

5) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A STOCK OF OPRAH'S BOOKS. For those travelers catching the rays by the pool or ocean, there's nothing like showing off your savoir-faire with a bestseller from Oprah's Book Club. It's amazing how your Maven has been approached so many times by the pool in her Speedo-for-seniors bathing suit. Only once did she resort to rudeness, and that was when an insolent passerby blurted out, "What a dreadful selection!" Your Maven closed the book snappily in his face.

6) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A SET OF FAKE "PARTY EYES." This gadget fits over your eyes and makes you look as though you're paying attention when you're really so filled with ennui that you'll even watch another Sylvester Stallone movie and not complain. With those fake eyes, you'll always look like you're on the ball and taking in the scene when you're really snoozing behind closed doors as Kenny Rogers would say. For years your Travel Maven fooled many a guide into thinking she was watching them intently until one asked how she liked his tour. Your Maven responded with a "Tres bien!" "No, muy bien," he corrected for after all the Maven was in Spain.

7) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A STACK OF $1 BILLS. With the exception of Tibet where village people stared at the $1 bill your Maven waved in front of them (and they responded with a wave of their prayer wheels), almost everyone accepts the dollar. Undeniably, it's the most interchangeable currency in the world and can pay for cab rides, something for the maid, and for very tiny souvenirs such as a piece of gum in Italy.

8) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT BUBBLE WRAP. So many times the Maven has bought fragile items only to find them crushed upon arrival. The last time this occurred your Maven was in Puerto Vallarta listening to a sales clerk who swore the memento (a colorful clay horse) would not be damaged. "No, senora!" she promised. "No problema." Well, it was a problema when the horse arrived headless sounding like something out of a Washington Irving tale. Had "la senora" lugged over the bubble wrap, this wouldn't have happened.

9) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT A PACK OF MARLBOROS. These cigarettes came in handy in Russia when your Travel Maven essayed hailing a cab. Driver after driver whizzed by waving their hands. Or maybe it was their fingers. That's when your Maven reached into her trendy Vuitton bag and whipped out a pack of Marlboros and presto! Taxi drivers screeched to a halt in their tracks or potholes as the case may be in Moscow. Think what a carton of cigarettes would have produced for the Maven. 

10) DON'T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT YOUR MAVEN! 

MAVEN'S ORIGIN OF TRAVEL SAYINGS            

BON VOYAGE! Doesn't it seem odd that everyone says this when leaving to go somewhere? The phrase is so universal that The Maven was told "Bon Voyage!" in Russia, although maybe that's not what they were really saying. By now, if we could eavesdrop on good-bye conversations on other planets, we'd probably not notice the alien's mouth but their hands. Why? From all science fiction movies the Maven has seen, extra terrestrials wave good-bye with their pinkies causing the Maven to believe that a pinkie by any other name is still a pinkie. 
But where was the Maven? Yes, the origin of travel sayings. It turns out that the first person to utter "Bon Voyage!" was a veterinarian! Yes, the good doctor wanted to say something clever in front of the dog's master, and as she about to leave he called out "BONE voyage!" The problem was that the owner did not speak French and couldn't pronounce "bon." Make no bones about it.

COME FLY WITH ME! Airline executives are always taking credit for initiating this phrase when came from Frank Sinatra. The Maven knows it was Frank as she was one of the original bobby soxers who attended his concert a century ago at the Paramount Theater in Brooklyn where he warbled an invitation to travelers ~ "Come Fly With Me!" 
Later on when the crooner was asked whether he ever wooed someone with this song, he said yes, he had, but added at the time he was piloting a small engine plane. Trust the Maven. Never, never did Sinatra take flying lessons. Undoubtedly, he got his serenading mixed up with "I Get A Kick Out Of You" which, incidentally, had its own travel lyric ~ "Come fly with me, let's take off to Peru," thus making those in Llama-land exceedingly grateful.

GO FLY A KITE! Since you follow the Maven's logic, isn't it fairly obvious who wrote this? You're right. Benjamin Franklin. Although there weren't planes at the time, Franklin managed to save some frequent flier points for his kite expeditions. Unfortunately, he never realized that he couldn't really go anywhere with them as he scampered up and down the frayed streets of Philadelphia releasing his kite into the air. As a result, his incessant squinting bothered some members of the Continental Congress who thought he was up to no good. Truth is, who knows what else the great man could have invented if he were not interrupted by government busybodies. No wonder he told them, "Go fly a kite!" 

SLOW BOAT TO CHINA: Can anyone imagine taking a slow boat to China? What with prices coming down in cruising, your Maven believes this is possible but still, who wants to plod along the Yangtzee when there's the Mediterranean. 

But now let's examine as few of the song's words, especially the beginning phrase of "I'D LIKE TO GET YOU on a slow boat to China." The former eliminates any romantic intention as it could imply force which the Maven isn't into. Then, what to make of "melting your heart of stone." Surely no Romeo would have said this to his girlfriend unless she were Sharon Stone. A possibility.
With love and knishes. 

THE TRAVEL MAVEN DOES THE LOUIS LOUIS AT MEXICO'S IL TAMARINDO

Cihuatlan, Jalisco  MEXICO:                     

Eco-tourism is not exactly part of your Travel Maven's vocabulary as she prefers sheer luxury to forests and bugs, but all this changed when her Mexican sister, Maripepa Gonzalez, invited her to Il Tamarindo, one of Starwood's newest upscale resorts.  

As many times as your Maven implored Maripepa to explain what a tamarindo is, the best description was a fruit potion you squeeze into a drink.  And the best place to buy it is in Barra de Navidad, a popular seaside town near Manzanillo.  While there, don't forget to take home a t-shirt which is as well made as those Egyptian ones the Maven purchased in Cairo at the outdoor souk where they sell exotic oils with names like Cleopatra and King Tut.  

For those ready to taste something new in your drink like tamarindo, your Maven suggests flying immediately to Manzanillo, and then driving to Barra de Navidad.  A note of caution: If you've never gotten behind a wheel in Mexico, the experience is similar to the one you've had navigating around the streets of Paris while clinging to your rosary beads.

But of course your Maven was really headed for Il Tamarindo Golf Resort located on Mexico's Costalegre where exquisite beaches and tranquil bays line the Pacific Coast of Jalisco.  Maripepa delighted in pointing the way, but now your Maven wanted to relax and hang out as they say in Greenwich Village's Café Wha?  But not before hearing that the property is a staggering 135 miles long with ten miles of beaches.  

Once you arrive, you're in the midst of a tropical forest with 900 acres of vegetation.  There you'll be choosing from twenty-nine villas all with the same sounding name.  There's Palm Tree Bungalows, Garden Bungalows, Beach Front Bungalows, and Forest Bungalows.  A little  too "eco" for your Maven.  Palapas or thatched palm roofs cover each one, and all accommodations include a private pool to which the Maven can only add a little muy bien.

As your Travel Maven was about to take a dip, Maripepa whisked her off to the 18-hole championship golf course.  Guests staying at Il Tamarindo pay $100 for their green fee, and then get to drive their carts over unsuspecting crabs that are either crabbing about the holes or frantically maneuvering sideways to the ocean.

As your Maven approached the first hole, she started to swing and heard a little squeaky voice.  "Keep your head down, Maven!"  Once more, the Travel Maven grasped her Seven Iron, but the tone only grew louder.  " DOWN, Maven!"  The little Maven did as she was told, only to come face-to-face with Crab Louis who regarded the Maven through googly eyes.  Mystified, your Maven reached into her golf bag and pulled out her lorgnette.  "Why press a lorgnette to your eyes, Maven, when everyone knows that with a Lasik operation, you can be done with glasses once and for all."  

It's then that golfers in carts lined up behind your Maven and began clearing their throats.  This is what golfers usually do as they're more civilized than rugby fans who might wrestle you to the ground if you don't move along. Your Maven begrudgingly moved along with Crab Louis offering tips about slicing or hooking for those desperate to outsmart the challenging course.  (If you're wondering, your Maven had a 90.  Not bad for the first nine.)

At Il Tamarindo, due to the excessive crab population, golfers can get a "Crabbie" versus a "Birdie," but then the resort being "eco" gets its share too.  Crab Louis knows the venue well having taken a little break at the Spa Hut to relieve tension, and is saving up for the room rate that begins at $300.  For that amount, why not throw in a trip to the nearby Turtle Camp and then one to the exotic birds over at Isla Pajarera.  As you can see, your Maven has quite a grasp of her Espagnol.

But now it was evening time and there were people coming in from kayaking and snorkeling.  One tourist had a boom box but was told to keep it down, por favor.  A salsa beat came on and if you looked closely, you would have seen the Maven dancing with her new partner.  The macarena, you ask? Try Louis Louis. 
With love and knishes from your Maven.
##

MAVEN KICKS UP HER HEELS AT THE KARMINA PALACE

Manzanillo, Mexico: The Maven couldn't resist an invitation to check into a luxury suite (Upgrade!) at the Karmina Palace, where the lively Mexican bellhop deposited her Vuitton trunk in one of the two capacious bedrooms.  Having been fitted with a gaudy blue-colored plastic (!) bracelet to indicate your Maven was an honored guest at the all-suite hotel, he began illuminating all the niceties.  "It is 890-square feet, you know," he said proudly, pointing to the expansiveness of it all.

As he heaved the Vuitton trunk, he turned over the airline tag that disgracefully was marked "HEAVY" by some clerk in the airlines. The man looked around to nowhere in particular.  "Pity not to have this room for guests?" he asked with a question mark.  "You know, you can fit six people in here."  What?  The Maven was becoming rankled.  How could one indulge with five other people poking about and invading your Maven's privacy?  "And you can see here, Maven, there's even a petite (which he pronounced "pet it") kitchenette."  Of course the young man had no way of knowing, but he was nearly asked to leave over that remark, for the Maven had no intention whatsoever of cooking.  Mavenettes, por favor, how would that have been a holiday?

…"Hola Maven."  Your Maven's attention was waning.  Still, he continued.  "There are three televisions…" The Maven stopped him.  "Please put on the American Movie Classics channel, senor.  It's the Maven's absolute favorite or perhaps favourite if you were from England, but clearly you are from Mexico, so perhaps this is a wasted comment."  The man did not respond.  "What I need to find is a Katharine Hepburn movie.  You do know she died, young senor man?"  Once again, he looked baffled.  "Oh, sí, senora," but the Maven could tell he would rather be talking about Cantinflas, or perhaps the film about "yo mama."

Since there was a lull in the action, the bellman dramatically opened the drapes, and it was then that your Travel Maven was treated to a breathtaking view of the Bay of Buena Esperanza.  "This means good hope," he translated.  "Of course, you may wish to go for a swim in your own plunge pool and there it is."  Incredibly, the Maven felt like dipping her feet in right then, but why make an indecisive splash when there could be more.

"More, Maven?"  He lightly laughed, for here at the Karmina Palace there was more of everything: Three restaurants and a disco, eight swimming pools, a private 425-foot sandy beach cove, motorized sports, spa and fitness center, tennis and golf, amphitheater featuring theme-night dinners and live shows, 24-hour room service, plus five bars.

"Five bars, young senor?"  The man nodded and pointed to one in the distance.  Quickly your Maven reached for her lorgnette.  "Ah, I see, senor."  "Sí?" he asked.  "Yes, sí!"  Was the man becoming impudent or was the Maven feeling giddy?  The bellhop nearly was ready to dash, but then remarked something about a tall, cool margarita.

As the Maven strolled along the beach and watched as people attached funny looking contraptions to their heads and nozzles to their mouths, the Maven couldn't be bothered as the sun baked down.  Scanning the swimmers was another matter.  Some had on mismatched two-piece suits from what the British would call an elephant sale, while others donned those alluring beach costumes seen only in the most fashionable gazettes.  Pity many of the bathers were quite stout, but this is only a passing remark in view of the Maven's engaging Kate Spade ensemble that any Mexican would have proclaimed "muy chic." 

The Maven sipped away until a lady kayaker offered to paddle her around the Mexican Pacific.  Could the Maven take on the margarita?  Just a little light banter.  As soon as the vessel neared the Carioca restaurant, the Maven was asked to help the kayaker as it were.  "Do you mean I should paddle?" the Maven asked.  "Well, it wouldn't hurt, Maven" came the tart reply.  Within minutes, the Maven was brought to the shore where an attractive member of the staff presented her with a little pick me up.

Your Maven's adventures couldn't get much better as she settled into her soaking tub with crystals that were labeled Strawberry Surprise.  The only real surprise was that it did not bear the name Dolce & Gabbana.  Overlooking this calamity, the Maven was struck with all the marble that filled the room.  And then another idea loomed.  Since your Maven had two baths, she thought of returning to the second one after her first night out.

And wouldn't you know what the night out would bring, dear Mavenettes?  Swirling around the dance floor of the Carioca restaurant brought your Maven only admiration and good wishes.  Well, it could have been the afterglow from the chiffon gown by Valentino or your Maven's silver-ring sandals by Manolo Blahnik from Bergdorf.  Nevertheless, there was your Maven kicking up her heels at the Karmina Palace, and being asked to salsa dance by a line-up of fetching senors. 

Several liquid refreshments later, and your Maven was prone on her back with one of those spa experts peering down at her.  "Senora, you've had too much sun," she reported without even addressing your Maven as Maven.  Weary from criticism, You-Know-Who had to contend with the uncivil remark until she felt a cool sprinkle on her face.  "It's our Cooling Aloe Spritz," volunteered the spa health and fitness expert. At least that's what they're calling them these days.  "It's for those who have long been exposed to the sun."  It was the word "long" that the Maven objected to.  "So, senora..."  "Maven…"  "Senora Ma-ven, this treatment will leave you soothed and refreshed.  Would you like that?"  The Maven nodded and then sipped her margarita.
With love & knishes from your Maven.

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