Wes Stroh

The Valle de Mexico provides a perfect introduction of the conflux of Castilian and Indigenous cultures, whether strolling the cobbled streets of Colonial Puebla, climbing the Sun Pyramid at Teotihuacan, or navigating the frenetic pace of behemoth Mexico City.

Serving as my home base while living in and traveling around Europe, there was always something comforting when returning to my adopted German home and this view, past my office, down the Spree, to the glass-domed Reichstag.

The Eternal City lives up to its name--walk any direction--you're immersed in the art, architecture, and history of two millennia of human advancement.  The Colosseum (or Flavian Amphitheatre), the Pantheon, the Vatican are only the tip of the iceberg in a thorough exploration of Rome.  A late lunch in a piazza, exploring the hidden messages of the chapel art in a nieghborhood chiesa--these are essential to begin to tap into what is Rome.  My most memorable afternoon:  setting out on the Via Appia on foot, walking under still-standing aqueducts with the summer Italian sun beating down. 

Magnificent examples of Roman antiquity--both in art and architecture, the Neopolitan coast is easily in my top five favorite places in the world.  I celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday hiking the ruins of Pompeii.  The views from the Tiberian palace at the top of Capri are simply breathtaking.  And a ride on the back of a friend's scooter through the winding streets of Naples, where locals don't seem to maintain a concept for traffic regulation, is an experience as exhilarating as any roller coaster I've ridden stateside.

Perhaps what I miss most about my life in the west is my annual backcountry trip.  I've explored the mountains around Aspen and Telluride, the expanses of the San Luis Valley, remote mining towns such as Silverton and Ouray, and the blue sky country around Santa Fe and Taos.  As a farewell to the West, prior to moving to PA, I followed a grand circle through all of my favorite places and added three-days in the backcountry of Canyonlands in Utah, then heading south through the Moki Dugway into Monument Valley, crossed Lake Powell, and communed with the magnificence that is the American West.

My grandfather, a 92-year old veteran horseman, included me in the annual ride at North Fork Ranch up the Platte Canyon last May.  I hadn't ridden horses since childhood and hopping up in the saddle felt totally natural, and I could see the pride in Grandad's smile seeing his eldest grandson partaking in a family tradition.  I hope to return this May, as I'm now considered part of the "inner circle" of his horse- and mule-riding friends.

What I found most striking was not the bustling pace of the Santiguinos--so many cities to which I've traveled have their own version of the urban pace.  It's the Andes that loom just to the east, rising up to more than 20,000 feet--omnipresent from any vantage in Santiago, they're always looking over your shoulder!

BA is everything you've always heard--fast, sophisticated, overpowering.  We North Americans often forget what a historic superpower Argentina was for much of the 19th and 20th centuries.  The Argentines don't let you forget, however, and it's always clear that they live life to its fullest, as seen in the amazing street art--formal and informal--that abound this mega-city.