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1. Their fees will put the brakes on your family’s vacation. In the summer months, when demand heats up, rates rise by 20% to 25% (if not considerably more) beyond the average daily rate of $43, according to Neil Abrams, president of Abrams Consulting Group. Once you factor in fees, taxes and surcharges (which may not be initially disclosed), it becomes increasingly difficult to find a deal. Additional fees raise the cost of an airport rental by another 26%, on average, reports Travelocity. One way to save: Rent off-site, where special airport-facility fees don’t apply.

2. You’re subsidizing local facilities. You pay through the nose partly because you’re helping to build stadiums, convention centers and other publicly funded facilities. When car-rental companies are taxed, they turn around and tax you, the out-of-state, nonvoting, vacationing visitor.

Launched in May 1998, ResortQuest has quickly become a trusted name in the vacation rental field. We’ve revolutionized the vacation rental industry by providing a single source for locating vacation condominiums, homes and villa rentals in 50 premier resort destinations throughout the continental United States, Hawaii and Canada. Our portfolio comprises more than 20,000 vacation rental properties in premier beach, ski, golf, mountain and desert resorts across North America and Hawaii (Aston Hotels & Resorts).

Several car rental companies are offering ski deals. Avis’ Ski the West promotion gives renters 20 percent off weekly or weekend rentals as well as a free ski rack rental through April 30. Call 888-777-AVIS or visit [www.avis.com] and use rate code AWD# K997101. Similarly, Hertz’s Ski Rates include a free ski or snowboard rack, unlimited mileage and substantial savings. If a Ski Rate for a four-wheel-drive vehicle is booked at least 21 days in advance and prepaid, the car is guaranteed. If it is not available, the renter will get

Who are Slow Travelers?

Slow Travelers go to Europe to experience different cultures and lifestyles, but they do it differently than most tourists. Instead of staying in hotels or B&Bs, they stay in vacation rentals – apartments, cottages or houses that you rent by the week. Staying in your own temporary “home”, even if just for a week or two, lets you experience a place more intensely because you get involved in the community where you are staying. You shop for groceries and supplies in the local shops, stop at the same café every morning, see the people in your village or neighborhood each day. My husband and I used to travel in Europe staying in hotels, but once we tried vacation rentals in Switzerland in 1988, we were hooked. Now this is the only way we travel.

This section focuses on considerations specific to vacation rentals in Italy. If you are not familiar with vacation rentals in Europe, read our What is Slow Travel? section first.

Vacation rentals range in quality from very simple 1 bedroom apartments on working farms that might rent for $500 or less per week to luxury villas that sleep 12 or more and rent for $5000 or more per week.

Hot Summers

Expect hot summers and no air conditioning. You will be cooler in the countryside and closing the window shutters keeps the house cool. Read more in Italy: Instructions for Visitors - Keeping Cool in the Summer.

Bugs, bugs, bugs

Mosquitoes, flies, ants, wasps, scorpions, and more! Your vacation rental in the countryside will have many creatures. We once left a piece of raisin bread on the kitchen counter only to come home that evening to find the counter and nearby floor

You can find vacation rentals all over Europe, North America, the world! They are villas, houses, cottages, or apartments, on farms, in the countryside, in villages or in cities, that you rent by the week. They are not hotels or B&Bs, but accommodations with kitchens that let you live comfortably for a longer stay. They range in quality from simple to deluxe, in size from a one-bedroom apartment for two people, to a 10-bedroom villa for 20 people.

Americans call them “vacation rentals”, but they are known by other names - holiday rentals, tourist rentals, holiday cottages, self catering. In Italian they might be called “agriturismi” (singular: agriturismo, agritourism in English), in French “gites. In German the term is “ferienwohnungen”. But they are all the same thing, accommodations set up for weekly rentals (in Europe it is usually from Saturday to Saturday).

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Rents on vacation homes typically are cheap enough to be more attractive to travelers than traditional travel accommodations, but high enough to bring in more than enough cash to pay the mortgage and upkeep costs.

Because vacation home rents for travelers are higher than long-term rents paid by conventional tenants, you’ll need rent your property only about 20 weeks each year, creating less wear and tear on the property than with full-time tenants. That leaves the property open more often for vacation property trades with other vacation property owners in far-off places.

When it’s time to sell a successful vacation rental property it can sell for a premium because you aren’t just selling a property, you are also selling an established business.

“None of this works if you are renting through a property management company,” says Christine Karpinski, a self-taught Atlanta, GA vacation property

The biggest flaw in this dark comedy by Gary Yates (Seven Times Lucky) may be that it is too ambitious - crammed with too many characters and too much plot.”The ambition may be laudable but the results are not,” says The Globe and Mail ’s Rick Groen.

The story follows a vast ensemble, all poised on the edge of despair at a seedy motel in downtown Niagara Falls. Toronto playwright George F. Walker (This Is Wonderland), in collaboration with Dani Romain, put the script together from three of his Suburban Motel plays. But “while much of Walker’s dialogue remains punchy… the intertwining of the stories lessens its impact,” writes Jason Anderson in Eye Weekly.

“Niagara Motel is too disjointed to satisfy the discerning filmgoer,” agrees The Province’s David Spaner, and “never feels like a consistent whole,” according to Cameron Bailey of Now Magazine.

“Top-heavy with look-at-me absurdness,” says Steven Frank of Time Canada, despite some strong performances, especially those of Anna Friel, Wendy Crewson and Peter Keleghan.

And, thanks to British cinematographer Ian Wilson (Edward II, The Crying Game), it “looks gorgeous, even in its seediness,” writes Bruce Kirkland of the Toronto Sun.

Lucid: Director Sean Garrity (Inertia) returns with the story of Joel, a psychotherapist plagued by insomnia after his wife and daughter catch him in bed with another woman. But despite its dark twists and turns and its outstanding cast, his sophomore feature is garnering mixed reviews.

It “never manages to turn its quirkiness into genuine charm nor its cleverness into real feeling,” complains The Globe and Mail ’s Kate Taylor.

Jonas Chernick, who cowrote the script and plays the lead, “has a face that the camera loves,” enthuses Susan Walker in the Toronto Star. “But Lucid also tries one’s patience, more maddening than it is elucidating.”

However, the Winnipeg Sun’s David Schmeichel says Lucid is worth a look: “The cast is uniformly great and Garrity succeeds in creating a Lynchian vibe that just gets weirder as things progress.”

Although she says the film stumbles in the last act, Julie Crawford of the Vancouver Courier also says Lucid is “visually rich and cleverly recreates Joel’s off-balance reality.”

“Not especially suspenseful,” but it “holds attention passably until it runs off the rails in last reel,” writes Dennis Harvey in Variety.

September and October appear to have become the seminar and convention season. This year, I was gone five weekends during these months. Why? Sometimes, I don’t rightly know myself, but we all have our reasons.

For example, new chiropractors in practice for less than two years are big fans of seminars on treatment techniques. That is their focus. But between the second and fourth year of practice, the focus becomes practice management seminars. That makes sense. Then, from four years in practice to about 15 years, educational seminars on documentation, research, or current clinical studies become more attractive. From 15 years onward, doctors stop going to seminars - until they have been in practice for about 40 years. Then, they start going to technique seminars again to find out what they have been doing wrong all those years.

The weekend, out-of-town seminar is one of the ultimate fruits of any doctor’s labor. That’s because it costs money, and the willingness to spend it. Add up the costs of registration, hotel, airfare, a rental car and meals, and the total costs can make one highly motivated to find the cheapest means to attend. And if the fruits of practice labor aren’t ripe enough for travel, there is always the annual state association convention at home.

Motel 6

by Thom Lemmons

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[Heartlight has run this short story before, but it seemed especially appropriate to re-run it this week with our theme of dealing with temptation.] Panic stabbed at his midsection just as the beam from his headlights picked up the city limit sign. He had forgotten the reports he needed to make tomorrow’s presentation! Yanking the car onto the shoulder of the two-lane blacktop, he whirled about and tugged his briefcase out of the back seat. He thumbed the latches and scrabbled through its contents in the dim glow of the dome light until he found a folder marked  “Projections — T. Landon.” Heaving a sigh of relief, he snapped the briefcase shut and pulled back onto the highway.

It was Thursday, so this must be Plainfield, he thought. When you’re on the road five and sometimes six nights a week, all the towns start to look alike: one not-so-major highway crossing another with a few houses and businesses huddling for comfort near the intersection. Like most small towns in west Texas, Plainfield boasted a court house, a football stadium and a Dairy Queen. And a single decent motel, which was why he made this town the terminus of his Thursday route.

He saw the motel sign just ahead. Along with a truck stop and the inevitable handful of convenience stores, the motel had one of the few signs still lit in Plainfield at this hour of the night. He rubbed his eyes. It had been a long day. But then, lately, all his days seemed long. He sighed. With any luck at all, tomorrow’s presentation would go well; he’d be able to convince the auto parts store that the cost savings generated by his computer system would justify the five-figure price tag. If he could put this deal to bed, the month would look pretty decent.

Goodness knew he needed a good month, after the last one. The brass hadn’t exactly said anything, but he knew the guys in the other territories were closing the lead he’d opened on them earlier in the year. Not only that, but Karen had told him during last night’s phone call that the dentist said Bethany was going to need braces. Then there were the lease payments on the Suburban, and the costs for daycare, and tuition payments to Westside Christian Academy, and …

He rubbed his eyes again. The tendons in his shoulders twisted another notch tighter as he drove into town.

The waitress brandished the coffee pot and aimed a questioning look at her. She nodded quickly, then resumed her study of the stained Formica counter top on which her elbows rested. Without conscious thought, she added artificial sweetener to the freshly-poured coffee and swished the spoon listlessly about in the cup.

How could that creep do this to her? And why? She had been the dutiful wife, hadn’t she? Even though she made more money than he did, she had agreed to move so he could take the managership his company had offered. Sure, it meant she had to travel more, but she thought their marriage was worth it. Nor did she complain when he spent all day Saturday and most of Sunday on the golf course.  “I’m making contacts at the country club,” he’d told her.  “It’s important to my business.” Fine. After all, he needed some recreation. He worked hard — no doubt of that.

It began to bother her that they didn’t talk much. Before the wedding, such thoughts never crossed her mind. In fact, he told her once that he liked the fact that he didn’t feel pressured to entertain her or make chit-chat. She thought it was a compliment. But as their marriage entered its second year, she wondered if she’d made the right inference. Not only did he not feel obliged to entertain her, it seemed he didn’t feel obliged to acknowledge her existence, much of the time. This didn’t feel to her like the familiar, companionable silence of well-accustomed friends. This felt like the silence of two strangers seated face to face at an airport.

And then, two months ago, the bombshell: he moved out. No, there wasn’t anyone else, he told her. He thought their lives were going in two different directions, that’s all, and it would be better this way. Just like that… Adios, baby — no hard feelings, huh? Don’t forget to forward my Sports Illustrated. Have your lawyer call mine and we’ll do lunch.

How can that creep do this to me? she asked herself, sipping at the tasteless coffee.

He pulled into the covered drive in front of the small motel office and switched off the engine. Thumbing the headlights and the electric door lock, he got out of the car and leaned against the glass door of the office. Going inside, he could smell stale cigarette smoke and hear the muted clink of silverware and coffee cups in the motel diner.  “Hi, Betty,” he greeted the middle-aged, tired-looking night clerk.  “‘Lo,” she returned, placing the registration card, a pen and a room key on the counter.  “Must be Thursday night,” she said, as she did each time he came here.  “Yeah, I guess,” he grinned halfheartedly, completing the ritual. Quickly he filled out the registration card and scooped the room key into his pocket.  “Say, Betty, how late does the diner stay open? I didn’t get a chance to eat.” “Open till midnight,” Betty shrugged,  “or whenever the folks stop showin’ up, whichever’s earlier.” She glanced at the rattling electric wall clock.  “Not but ten-fifteen, and they’re pretty busy tonight. You got plenty of time.” “Okay, thanks.” “You bet,” she replied, turning back to her Reader’s Digest.

He pulled around behind the motel, located his room — thankfully on the ground floor this week — and went inside. He tossed his briefcase on the bed, switched on the air conditioning unit, and hung his garment bag on the wall bracket beside the sink. Pulling the door shut behind him, he headed toward the diner.

Her head was down, studying the bottom of her coffee cup, so she didn’t see him come in. She didn’t notice him until he spoke to her. “Uh, ma’am? Excuse me, but can I sit here?”

With some difficulty, she forced her attention back to the present.  “Pardon me?” she said, raising her head to find the source of the question.

The eyes looking back at her were deep green, set in a lean, attractive face. His collar was loosened, his tie the proper width and design to be stylish. He looked tired, and she knew that he was a few years older than she was. She glanced around the room, then back at him.  “All the other seats are taken,” he explained with a weary wave,  “and this is the only one left. Are you waiting for somebody?” he asked, motioning toward the empty stool to her left.

She gave a harsh little laugh.  “Not by a long shot. Have a seat.”

He sat down and attracted the attention of a waitress.  “Bring me a glass of iced tea and a grilled cheese sandwich, please.” The waitress made a few quick marks on her pad and whirled away. “Thanks,” he said, turning back to her.  “I just got in, and I was running so far behind I didn’t get to eat yet.” “Don’t mention it,” she shrugged, and looked away.

As he sipped his tea and waited for the sandwich to arrive, he stole glances at her from the corner of his eye. She was obviously a professional person, judging by her dress. His guess was she was traveling on business, much like himself. Odd that he hadn’t run into her before. She sipped at her coffee without looking up, occasionally stirring a few strokes with her spoon. Her elbows were on the counter, and her head hung low between her shoulders. He could understand that: anybody from anywhere else who was spending Thursday evening in Plainfield was going to be tired. From her looks, he guessed she was like him — someone who was willing to get out and hustle; to do whatever it took to get where she wanted to go. Why else would a nice-looking young woman be in Plainfield on a Thursday night — alone? “Here you go.” He looked up. The waitress was plopping his sandwich down in front of him. “Oh. Thanks.” “You bet. Want some more coffee, hon?” she continued, pointing toward the woman’s near-empty cup. “Uhh … Yeah, sure. Go ahead,” she said, pushing the cup toward the waitress.

By degrees, she again became aware of him, sitting on her left and quietly consuming his sandwich. When she knew he wasn’t looking, she studied him from the corner of her eye. Polite. Quiet. Tired. Probably spent all day on the road, just as she had. She found herself wondering about him: where was he from? What was his life like? Had he ever bulldozed a marriage?

Unaccountably, she found herself wanting to strike up a conversation with him. Perhaps it was the darkness inside her, longing for a little glimmer of light — however artificial and fleeting. Perhaps the loneliness was reaching critical mass. Or maybe she was looking for a way out. Out of where? she wondered briefly, as she opened her mouth to speak. “Pretty exciting place on Thursday night, huh?”

He glanced at her, smiled apologetically and held up a finger as he finished chewing and swallowed.  “Yeah, I guess so. You and I must have the same travel agent.”

She chuckled and nodded as she took another sip of coffee.  “Well, this is the only place in this part of my territory where you don’t have to bring your own light bulbs. I’m usually here on Wednesday, but this week we’ve been closing some deals, so I had to juggle my schedule a little bit.”

Just as he thought! A fellow salesperson! He thought of handing her a business card, but for some reason hesitated.  “Where you out of?” he asked instead. “Lubbock. You?” “Fort Worth.” His eyes held hers for the merest moment, then he looked away, taking another bite of his sandwich.

What’s going on here? he wondered. He was far from unwilling to talk to her — and that worried him, just a little. There was something extra behind the words, the glances. Something that made him nervous — or excited. He wasn’t sure which, and maybe that was what was bugging him. She wanted to talk. Did he want to listen? And if he did, what else did he want to do? This wasn’t about quotas or sales projections or prospect lists. Or about braces, tuition and household expenses. This was the unknown, the untried. This was something different. Was it escape? “So — who are you with, there in Lubbock?”

Her eyes flickered over his face, then away. He felt his chest tighten ever so slightly.  “I’m with the Lomax Corporation. We sell —” “— business application software,” he interrupted.  “I’m with EBN.” “Oh, yeah!” she grinned.  “We co-opped with you guys on several deals last year.” “‘Course our national account guys got all the best plays, like always,” he groused. “Same here,” she agreed. There was a silence. “I hope there aren’t any loud jerks in the room next to mine, like last time,” she said, finally.

There. It was out. The implicit next question lay on the counter between them, waiting to be picked up. She wasn’t sure why she’d made the invitation, and wasn’t sure she wanted him to accept. But for some reason, even the conversation of a stranger seemed better tonight than the familiar, heartbreaking silence of the last two months. And an embrace — any embrace — seemed preferable to the unanswered solitude which had been her only companion in all that time. Her life was already hell. Why shouldn’t she take a little comfort where she could find it? He didn’t even have to know her name…

His mind froze, then raced off in a hundred directions at once. He knew the next move. She’d made it so simple. All he had to do was casually ask,  “Which room they got you in?” The rest would follow, like water down a drain.

He had a sudden sense of teetering on the edge of a knife. On one side was the familiar drudgery of the known world. On the other was … what? Ecstasy? Adventure? The thrill of the mysterious?

Or just another lonely human being, looking for a quick fix?

He took a slow drink of iced tea, emptying his glass, then set it down and stared thoughtfully at it for several seconds. “Well, it seems pretty quiet here tonight,” he said, at last.

She nodded, looking down at her coffee cup.  “Yeah, I guess so.” “I gotta give a presentation in the morning. I guess I better get outta here.”

She gave him a quick smile as he rose to leave.  “Good talking to you,” she said, still not sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.  “Knock ‘em dead tomorrow.” “Thanks,” he said, tossing two quarters onto the counter beside his empty plate.  “You take care.”  “Oh, I will.” She turned back to her half-empty coffee cup. She didn’t look around as he made his way toward the cashier stand.