Tag: Consulting

Moving to Europe during Covid-19; Becoming poor and homeless in New York City.

After the success of my first book, Unbreakable Mind, endless projects were offered to me but none were a good match. There were many extremely attractive proposals. One was a second book, traveling to ten cities in the world, writing from an injured person’s perspective; an additional for NYT, to travel to 52 countries in 52 weeks, in a wheelchair; and, yet another, to create a travel TV show – but not any were the right fit, not one idea resonated with my soul.

Which avenue to further explore remained unclear until one fateful conversation in early May. I was on the phone with a friend from Amsterdam, a Norwegian-Dominican up-and-coming rap star, David AKA Big Mill, and he had an idea to share. “David,” I asked, “let me guess, another TV show idea.” He replied, “Yes, but this one is distinct.” Well, it was unlike all prior options – different to the point where I loved it. It made sense; it clicked with me – it felt right inside.

The other missing pieces to the puzzle would fall into place shortly thereafter. The morning of the 14th of May, my birthday, for some reason I was nudged to write an old classmate and friend, Adam, now living with his wife and four-year-old in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. He was recently laid off as an AV Director, a high position in the non-profit world of museums, now in search of a project to develop. I shared my idea for a new travel TV show with him and the rest is history.

After a seven hour conversation, going over every detail possible for how the project could ostensibly work, determining key people and positions needed to make a production company and TV show successful, and agreeing on a pilot location abroad (Amsterdam), we were off to the races. Since Covid-19 has affected so many business-people and investors globally, we were unable to raise the necessary funds. All agreed, signing on to the project on a shoestring budget.

One week later, with all airplane tickets and hotels reserved, my wheelchair supercharged by Gary Gilberti and his amazing team at Numotion Mobility, we were set to start filming pilot footage in Amsterdam in July and August. As I already live part-time in Amsterdam, I was planning on moving to Europe for two to five years. With everything [assuredly] in place, and not being a fan of storing items that others less fortunate could better utilize, especially during a global pandemic, I decided to give away my home, car, all my belongings to those in dire need.

What type spiritual person or leader would I be if I did not practice what I preached, helping others in life anytime one is able, truly living out the words I guide and ask of others to live, if I cannot do so myself? There was no need for me to store away furniture, clothing and other household items while others in my immediate presence were suffering from the current health and economic catastrophe. For two weeks friends and strangers came and took what they wanted.

Everything was going fine, just as planned. My home was donated, flights ready, bags packed and ride to airport sorted. Before flying out to Europe I planned to spend four days in NYC with an old friend, Georgie-boy, who lives across the Hudson River in Jersey City. George is an old and dear classmate from my irascible undergraduate days at Rutgers College; also the General Counsel for our production company. He has a thriving law practice in nearby Newark, NJ.

It was great to be back in NYC, my old stomping grounds in the late 1990s. There is nothing like “The City” – one of a kind, no other place like it on the planet.  We spent an afternoon sunning on the spacious waterfront in Hoboken, NJ, a nice day playing Frisbee in Central Park West, eating amazing Mamouns Falafel and Prince St. Pizza in Greenwich Village. Though it was expected to see murals and damage from prior fortnight’s rioting, it was eerily strange in person.

It was Sunday, a day of respite before flying to Europe on Monday. George and I spent the day having a relaxing lunch at Iberia outdoor café in the Little Portugal section of Newark, NJ. The next morning we were up bright and early, soon off to the airport. When we arrived at Newark International Airport it was nearly empty. There was not but one person at the check-in counter – moi. The Delta terminal was empty. It was June 15th and Covid-19 was in full effect. Wow!

Having never seen such a normally super busy airport terminal this empty in my life, it did not give me pause. George, on the other hand, had a different feeling, and decided to stay with me until I was ticketed to board. After finding a way to get my heavy bags checked in with no fees I thought we were on plan. Then a hiccup: “Sorry Mr. Quigley, you are unable to board the flight to Amsterdam. Dutch Immigration in Holland is denying you entry without proper permission.”

Well, that was a first, and not only a huge surprise but a major setback to a monumental project.  Oh shit! What do I do now? Thank goodness Georgie stayed with me; and thank goodness he was able to put me up at his place until this mess was all sussed out. It was an absolutely horrid situation; and to add salt to the wound, I was right smack in the middle of a Covid-19 USA EU political Visa predicament; whereas the EU would review country entry list every two weeks.

George was gracious enough to see me through the immediate emergency until it began looking like my delay would be a bit longer than originally anticipated. The EU placed a travel ban on Americans’ travel to Europe. And it would not be reviewed again until July 1st.  My new ticket was issued for a direct flight from JFK, NY to Amsterdam, Holland, July 1st. This being the case, and since George had a life to live, I moved to a Hilton close by to JFK airport in Queens.

What started as a journey by giving away all my belongings in order to chase a dream project and move to Europe was swiftly turning into a situation that could easily result in me becoming poor and homeless in NYC. Hotels are not cheap in NYC – nothing is inexpensive in the Big Apple – you pay through the nose. The costs were quickly adding up and what small financial safety net I had set aside was speedily disappearing. I could not last long in a hotel in Queens.

The hotel itself was of no help to my stress and anxiety levels. They had me on the sixth floor, all the way down the hall, in the far corner, in a room that was a very tight fit for a wheelchair, and could only be reached after struggling down one hundred twenty feet of carpet. As if that was not enough, one week into my stay the GM, Tracy Kass, awoke me early in the morning to inform me I would reach my 14 day hotel stay limit after this registration renewal, and she was calling to inform me they could not extend it any further. I was astounded, appalled. Unbelievable!

Miss Kass, later when challenged, changed her story, informing me I did not let her finish, she had more to say on the call – that there was, in fact, no 14 day limit. Three days and three voicemails later, and no reply arrived from the normally overly pugilistic General Manager. Only once it was elevated to Hilton Honors corporate office level did she return my call. This was after numerous emails asking her to send me a copy of the policy. She refused. It does not exist.

Upon complaint to NY State AG, their attorney replied that I did not let her finish, that it was actually a 28 day limit. That is total utter bullshit! Firstly, then why call me only after seven days? Secondly, I met two people outside the hotel who received the same inhuman treatment. Thirdly, all her staff, including her Director of Operations, apologized profusely to me in person for her insensitive, cruel call. It should be noted that all other staff were caring and supportive.

Later that week, while in the bathroom, the grab-bar broke off from the wall while attempting a toilet transfer, sending me straight onto the hard tile ground, injuring my neck and back. Do you think the hotel or GM did anything to help address the issue, let alone make some changes to mitigate a more comfortable stay? No! The room was a disaster for a wheelchair user. My stay in Queens was quickly morphing into its own mini crisis. I was stuck in a cement jungle without any stores. I had only one friend to assist me – Sunita in Boston. Hilton corporate has yet to reply.

With every door opening but quickly closing, I was running out of viable options, rapidly. The immediate future looked grim.  Running out of money (and patience), with no home to move to, with no home to return to, life was proving overly difficult. It allowed my mind to get the better of my heart, lulling it into anxiety, sadness and no hope for the future. Life was grim; I was not a happy camper. After nine years of struggle, I figured this project would run smoothly. Silly me!

After time searching deep inside, meditation and prayer, chats with mentors, close inner-circle friends and spiritual advisors, I decided that I would face the universe’s tests head on. It was time to truly practice my words – taking my hands off the wheel of life, as the universe has it under control. It was another example of ‘Doing The Dirty Dishes’ of life – the Buddhist principle that if you want to get anything done in life you first must put in your effort, getting your hands dirty.

In May, when the project began coming together, one night while deep in meditation, an angel came to me and told me: “Steven, after 46 years of white-knuckling the wheel of life, you can now finally remove your hands [from the wheel], let go, give up control of life (as if you ever had any in the first place) – the hardest lesson for most to learn, aside from reaction and attitude, or living through love – I am now at the wheel, in full control. Wake up each morning and relax.  Forget about your past; do not worry for your future; live in the present moment – the now.”

It all sounded great until I awoke on June 15th, only to be denied entry to a plane that represented my life’s work and dreams. Or did it!? What was the universe trying to tell me through stranding me in NYC? What was the lesson? It did not come at first, but it did not take long to figure it out. The universe was sending me bigger struggles to overcome. Why? 1.To truly test if my hands were off the wheel of life, wholly trusting in the universe 100% ; and 2. At length, it still had to break and broke me before my dream could be realized. I am grateful to both my teachers, the universe.

Three days later a friend from Portland Maine came down to NYC to rescue me. As soon as I stepped into her car I felt an immense 800 lb gorilla freed from my back. Off to Maine.

To be continued….Click here to read part II.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

Santiago, Chile with UPenn: Vibrant, colorful and Bohemian, a delightful country I shall visit again.

It would not be my first trip to South America. In years past, many a day was spent on the prominent avenues of Buenos Aires, Argentina. However, it would be my first trip south injured in a wheelchair.  A graduate student at University of Pennsylvania, as part of their MSOD program, I signed up for a course taught in Chile – meant to give students a better understanding of one of the most thriving economies in South America. So many questions arose in my head: How would the flight go; what will the hotel room and bathroom be like; how accessible is Santiago; will I be able to attend all planned program events; will they accept my injury and be helpful, and most of all, how will my overall experience be in Chile?

At first, UPenn did not want to allow me to sign-up for the course. Alan Barstow, Director of MSOD, was not in favor me attending the trip, suggesting perhaps I choose another course.  Horrific discrimination aside, I laughed off his ignorance and sought the permission of the professor, who ultimately had the final decision. He was an intelligent jolly German who, after a short conversation on the phone, granted me permission. After all, he would be facing all the same concerns as me. I have since left the program. If you are a well connected tier-four school student with a 2.3 GPA but are willing to pay, they will find you a spot. I went there to be surrounded by the brightest minds, not the dullest money could buy.

After all, upon writing this article, the program has gone downhill and is approaching its last breath. Alan Barstow, an unpublished Columbia elitist, wholly unqualified to direct anything, has methodically ruined the program – becoming a fraternity of corporate Ivy-Tower sycophants who gladly apply brown lipstick and write the check – thus causing a brain-drain to a former colleague of his, Larry Star – now a UPenn competitor, running a similar program at Jefferson University in Philadelphia. As all things in life are for a reason, as there are no mistakes in life – after becoming an esteemed Ivy-League dropout, I went on to write Unbreakable Mind, now selling worldwide. It can be found on Amazon, iTunes, Kindle and Audible.

With so much planned by the university the trip required especially meticulous planning. We all had to find our own way of transportation to Santiago – instructed to arrive within a twenty-four hour period. Luckily I knew another participant who lived not far from my home and was willing to let me travel with him to the airport.  In the end, a group of us all reserved the same flight from Baltimore, Maryland to Santiago, Chile. The first glowingly obvious fact to pay attention: Chile is in South America, the Southern Hemisphere, and has opposite seasons as the US. So, while it is warm and summer in North America, it is cold and winter in South America.  That means if I could escape for a day I could possibly adaptive ski.

Flight itinerary sussed, it was time to prepare for the trip. Packing was not difficult for me as prior I was a corporate traveler, on the road 90% most months. Packing medical supplies only required multiplying the # days of trip by # needed for each item, per diem. Proper planning for the flight was a bit more complicated. Years ago when I left the hospital I decided I would heal naturally, without any prescribed medications or contraptions attached to my body, which meant I had no urine bag attached to my leg. Once getting past the idea of catheterizing on the plane in front of strangers, anxiety of other bathroom functions set-in.  All that preparation made for a successful first flight – a 500-pound gorilla off my back.

When we arrived at Santiago International Airport everything was a chaotic zoo. People, as far as the eye could see, were jockeying for position at the luggage carousels like hornets protecting a nest. We tried searching for the immigration area to no avail – Doing the Dirty Dishes of life! Where normally there would be an area for diplomats, crew and injured to escape the public mayhem, it did not exist. It was the Wild West: my first experience in an over-crowded second-world airport, quickly becoming long on the tooth. Once sorted with luggage and immigration, we tried finding the group for transport to the hotel. With no group in sight, we decided on a taxi. This was an omen of complications soon to arrive.

Only ten minutes into the taxi ride and it was very quickly evident we were in a developing country. The entire ride on the highway into city center poor shanty-towns peppered the landscape along the hungry Mapocho River (Rio Mapocho),filled with plastic and other rubbish. It begins in the Andes Mountains and flows into the city, dividing the capital into two. This foreground is shadowed only by the power and wealth of new economic development in the background, including the famous Great Santiago Tower (Gran Torre Santiago), at a cost of USD $1 billion. At 300-meters high, it is the tallest building in Latin America and second in the Sothern Hemisphere.  Its six floors of shopping make for an eye-catching day.

Mayhem aside, it was nice to finally start feeling the cosmic energy and vibrant vigor of South America. There is this certain familiar comforting feel you get when there, as if you just entered an old friend’s house for a family sit-down meal together. It is no surprise then that their culture is so hot and spicy; food and dance included.  Latinos are a warm-blooded group, passionate and emotional – the men are overly filled with a peculiar brand of machismo, as if always on stage.  As well, the women, not lacking in their own unique inner special flare, with their fragile psyche always front-an-center on display, are sure to let you know what they are thinking. Taking it all in, I was finally in Santiago, a place I longed to visit.

Santiago, literally “St. James,” also known as Santiago de Chile, Chile’s largest and most densely populated city, its capital, part of the Santiago Metropolitan Region – with a total population of seven million residents, home of well-known poet Pablo Neruda – sits surrounded by stunning snow-capped mountains (Andes and Chilean Coast Range), entirely in the country’s Central Valley, is unlike any other city I have visited. It is the political, cultural and financial axis of the country – making Santiago one of the largest and critically important cities in the Americas. It is also home to many regional headquarters of global companies, only adding to the multi-cultural feel of the city, its inhabitants and neighborhoods.

Founded in 1541 by the Spanish conqueror Pedro de Valdivia, it has been the capital of Chile since colonial times. Though most parts of the government are located in Santiago, Congress meets in nearby Valparaiso. The city is very welcoming, with many parks and neighborhoods to visit and enjoy. It is within one hour of the mountains and Pacific Ocean. Chile’s famed wine vineyards are also only a short drive away.  A seductive and charming city, its winding streets are dotted with astonishing neoclassical architecture, art-deco, neo-gothic, and other styles ascetically pleasing to the eye. Everywhere you go in the city there is a special ambiance in the air – and a bit of smog too, as the mountains trap pollution.

The capital is separated into districts (comunas) and further into neighborhoods (barrios), each with its own distinct lively character. As good friends live in Las Condes, an area of upper income households, I visited but we soon left for an area with a bit more excitement. By far my favorite barrio is Bellavista, a Bohemian area with lots of street art and performers, as well as amazing night life. The barrio is super-energetic and animated, filled with great bars and restaurants for dining outside (winter is mild enough to still sit outside with LP lamps) with friends. Pablo Neruda, famed Chilean poet, has a home here: La Chascona. The barrio also provides entry to Santiago’s Metropolitan Park – with amazing city panorama.

As we were there on a university program, the focus was not so much on enjoyment in the city (mine was) but rather the budding economy and industries that dominated that arena. One day we had lunch at the Union League of Santiago (Club de la Union), a key influential institution in Chile’s history and future. In its heyday it had over 10,000 members, literally making it the center of Santiago’s public affairs and high-society. I could only imagine what the group of influential heavyweights joining me for lunch thought of me catheterizing at the table (was too involved to get to the loo in time). At one point, Oscar, the manager from South Africa, had to physically carry me to the toilet – the door dated to 1925.

Authoritative buildings and pretentious titles aside, it was time to see Chile outside the big city. One day we visited the largest copper mine in the world, run by Codelco – nationalized in 1971 as a state owned mining company.  We also visited a private farm where artisan cheeses were produced for export, mainly goat. The world renowned Chilean vineyards are not a far drive from the city. One day was spent at a boutique winery, where the tasting was generous and food gourmet. By far, my favorite excursion was our trip to Valparaiso, the coastal port city most well known for its street art, steep hills and colorful clifftop homes. European immigrants left their mark on local design, mostly nearby Plaza Sotomayor.

On our one free day I decided to hire a private driver for eight hours to take me to diverse sites outside Providencia district limits. My driver, Terod, with his non-existent English and my sub-par Espanol, taxied me to every possible spot a photo could be taken. As skiing was out, our first stop was gorgeous Parque Bustamante, filled with bold designs and cozy cafes, a great place to warm up with a hot drink outside in the brilliant winter sun. We also visited Bellas Artes, Lastarria, Yungay and Barrio Brasil – all very trendy and fashionable barrios, including urban art installations and various museums. The center of Santiago, Centro Historico, home to Plaza de Armas, includes Cathedral of Santiago and National Historic Museum.

As Chile is filled with diverse terrain and old buildings with small doorways and lots of stairs, it can be quite challenging to navigate unassisted in a wheelchair – there are hazards most everywhere you look. Though I did not use the metro, they are in the process of making subway lines more accessible.  Some buildings have ramps but the majority does not. New buses have access ramps and spaces for handicap travelers, otherwise you roll the dice. Still, buildings there have little to no access for disabled travelers.  We stayed at an international hotel and even there, in the lobby, I could not access a bathroom stall. Chile is a wonderful country, one I will return to one day, hopefully next time standing upright – walking.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

Bruges, Belgium: Your velvety waffles, twice-cooked fries, succulent mussels, tasty beers and rich buttery chocolate are pure decadence.

Belgium was never a country that stood out to me and screamed “come visit” all I have to offer. Truth be told, I did not know what she had to offer other than gastronomic delight.  I first encountered this quietly hidden mischievous country while in community college in the early 1990s. While visiting England, as part of a cultural foreign exchange program, a few of us decided to wonder astray to further explore mainland Europe. Oddly enough, Belgium was only chosen as one in our group was a chef from a big casino in Atlantic City, whose employer was picking up the tab on all food and drink bills as part of a foreign taste discovery tour. Dave was a wild cat who liked to party; lockstep, we all followed his lead.

We had not arrived in Brussels ten minutes before Dave began watering at the mouth over the thought of all the beers and foods he was about to try, and others he had yet to discover. As large casinos are always on the hunt to increase the food variety they offer at their restaurants, twice a year, all expenses paid, they fly selected chefs anywhere in the world to eat and drink, on their dime.  As Dave was already there because of a program the casinos increased his expense account. That is where we came in; the casino was only meant to pay “his” dining costs. Well, I can assure you, it was not eleven minutes before Dave was buying the first round of Trappist beers. It was my first taste of Belgium beer – unforgettable.

For the next three days our motley crew of misfits wreaked havoc on Brussels and our stomachs. I was introduced to a whole new world of food that, until that time, I did not know even existed. A few years earlier my eyes were opened up to the world through international travel, writing one’s own page of history, and now my horizons were being spread even further in a new direction: the refined world of a culinary and oenophile palate. Dave was a true connoisseur, especially all things French. He introduced us to a whole new world – and took us along for the ride, first class. Though we may have been unsure some items he ordered, we tried them all. Not one complaint registered, but plenty of memories did.

My first trip to Belgium was memorable but did not leave me with the immediate desire to return soon without reservation. Fast forward twenty-seven years and I am now spending my summers living in Amsterdam, Holland. A close friend from Philadelphia, Joe, decided to visit me in Europe. What started out as a one week trip turned into two, then into five, before finally settling on an auspicious seven.  We decided we would take a few local side trips within Western Europe to visit some fun places. Spain was a bit too long in an auto for my injury so we flew there, deciding driving to Cologne, Germany and Bruges, Belgium. First stop on our adventure was Bruges – a city visited long before with some fellow comrades.

With all activity of prior nights’ raucous debauchery, those of young ‘innocent’ teens running amok in Europe, long forgotten, it was time for diverging roads and new indelible memories – Bruges awaited. Joe had never been to Europe – it was his first time. As almost always is the case I travel the world solo, so it was super helpful having someone along for the ride. And also someone to relieve me of driving responsibility, which can be quite taxing on my body as it continues to heal and progress further toward walking again. In life, it is only through Doing the Dirty Dishes that one can hope to change or grow as a person. One must get their hands dirty in life, becoming bold, vulnerable, choosing the path less chosen.

Long ago on my first visit to Belgium, a side-trip while on a cultural exchange program in England, we only swiftly visited Brussels, Bruges, Ghent and Antwerp. We were students on the hunt for anything non-academic and everything fun. My trip this time is a bit different as now I travel in a wheelchair. In my recent book: Unbreakable Mind – written for those facing an insurmountable obstacle or struggle in life, or those looking for a great story of motivation and inspiration – I speak on the need of continually broadening and expanding the horizons in your life; when the story ends life begins, and to travel the world is to remove prejudice through cultural understanding. Plan a trip in 2020 ~ hence this blog!

Since we only had a few days to visit we decided to pick one town, reserve a hotel and explore all the popular local sites. We chose Bruges. It is my favorite city in Belgium to visit. Located in the northwest, the capital of West Flanders, it is most well known for its picturesque canals, cobblestone streets and remarkable buildings from the medieval time period.  In previous years, with its huge canal network and access to international seas, the city was known for fishing and extensive European trade. The most distinguished part of town is city center, home to fine Burg Square, where the 14th-century City Hall (Stadhuis) is located, and nearby Markt Square, with its 13th-century Belfry and 83m tower with a view.

We chose to stay in the most central location, a hotel only fifty meters from Markt Square. Knowing the streets would not be forgiving on a manual wheelchair, it was important to be closer to the action. To claim access to the hotel in a wheelchair was difficult would be the understatement of the year; making the hotel clerk’s message to me a few months earlier on the ease of access the overstatement of 2019. Without Joe’s help I would have had a very hard time even getting in the front entrance. There were two hard doors to navigate before entering a one-man elevator with only a hair to spare for the wheelchair. The halls were carpeted, curvy and hilly – all nightmares for a wheelchair. Joe was an angel with wings.

As we had arrived mid-evening, there was no time to waste – local treats awaited arrival to our bellies. What would we try first? Joe was seduced by my description of the best waffles in the world. Well, there was no shops close-by who sold such warm goodness. Joe spotted a fry stand. After polishing off two orders of twice-cooked fries (Dutch are cooked once only) with obligatory mayonnaise (Andalouse), we decided on a drink. As we were already on Markt Square, there was no lack of outside restaurants to sit and enjoy the local delectable eats while enjoying the sun, conversation and amazing people watching. Six hours and three outdoor cafes later, while chatting with Nepalese staff, we closed down the plaza.

In Holland, their neighbor to the north, they prefer to call them Flemish fries (Vlaamse frites). They take their fries seriously in this part of the world, and so that ‘label’ ensures them a guarantee of the highest quality. Belgian fries are best known for being freshly cut, irregularly shaped, thick, distinct potato taste – and, twice-fried, served in a paper cone, they are crispy on the outside and super light on the inside. Flemish refers to Vlaanderen, which is the northern section of Belgium that is Dutch speaking. The Dutch relate well to this part of the country because they share the same language and history. Once upon a time they were the same country. The southern part of Belgium speaks French and is closer to France.

Over the next few days we would explore the city residents simply consider a village. A cosmopolitan yet nostalgic town at heart, with roots in medieval Europe, home to the regions’ most talented artists, an assortment of fine dining, it is an international city of tourists that maintains a small-town heartbeat.  The realm of eats spans from inexpensive street foods to expensive Michelin-star dining establishments. My five all-time delicious items to consume when in Belgium: Trappist monk beers, mussels, waffles, fries and chocolate. There are fourteen Trappist monasteries, six of which are located in Belgium. The city offers all types settings, from street to casual to modern. There is something for everyone to relish.

As you walk through the narrow cobbled streets, past astonishing medieval architecture and buildings such as the Belfry and Rose Hat Quay, exploring the quaint canals – possessing their own special energy, finding hidden off-the-beaten-path gems, feeling the song of this seductive mistress being sung unto your soul.  The easiest way to see the city’s extensive network of canals is by boat tour. The city’s past is affluent and influential, once home to the Hof Bladelin, a part of the Medici banking system. Float by the Jan Van Eyckplein and Burgher’s Lodge, at one time where you could find the city’s famous and elite. The Groeningemuseum displays art of the ‘Flemish Primitives,’ such as Hans Memling and Jan Van Eyck.

The city is best explored on foot – getting out into the streets and seeing what aesthetic pleasures await your discovery. The historic core of Bruges is an UNESCO world heritage protected site. Once you get beyond city limits there is an extensive network of abbeys and castles, known as Brugse Ommeland. Visit the squares, climb the tower and see the cityscape views, eat some of the endless street foods, go to a fancy restaurant, take a bike ride through Loppem Castle – a garden labyrinth built for noble offspring dated to the 19th-century, take a canal boat tour, go to a museum or enjoy the summer sun with friends – savor life. Americans do not pale in comparison – Europeans focus more on enjoying life to its fullest.

Most cities in Europe I visit require navigating public transportation systems, whereas Bruges, village-like and historic, with only tapered canals and cobbled roads to navigate, nonetheless still a daunting task in a wheelchair, is manageable. Regardless, the number of worries never changes. Bruges, with its small doorways and untold stairs, is not for the novice injured traveler. With a bit of meticulous planning, you could have a spectacular trip. And when things do not go as planned, which is often in my case, trust that the universe will see you through it. Otherwise, start with fries and mussels (Moules frites), with a Westmalle Dubbel on tap, followed by a warm waffle with chocolate, strawberries and cream as dessert.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.