Some of the best places to visit in London are the London Bridge to start. I took photographs near the bridge by a park and up on the bridge. There is even a tour that will take you up into the bridge itself where you can look out into the ocean and the city.

Buckingham Palace is a must-see. The beautiful architecture is a sight to behold. The black and gold gates are striking especially when the bobbies stand next to them. I had a picture taken with one. The guards are also switched out every couple of hours and it is intriguing. Many people will stand outside the gates to try to get a glimpse of royalty.

Abbey Road Studios is located off St. John's Wood and isn't open to the public but you can take photos there. You can check out the place where the Beatles crossed the street for their album cover Abbey Road.

St. Paul's Cathedral is an amazing Catholic Cathedral to take a tour in. It has several sections. The first section reaches a walkway called Whispering Gallery. The next section is an outdoor walk. These sections continue to go into higher levels and eventually you will get a spectacular view of London.

Portobello Road is opened daily and it is a type of flea market that sells antiques. It is a cool place to visit when you are looking for a bargain.

The National Gallery in Trafalgo Square is a good museum for those that enjoy going to museums on vacations. They display works of Leonardo De Vinci and have several Egyptian artifacts and antiques as well as Ancient Greek sculptures. It is one of the better museums in London.

Finally, there are a few more places to visit while in London. Take a walk to the West End where you can catch a show. It is considered the Theatre District. Go to the Tower of London which is best seen at night. If you have a chance to do so go visit the Big Ben and take a bus tour around the city.

While suggestions from friends are always welcome, don't base you decisions upon what other people have done. They may have absolutely hated New Zealand - but it might have rained on their "highlight" days. Unlucky. If you go, you might just love it - millions have and continue to do so every year.

Visit several travel agents and obtain brochures on your destination. Each agent might have loyalty to one tour company and may not offer you information on a competitor that might just cater to older clientèle. Shop around.

Look at the websites of the companies you are considering. Look at the photos contained there - do they show teenagers riding camels, or seniors riding camels?

What is Your Budget?

While cost should not be the most important consideration for seniors, it will quickly cut a swathe through the list of products on offer. Many companies will offer the same itinerary - but the price is very different. Why? The answer is usually that the hotels used are of a lower standard and may be a little out of town. Big deal! The sheets and showers will be clean, and a walk into town should not be an issue unless you have mobility problems.

Another big price differentiator is "inclusions". Find out what meals, excursions and entry fees are included, and how many will see you putting your hand in your pocket. Quite often it is more economical to take the more expensive option and have all of these "extras" prepaid - at least you will have a better idea of your on-tour expenses this way.

How Active Are You - Be Honest!

When you look at an itinerary, take into consideration the number of times you will get on and off the coach every day. You will very likely be boarding early in the morning - off and on again for a coffee and bathroom stop - off and on again for a photo stop - off and on again for a lunch stop - off and on again for a visit to an attraction - off and on again for afternoon coffee - off late in the day for your overnight accommodation. And then you will do it all again the following day. Will your sore hip, knee, back etc cope with this? If the answer is "no", then you really need to consider your itinerary very carefully.

It is very disappointing to travel a long way to find that while your mind is willing, your body is letting you down. Perhaps a cruise will suit you better, on a tour where you spend more than one night at a location will afford you some "recovery" time.

Mobility Aids

If you have a walker, or collapsible wheelchair, will you be able to take these? Usually if you require such aids, you will need to be accompanied by a "carer", whether this is your spouse, family member or paid companion. If tour companies know in advance, it is possible to take these items. Do let them know - if they are aware of special requirements, they can make sure you do not have to negotiate obstacles like stairs at hotels and showers over baths.

Willing to Share?

Some tour companies offer the choice to single travelers of sharing a twin room with another single of the same sex. This works well very often, but before you decide to go this way, bear in mind the biggest problem that these people encounter…. Snoring! Do you snore? How would you feel if the person in the bed next to your snored all night? If you picture this as a tour-destroying problem, whether you are the snorer the one lying awake each night, the best advice here is to choose to pay for a single room, or simply take ear plugs.

Happy Touring!

Kerry Anne Finch is an accomplished marketer, with proven successes in corporate and NFP PR, event management and hugely successful product launch programs.

She has worked in the private sector for many years, in fields as varied as celebrity calender publication (notably Anne Geddes, Kylie Minogue and Elle Macpherson Calenders) to education and food ingredients. Her versatility as a writer has seen her in demand for the production of media releases, health reports, staff, consumer and B2B newsletters, and direct marketing material.

Currently Kerry divides her time between writing and gathering material through her role as a tour director, managing tour groups in West Australia and New Zealand. The life experiences related by her passengers has shown her that just about everyone has a story to tell.

With a love of research, Kerry's passion is to "look behind the news" to bring out the background to a story into the foreground. Her marketing, writing and research skills combine to present such information in a way to which audiences with a broad demographic profiles can relate. Visit her website at Kerryannefinch.com .

After receiving my orders, I learned that Rilda, had been given permission to travel concurrently with me. We drove from Louisville, Kentucky, to Charleston, South Carolina, and shipped our car by ship at army expense to Bremerhaven in the northwestern portion of West Germany, a seaport on the North Sea. From there it would be delivered to Landstuhl, my ultimate duty station. The following day we sat nervously and impatiently beside each other in the waiting lounge at the Charleston International Airport in South Carolina. We were about to depart company with the United States for the next three years. I flinched when I heard, “Colonel Seletz,” over the loudspeaker. Rilda and I jumped up and marched smartly to the Jetway. A pleasant blue-uniformed airlines agent handed us our boarding passes. “Here you go, sir. You and Missus Seletz are first in line and have been assigned the front two bulkhead seats. Enjoy the overnight flight to Frankfort, West Germany.”

Bleary-eyed the following morning, Rilda and I were in dire need to rest and overcome six hours of jet lag. My sponsor had dropped us off at the Zum Zuckerbäker Gasthaus in Landstuhl, seventy-five miles southwest of Frankfort. Dragging suitcases, we entered the Gasthaus, “German hotel,” and I tried out my Bahnhof Deutsch, “Train Station German.”

“Guten Tag,” I said as I approached a pleasant appearing middle-aged man standing behind the reception desk. “Mein Name ist Seletz, Jules Seletz.” I hoped they had a reservation and more important, that the proprietor understood my pitiful German.

“Guten Tag, Herr Seletz,” the gentleman replied. “Ja, wir erwarten Sie.”

I sighed. At least we're expected. Then I asked for the key, explaining that we were extremely tired.

“Natürlich, Herr Seletz,” the man smiled. Then the proprietor explained that he required payment in advance.

I frowned thinking, Pay in advance? I had a few hundred Deutsch marks in my wallet that we had purchased from a commercial bank in Kentucky, but at a hundred Deutsch marks a day at Zum Zuckerbaker Gasthaus would rapidly deplete my cash. Do I asked hopefully, “Benutze ich, krempelt ein Kredit?” I held my breath, hoping he'd take a credit card.

“Natürlich,” the German responded. Then he asked in perfect English, “Visa, MasterCard or American Express?” He added in perfect German, “Willkommen nach Deutschland!”

I sighed inwardly. Yes. Welcome to Germany!

An hour later, I glanced at Rilda. “You awake?”

She whimpered, “Who can sleep with all that racket out there?”

I smiled knowingly and reassured her, “It's children. It's Sunday. No school. Shouldn't be this noisy tomorrow.”

“But Jules,” she whined. “I'm tired ... today.” Then she laughed and said facetiously, “Willkommen nach Deutschland!”

I glanced at my watch, reset to German time. “It's five o'clock.” I raised an eyebrow and asked Rilda expectantly, “Shall we explore Landstuhl?”

Rilda's face brightened. She put her fatigue aside and said excitedly, “You bet. And find us a good old German Bratwurst.”

I smiled and asked hopefully, “How about the famous German beer we've heard so much about?”

Rilda nodded, her eyes dancing, and said enthusiastically, “I'll settle for a glass of well-known Rhein Wine. And thanks to Herr Zuckerbäker taking Visa, we've still got our Deutschmarks from the States.”

We slipped off the bed, dressed and scurried down the staircase to the first floor. From Zum Zuckerbäker, we turned left on Kaiserslautern Strasse and one block down, crossed Einbahn Strasse. After two more blocks, we crossed Einbahn Strasse again. I took it for granted that Einbahn Strasse was a U-shaped street. As we strolled along, we looked up to our left and recognized the remains of Nanstein Castle overlooking the small village. There was evidently no shortage of German castles in West Germany. Since they had no military importance, they were spared the ravages of Allied bombing runs during WWII.

An elevated open plaza suddenly materialized on our left where we immediately heard oompah music. A large, green-and-white striped tent loomed on our left, the aroma of Bratwurst beckoning us. We glanced sideways at each other, grinned, and sauntered up a set of concrete steps and strode across the square to witness a typical German Fest, “Party.”

Inside the tent, numerous men and women, with huge tan Great Danes or black Labrador Retrievers lying peacefully at their owner's feet, were chatting noisily. A thick veil of cigarette smoke hung in the air. All the customers wore western-type clothing. To me, except for the language, and the dogs, they could easily have been Americans.

I approached the bartender, a portly man with a beefy face and again tried my newfound language. “Entschuldigung Sie, "excuse me." Kann Ich wir Getränke hier kaufen?” I held my breath, hoping to buy drinks.

The bright-eyed bartender replied, “Aber natürlich, wenn Sie Geld haben zahlen. Sind Sie Amerikaner?”

I nodded, thinking, We've got money. And we're obviously Americans. Then I said in German, “Beer for me and white wine for my wife.”

The bartender pursed his lips, nodded and replied in perfect English. “Coming right up, Herr Amerikanische.” He put a stein under the spigot and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the table behind him. He filled a stemmed glass up to an etched line, conforming to German law. It seemed forever, however, for the stein to fill, because the bartender kept scraping off the foam and refilling the stein from the tap. I soon learned if I wanted cold beer, a draught, I had to exhibit patience. If not, I could get a bottle of warm beer from a case sitting on the floor. When the bartender finally handed us our drinks, he said with a broad smile, “Prosit!”

Soon Rilda and I were chatting, laughing, and answering numerous questions from the Germans at the bar. People sitting around at the tables kept lifting their steins and glasses toward us and smiled happily while also exclaiming, “Prosit!” Sometimes we heard, “Zum Vohl!” instead. Rilda and I learned both meant, “Cheers!” We also learned it took only the slightest of excuses to instigate a fest in Germany.

When I asked about a good restaurant that served typical German food, all the customers instantly argued loudly with each other. Everyone talked and no one listened. So I finally accepted directions to the nearest one. When we left the oompah music behind, it was as if we were waving good-bye to lifelong friends.

We walked two blocks, at angles to Kaiserslautern Strasse, and came upon Einbahn Strasse once again. I said to Rilda, “Einbahn Strasse must be the longest street in Landstuhl. After being seated in the restaurant, I mentioned to the waiter that I had seen Einbahn Strasse a number of times in Landstuhl. The German responded with, “Jawohl, mein Herr. Es gibt vielem Einbahn Straßen in Landstuhl.” I felt my face flush when I learned there were many one-way streets in Landstuhl.

The following day, after reporting to the Personnel Office to sign in, I had the remainder of the day off. So we headed down Kaiserslautern Strasse to Autobahn 6 and drove east to Heidelberg, where there was an ancient Schloss, “castle” high on a hill overlooking an ancient Brucke, “bridge” that crossed the Nekar Fluss, “River.” Before visiting the Schloss, with nowhere to park on the street, I drove into an underground parking garage. The garage attendant ran toward us, waving his hands wildly in the air and excitedly shouting in German while pointing to a sign on the wall : Einbahn Strasse.