I am Lost and Found

Tag: adventure

The Green O Strikes Gold. Montana’s Newest Luxury Retreat.
The green o is Montana’s answer to the latest travel trend: luxury-minded adventure escapes. A place that strikes the right balance of indulgence and adventure, and includes culinary experiences and tasting menus worth traveling for. Follow me to the green o, and read about the newest adults-only luxury retreat in the Montana wilderness.

“Are you sure the Sunset Trail goes through this field?” I ask my husband, warily.

“Trust me”, he replies, unhinging the creaky, metal gate, and ignoring the wooden sign marked: “DO NOT ENTER.” I bite my tongue, then follow.

We’ve been at the green o, Montana’s newest luxury adventure property, for all of two hours. My ‘adventure mindset’ is not yet fully formed. But here I am mountain biking toward a herd of hairy bison. Blind faith semi-firmly placed in my husband’s overly confident orienteering abilities.

Does anyone see the bright red flags waving in the distance? Unfortunately, I don’t.

Survival Skills at the green o, Montana

Daniel speeds past the bison with the grace of Chris Froome in the early stages of the Tour de France. I bumble along, struggling to find my balance. My shoes are too tight and my seat is too high. I can’t quite figure out the gears. I’m already parched.

I stop to take a photo—a thin disguise to catch my breath.

The bison look at me. One snorts loudly, breaking the silence of the pasture. Others chime in. Their collective snorting sounds threatening. They shake their massive wooly heads in utter disbelief, unleashing a flurry of flies.

“City folk”, they must be musing in their pea-sized brains, “Should we give them a free pass just this once?”

I feel judged. And rightly so. Daniel is miles ahead. I’m within 10 feet of these massive beasts and suddenly feel like a mid-morning snack. Daniel contends bison eat grass, not humans. But don’t grizzlies eat fish? Daniel has no comment, naturally.

Take deep breaths, I tell myself. Then channel my inner Soul Cycle warrior and power past them.

Spoiler alert, I survive.

The green o: Fields of Gold and Silver Linings

If the pasture where the Sunset Trail may or may not have cut through was any less captivating, I would have put down my size six sneaker in toddler-like defiance. But I see butter-yellow grasses glow against distant mountains. The bison, while terrifying, dot the field in wispy, chocolate-brown brush strokes.

The scene has all the makings of the 20th-century realist paintings I studied in Art History. A canvas imbued with the mysteriousness of Americana. Fields of gold and weathered farmhouses. An extraordinary sight for my city-centric eyes, and one of many Wyeth-inspired moments I discover at the green o.

So yes, I live to tell the tale. In the way of silver linings, I have more than a few bison portraits to show for it. And no permanent scars. Risk, meet reward.

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Welcome to The Green O

The green o (intentionally lowercase to exude an approachable, casual vibe) is an adults-only property located in the Blackfoot River Valley, in Greenough, Montana. It has 12-stand alone accommodations, each called a ‘haus’. If you are any good at math, you will quickly calculate that the green o has a max capacity of 24 guests.

Each haus accommodation at the green o is made from stunning combinations of wood, glass, and other stylized design elements. The hauses are scattered so haphazardly throughout the pine-laden property that they may well have sprung up from the earth itself. The green o refers to the hauses as romantic ‘glamping’ accommodations. But with eco-kitchens, outdoor hot tubs, and wood-burning fireplaces, they go well beyond any glamorous camping I’ve experienced.

The green o vs Paws Up

Hundreds of pines stand at attention in this small gated enclave on the southern edge of Paws Up near the scenic Blackfoot River. Paws Up Ranch is the sister property of the green o—a family-friendly resort established in 1915 by Paul Greenough. His property encompasses a whopping 37,000 acres of land. Well played, Paul.

Back in the early 1900s, Mr. Greenough, for whom the town and ranch are named, painted his flock of sheep with a large green “O”. A simple mark that was certainly ahead of its time from a corporate branding perspective. Does Oprah know about this? Hence the name of this Montana woodland escape—the green o. A tribute to the founder, rancher, and all-around man about town. Literally.

The relationship between the family-friendly Paws Up and the adults-only green o is decidedly one-sided. Guests of the green o are welcome to use any facilities at Paws Up. But guests of Paws Up are unable to access the restaurant’s tasting menu and common spaces of the green o. This lop-sided relationship adds an air of exclusivity for the 24 oh-so-lucky green o guests.

Finding Gold at the green o

While green is undoubtedly the signature color of the property, I can say without fear of my kids’ ridicule, that I found gold. Well, perhaps some fear. That does sound kind of corny.

I’ll attempt to exhaust the limits of the metaphor. Yellow tamaracks burst brightly from a forest of otherwise green firs, creating a ripple of gold. They shed their short needles so that the paths around the property appear to be paved in gold. A large, gooey golden honeycomb sits atop the bar in the main restaurant ready to be drizzled on my morning granola. Metaphor officially exhausted.

Earning Dinner at the green o

Luxury adventure retreats are popping up around the country at lightning speed. The appeal is clear. Travelers are looking for places that provide interesting combinations of active excursions, indulgence, and unique culinary experiences.

Hotel trends show heightened popularity in places where guests feel they have ‘earned’ that Michelin-worthy meal, multi-course tasting menu, and one-of-a-kind styled lodgings. Or, maybe that’s just me?

‘Earned’ could mean climbing a mountain. Or, taking on the green o’s mile-long Grizzlyman Trail. In our case, earned means outrunning simple-minded wild beasts. It’s a reward to mark a day we pushed beyond our comfort zones.

The green o takes it further by adding on unusual experiences, like an ATV ride to a remote ghost town or fly fishing in the Blackfoot River. A day-long Frontiersman Ride on horseback or participating in an authentic cattle drive. It’s all too easy to see the allure of adventure-inspired trips. Especially ones in remote wilderness locales like Montana.

At the Green O, It’s all about me us you

My husband and I come to the green o to create adventures based on our vacation style. Our trip doesn’t look like anyone else’s. I mean that literally and factually. Since our return, I’ve been stalking the green o and its guest posts on Instagram. Not one reel, story, or little square tile replicates our trip. Yet, they all look equally spectacular.

This is the beauty of the green o—that we can interpret the activities and offerings to reflect our own personal brand of adventure. Like on our first bike ride when Daniel chose to interpret the ‘DO NOT ENTER’ sign differently than me. Needless to say, we decide upon a few other activities with slimmer chances of being trampled to death.

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Choose our own adventure

Montana is a new state for both of us. We’d like to get up close and personal with the natural beauty for which it’s so well known. We opt for a six-mile hike through the ominously named Lubrecht Experimental Forest, which we access from a path behind our Tree Haus. I dismiss the irrational fear of being abducted and experimented on by a mad scientist named Lubrecht.

But trails named Grizzlyman, Hunter’s Point, and Anaconda are surely trying to shake my confidence level, which is medium at best. Dictated in part by past hiking adventures gone awry (Exhibit A: Wyoming) and (Exhibit B: England).

Thankfully mountain lions hadn’t been spotted recently around the green o. We are told that the bears are probably hibernating by now. That’s mildly reassuring, I think.

On another day we take a 12-mile bike ride through everchanging scenic terrain. Over burbling streams, and through grassy pastures with snow-covered mountains in the distance. We head up to a rocky lookout and admire the Blackfoot River below. It’s one of my favorite ways to spend a day.

I get to burn hundreds of calories in order to ‘earn’ the Wagyu smash burger waiting for me at the Social Haus. All the while admiring stellar views.

The Green Haus

Our haus, in the middle of the trees

The green o has four different haus accommodation types: the Round Haus, the Tree Haus, the Light Haus, and the Green Haus. All are within striking distance of the Social Haus—the green o’s main (and only) restaurant, which has a different tasting menu each evening.

The Tree Haus

I have my heart firmly set on the Tree Haus. The idea of sleeping among the stars in the wilderness must have awakened some part of my inner child. (My parents are surely wondering whose inner child I am referring to.) I hated camping as a kid and still do.

Maybe I was just waiting for the right kind of Tree Haus? Sleeping 23 feet in the air and seeing the stars blinking brightly between the tall pine silhouettes is ethereal. Even if it is from the second floor of our glass-enclosed heated Tree Haus.

The Round Haus

And, even if the bedsheets are so insanely cushy and cozy that we buy them the moment we arrive home. And that we can order on-demand wood-fired pizzas to that very same bed. This is my kind of camping.

Views Win at the green o

The design of our Tree Haus is inspired. A small glass entryway pops from the ground like a submarine’s periscope and invites us to shed our boots and coats. A floating spiral staircase snakes upwards toward the first-floor landing.

The drama is worth the climb—360-degree views of pine forests from floor-to-ceiling windows.

I stop to take in the space and first notice the modern wood-burning stove neatly tucked in the corner. There is an oversized chair beside it, and I make a mental note to curl up in it with my new Amor Towles novel as soon as possible.

In the freezer, I discover two homemade ice cream sandwiches just waiting for the midnight munchies to surface.
Pine-filled views trump all, which is likely why the green o gave us so many places to admire them. A hanging outdoor chair sways in the breeze on the wraparound outdoor deck. The bedroom balcony is the ideal spot to spy deer traversing the landscape. Even the view from the bathtub windows maximizes the woodland panorama.

The only other place for guests to mingle indoors at the green o is the Social Haus. That is perfectly fine with me, as the only thing that will get me to leave a fabulous room is a fabulous meal.

Getting Social

I’m not a ‘save the best for last’ type of person. I like the best first. So why am I writing about our culinary experience at the green o last?

The answer is simple but wordy.

If the green o had no hikes, no bikes, and no ATVs. No Tree Hauses, Round Hauses, or Green Hauses. If the woodlands were devoid of mountain lions, deer, and hibernating bears. If there were no golden tamaracks, golden pastures, or golden paths of golden needles. I would still go to the green o—for the food.

The Social Haus

I am a self-appointed foodie and travel for food the way others travel for a Broadway show or a music festival. I expect the food at the green o to be spectacular. Incredibly, I get much more than I expect.

Every meal at the green o is included in the price of the room. Craft cocktails and (most) wines are included as well. The culinary talents of Chef Brandon Cunningham are almost impossible for me to describe. But I will try.

3 dinners x 7 courses = 21 courses

The highlight of each evening, without a doubt, is the inventive 7-course tasting menu prepared by Chef Brandon and his faithful team. Seven unique courses each night for our three nights without a single course overlapping. Factor in that every other guest will also not overlap a course during their stay and you can see why this is a Mensa puzzle I’ll never solve.

The Social Haus has a convivial bar where guests can have dinner while watching the chef and his team create culinary magic. I order the Greenough Gimlet, with local Spotted Bear Gin, yuzu, and rosemary.

Daniel has Sudden Smoke, which requires the bartender to light a piece of wood on fire then place the glass upside down to absorb the smoke. It is just this kind of attention to alcoholic detail that makes the cocktail experience another green o adventure.

A dark green leather banquette semi-circles around a large glass-enclosed fire. Daniel and I sit facing it, as do all the guests, which creates an informal dinner party ambiance. Conversation flows, as do healthy pours of wine.

Seeing is believing, at the green o

The execution of Chef Brandon’s culinary creations is better seen than told. And better eaten than seen. One artfully designed course follows another. Like his version of Chinese take-out, complete with the ubiquitous cardboard box and chopsticks. Or, a modernized ham and cheese sandwich.

Meals are prepared with absolute intention and often with the help of tweezers. No detail is overlooked, whether that be the leanest slice of hamachi, the flourish of a matsutake mushroom, or a flowering spiral of avocado upon sourdough toast.

Each night I swear I couldn’t possibly handle another seven courses. But I do. I only wish I could stay longer. If for no other reason than to see if Chef Brandon ever slips up and serves the same course twice.

Lunches and breakfasts are as inventive and mouth-watering. Fried chicken and waffles with golden raisin chutney and coconut syrup; chamomile yogurt panna cotta with fresh berries, honeycomb, and pistachio; and the famous Wagyu smash burger. With its secret sauce, griddled onions, and pepper jack cheese, Daniel says it is the best burger he’s had. Ever.

Add in service with a Midas touch (notice how I continue to flog the metaphor?) and it’s obvious why the food experience at the green o is another star among stars.

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Your green o

What will your green o experience look like? Will you opt for a spa treatment or a leisurely hike? An ATV ride or a horseback ride? Mountain biking or fly fishing? Perhaps a long hot bath followed by a fire and a good book? The combinations are as high-adrenaline or as low-key as you’d like.

It’s worth mentioning a few other perks included in the room rate, which may seem high—until you have your first tasting menu Then you will realize that you are winning, as every single meal is included and is better than the last. Guests are welcome to dine at the restaurant at Paws Up, which I’m sure is lovely, but don’t. There is no reason to leave the Social Haus. Trust me.

The green o includes transportation to and from the airport in a hybrid Lexus. That same Lexus (or one from the on-site fleet) is at our disposal should we want to go off-property. Lastly, we are given a $500 voucher that we can use towards anything not included in the room rate. We used ours for a special bottle from the reserve wine list and a massage.

Gold abounds at the green o, no matter where you look, and no matter what season. I found gold everywhere, but none more noticeably than in the service, the food, and the bucolic setting. The only thing missing from our trip to the green o was more time.

It’s a sign

On our last afternoon, we drive along the road where we started our first bike ride. Just past the spot where the Sunset Trail may or may not have been. About 50 yards away we see a different sign, this one is a tad more informative: ‘DO NOT ENTER ENCLOSURE. THESE ANIMALS ARE DANGEROUS’.

I don’t gloat. But I want to.

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If you ever want to get in touch, ask a question, or discuss a way to partner, please email me at [email protected].
December 7, 2021
Hiša Franko is the 21st best restaurant in the world

Hiša Franko is #21 on San Pellegrino’s ‘World’s 50 Best Restaurants’ list. Hiša Franko’s chef is ranked #7 on the ‘Best Chef Awards’ list and has two coveted Michelin stars. Detect a pattern? Hiša Franko is climbing culinary ladders at breakneck speed.

Chef Roš has everything to do with it.

Honorable Mention: Culinary Travel

Hiša Franko

Perhaps you envision the world’s 21st-best restaurant in a cosmopolitan city like New York, with an inaudible hum coming from behind an unmarked door on West 9th Street. Or, in a posh Mayfair hotel, where London suit and ties gather to discuss private equity amid a buzz of banking activity. Where numbers and figures float around the room like musical notes.

Maybe you assume Chef Roš graduated with honors from the Culinary Institute of America or L’Ecole. Or, that Roš was taught to cook by a nurturing grandmother and spent hours in the kitchen recreating family recipes, eventually trading a stained apron for crisp chef’s whites.

You’d be wrong on all fronts.

Hiša Franko’s Lucky #21

The 21st best restaurant in the world, Hiša Franko, is not in a sleepless city or a swanky hotel. It isn’t on a quaint American main street or hidden in a European city’s back alley. It’s not anywhere you’d ever imagine. Unless you imagine it’s on a rural, tree-lined road in Slovenia.

Then, you’d be right.

You’d also be off-base about Chef Roš, who studied international science and was destined to become a diplomat. Or that Chef Roš played competitive sports and rarely stepped foot in a kitchen other than to eat.

Would you believe that Chef Roš entered Hiša Franko’s kitchen and had to start from scratch? Chef Roš, who is now a culinary powerhouse, has earned two Michelin stars and is a force to be reckoned with. Don’t believe me?

Just ask her husband.

Have passport, will travel

I travel for food the way others travel for a music festival, Broadway show, or museum exhibit. An extraordinary dining experience invigorates my senses in the same ways. A multi-dimensional artistic endeavor in its own right. When done well, for instance, a meal can be an Oscar-winning performance.

This summer, I drove four hours for lunch. I crossed an international border and through multiple microclimates with my passport and rapid antigen test results in tow. Then, I drove four hours back.

Was it worth it?

Chef’s Table, Hiša Franko

It’s June 2016. My husband and I are watching one of our favorite guilty pleasures, the culinary docu-series Chef’s Table. Chef’s Table is to food what the BBC’s Planet Earth is to nature (minus David Attenborough’s distinguished narration).

The series documents chefs in far-flung destinations and overlays interviews with dramatic music to reel the viewer in. I’m that fish who gets hooked every time.

Who’s the Chef?

Tonight’s episode features Chef Ana Roš, a chef I’d never heard of. This is exactly the point of the show—to introduce cutting-edge culinary talent to food-obsessed people like me.

Chef’s Table serves up unusual food adventures in destinations around the world. It delivers them to our living rooms to be enjoyed alongside our UberEats and DoorDash orders.

Food is presented much like a docent introduces a Manet at the Met. A well-thought-out but concise narration of the artist and painting. Using all the right descriptors to whet the appetite, create intrigue, and allow for personal interpretation.

My husband lights a fire, and we settle in. Ready to travel to Hiša Franko from the comfort of our well-worn leather couch? Beside us, the dogs are snoring. ‘Where are we going tonight?’ I wonder as I pull a cozy Sferra blanket over my legs.

Slovenia.

Slovenia?

Do they mean Slovakia? Sardinia? Or, Armenia? Where is Slovenia? We are less than two minutes into the show. I press pause to find an Atlas. My husband sighs.

‘Slovenia is in Eastern Europe, above Croatia, below Austria. Next to Italy and Hungary’, I proudly relay to Daniel. ‘Some might say north, south, east, and west,’ he replies with undiluted sarcasm. I ignore him. Geography lesson complete. I press play.

The episode chronicles Ana’s unlikely journey from a woman destined to become a diplomat in Brussels, who instead inherits a local inn and restaurant. With no culinary training, she turns it into one of the best restaurants in the world and inadvertently puts Slovenia on the culinary map.

Franko’s house

Ana Roš and Valter Kramar took over his family’s inn and restaurant, located deep in Slovenia’s Soča Valley, in 2000. It had been owned by the Kramars since 1970. Franko is Valter’s father. Hiša means house. Franko’s House.

The inn and restaurant are not only Ana and Valter’s business; they are also their family home. With Ana in the kitchen as the chef, Valter was able to realize his lifelong dream of creating a cheese and wine cellar.

Valter ages his ‘Tolminic’ cheese for years and stocks his cellar with natural Slovenian vintages. His appreciation for crazy and unusual wines adds yet another dimension to the dining experience at Hiša Franko. Ana and Valter are as naturally paired as their food and wine.

Find out about Hisa Franko’s availability and even more glowing reviews here!

Serendipity

Years after watching Hiša Franko’s episode of Chef’s Table, we plan a family trip to Istria, Croatia. My trusted atlas is again put to good use. I quiz Daniel, ‘Did you know that the Istrian peninsula borders Slovenia?’ A slightly raised eyebrow leads me to believe I just may have sparked an idea.

Serendipitously, we discover our Istrian villa is within driving distance of Hiša Franko. That is if you consider 4 hours driving distance. I hop on the computer and make a reservation.

With far fewer destination diners to compete with, I secured a reservation for our date. But truth be told, Slovenia isn’t simple to get to even when there isn’t a worldwide pandemic. And, even if you are already in the country below it. Correction, south of it.

I didn’t factor in the border crossing. Or the need for a 48-hour advance negative COVID test to cross it. More importantly, there is the minor issue of transportation. Details to be figured out at later date (aka procrastination).

What kind of foodie are you?

There are two kinds of foodies. Those who would drive 4 hours for lunch, and everyone else. If the thought of driving 300 miles round-trip for a meal seems reasonable to you, then you are my people.

At 8am, we leave our villa. Our minivan driver is a Croatian woman named Marta. She tells us about a lesser-known border crossing into Slovakia, I mean, Slovenia. This is August in Europe, and border traffic is a killer. Passport in hand, the excursion feels like a covert mission.

En route to Hiša Franko, we pass hamlets puddled at the base of towering mountains. It’s a dreary morning, and fog hangs low in the air, cutting the mountains in half. This only adds to the mystique of the journey. However, it creates drama, especially as we drive through dense forests filled with Croatia’s famous truffles. My excitement is as palpable as the earthy, musky scent in the air.

Border patrol

At 915am, we pull up to a sleepy border patrol crossing cut into the hills. Why do I feel like I’m doing something illegal? This is just lunch, after all, not the finalé of The Sound of Music.

Menacing clouds press up against the Slovenia landscape in the distance. My hand shaking slightly, I hold up my phone to show the border police photographic evidence of our negative test results. I accidentally swipe left, and the faces of my nieces fill the screen. Whoops.

The policeman grunts a guttural, ‘cute’ at their insta-worthy faces before I quickly swipe back to the results. The rain starts to gain momentum. He waves us through. We are in Slovenia. 3 hours to go.

Colors of Slovenia

The sun cuts in and out, revealing towering mountains with sheer rock face walls. Thick clouds that pool heavily in the valleys are just beginning to lift. The scene auto-fills with gem-like tones. Lapis lazuli, malachite, and topaz eke through.

In the final stretch to Hiša Franko, we notice golden flax-rolled hay bales, an emerald green river (no doubt filled with trout), and lush trees. The colors, after hours of heavy rain, are unreal.

At Hiša Franko, It’s all in the details

It’s 1145am. When we arrive at Hiša Franko, the sky is fully transformed. The ominous weather has moved on. Or, maybe it never reached this magical enclave in the Soča Valley. It hardly matters now. The blue sky is a gift after hours of murky fog and narrow, winding roads.

The Hiša Franko farmhouse is located just beyond the small settlement of Kobarid, (est. population: 1060, as of 2016). Its exterior echoes Benjamin Moore’s ‘Dark Salmon’ paint chip.

Flowers the colors of ripe red fruits spill out from tall shuttered windows. Originally built in the 1860s, it’s a small peach of a building set in front of a big apple-green mountain.

The common spaces at the inn are designed by someone with a true eye for art and photography. I intend to seek that person out, but can’t help thinking it’s none other than Ana and Valter. That their eye for food and wine naturally extends to every other type of design comes as no surprise.

Inside Hiša Franko’s dining room, the warm hues continue. Tomato red walls act as a rich contrast to white linen. A long, central, wooden table is the hub for wine bottles, glasses, and barware. Valter’s domain.

Abstract art is framed along the main wall of the intimate space. It’s aligned at the baseline, which is atypical. As is the decanter, which spirals upwards like a snake being charmed. I am in love with the decanter. I hope my husband reads this before Christmas.

Hovering disk-shaped light fixtures lower the ceiling and add even more intimacy. It’s subtle details like these that make me appreciate all that has gone into making Ana’s restaurant such a treasured place.

23 and me

How does one prepare for a 23-course lunch? With healthy trepidation and an empty stomach. We are no strangers to chef-led dining experiences, as it’s the surprises that make them all the more worthwhile.

We are a group of six, including my 17-year-old daughter. Hiša Franko is one of her first true multi-course, experimental culinary adventures. I am silently proud when she opts to try everything despite any preconceived notions of what is being served.

This is no simple undertaking, as many ingredients are unlike anything we have seen, eaten, or even heard of before.

I’m prepared for the variety of locally inspired ingredients. The hearty foods that have kept Slovenians fed for generations: notably, lamb, pork, and trout. I’m less prepared to see bear paw on the menu. Immediately, I assumed that bear paw is the name of a wild mushroom, like Lion’s Mane or Hen of the Woods.

Leave it to my curious daughter to point to the menu and ask, “Is this really bear paw?’. ‘Indeed it is!’ comes the unexpected reply.

Our server goes on to explain that a certain number of brown bears are culled each year due to the increase in population and the risks they pose to local villagers.

Was I ready to try it? Ummmm, sort of?

The meat of the bear paw is supposedly very tender, on par with slow-cooked beef. Our bear paw is minced and nestled into a beautiful dumpling. The dumpling is surrounded by a forest consommé and topped with green leaves.

I savor each bite, letting the earthy broth linger on my tastebuds. It’s worth the trip for this course alone.

Yet, there are 22 more to go.

Chestnut dumpling filled with bear paw, forest consommé

Hiša Franko: A story of reincarnation

Our menu is titled, ‘Reincarnation.’ It’s particularly fitting, as Ana effortlessly brings new life to humble ingredients. Cauliflower is accompanied by black truffle, egg, milk skin, and buttermilk powder. Trout is cured with fig leaves, barley water, cucumber, and elderflower.

Valter’s cheeses are served with local beeswax and nettle gnocchi. Unique combinations of well-known ingredients create layers of new tastes and textures. A culinary story of rebirth.

Corn beignet, fermented cottage cheese, smoked trout roe, wild chives

My favorite course at Hiša Franko is one that I had prematurely decided would be my least. Two warm corn beignets are plated on a thick slab of a tree trunk. Inside is a mixture of fermented cottage cheese, smoked trout roe, and wild chives. Heaven in a bite. Always trust the chef.

Each course is one artistic expression of Ana’s homeland after another. I photograph discreetly to have visual proof of a meal that is almost too hard to describe.

Impression of charcuterie

Valter’s Cellar

Hiša Franko’s menu has three ways to pair wine: ’Funky’, ‘Local’, and ‘Juicy’. We choose ‘Local’ as I can’t imagine having the opportunity to try eight different types of Slovenian wine again in the foreseeable future.

While I’ve never heard of any of the wines being served, each is a natural fit for its course. A 2013 Royal PetNat, a 2005 Stemberger Cherry Oxy, and an intriguing wine called Aci Urbajs Organic Anarchy are examples. If I didn’t say it then, Valter, thank you! Next time, I’m coming back for ‘Funky’.

Choreographing a meal at Hiša Franko

Hiša Franko’s dining room is slightly more formal than its farmhouse exterior belies. The servers are dressed in what can best be described as costumes rather than uniforms. Their jackets are adorned with bold patterns of vines and clusters of grapes. The experience is an organic, whimsical, and well-orchestrated performance.

It’s a ballet of sorts. Touches of theater are dotted throughout the meal. The way our table had three servers present each course in unison, making sure to use eye contact to stay in sync.

World’s Best

Ana and Valter’s is just the kind of unlikely, unconventional, and unexpected culinary story that the world needs. A world where a small restaurant, deep in the virtually unknown Julian Alps, is discovered and acknowledged for extraordinary food. Where a chef with no formal training can not only thrive, but reinvent.

Ana Roš’s star is still rising, and we are all the lucky beneficiaries of her journey. If we choose to follow.

Her story is just one reason of many to visit Armenia, I mean Slovenia.

Find out about Hisa Franko’s availability and even more glowing reviews here!

October 31, 2021
The best ways to explore Croatia. Land and sea.

Croatia is one of the most alluring countries in Europe. I say that with conviction, having visited three times in the past decade. Why is Croatia’s magnetic pull so strong? It is the rich cultural roots, devastatingly beautiful scenery, and welcoming people, for a start. Read on to discover two of the best ways to explore Croatia.

“Land or sea, which is better?”, I’ve often been asked since returning from Croatia last month. Why don’t we have a friendly competition? Allow me to introduce the players.

The Land

The Istrian peninsula, in the northwestern corner of Croatia, is shared by three countries: Croatia, Slovenia, and Italy. While Croatia possesses the largest part of this heart-shaped land mass, Italian and Slovenian influences are strong. Italy is so easily accessible, that the seaside town of Rovinj offers day trips to Venice.

Istria’s landscape is carpeted in trellised vineyards and gnarled olive trees. Clusters of flowering oleander hug crumbling rock walls in colors that might inspire Nars’ next shade of lip gloss.

The hilltop village of Motovun has dense, oak forests filled with prized truffles. In Pula, a 1st century AD Roman amphitheater is the historic centerpiece of the city. Pula Arena now welcomes visitors, rather than gladiators.

Istria, a treasure trove of riches.

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Villa Barbara, in the center of Istria’s heart, is where we spent our week on land. The villa offered manageable drives to picturesque villages and local restaurants, while also providing on-property entertainment.

The Sea

With over 1200 islands, the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia has no trouble exceeding expectations. The islands of Croatia surrounding Dubrovnik are so tempting, and so sought-after, that we decided to seek adventures farther afield.

In both 2015 and 2018, we chartered a gulet, and navigated popular tourist routes. Either starting in Dubrovnik or Split, and visiting the islands of Hvar, Korčula, Brač, Mljet, and Vis, along the way. This summer, we started our journey in historic Šibenik, where the river Krka flows gently into the Adriatic Sea.

A gulet is a traditional wooden sailing vessel, usually with two or three masts. Many gulets have been repurposed as private charters to take visitors around the Mediterranean in comfort and luxury. For anyone raising an eyebrow in doubt, this is not your grandmother’s Celebrity cruise.

Accommodations in Croatia: Land

Set on nearly six acres, Villa Barbara has everything a large family gathering could want. Tennis and basketball courts, and a golf range, for the most active among us. Ping pong, foosball, billiards, and bicycles, for the slightly less active. A pool, sun loungers, and hot tub, for the essentially inactive (ummm, me).

Poolside, I would watch swallows dip into the water for a sneaky sip. I noticed the billowy clouds which would later create dramatic sunsets. The property is surrounded by stone walls that are edged with hydrangeas exploding in pink. The air is heavily scented with lavender and rosemary.

Villa Barbara is modern, with modern amenities, and easily accommodated our group of 13. It has six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, and an enormous open-plan living space.

Space—a non-negotiable requirement when traveling with family. Floor-to-ceiling windows open to the pool, which made indoor and outdoor life blur together.

Accommodations in Croatia: Sea

If Villa Barbara struck the utopian combination of indoor and outdoor living, the gulet Perla is full-tilt outdoor life. 99% of our waking hours were enjoyed on deck in the Croatian summer sun.

Roughly 100ft in length, the Perla has seven cabins (each with an en-suite bathroom). Finding that all-important personal space is hardly an issue. There are soft lounge cushions on the deck towards the bow, and a wide, shaded daybed, at the stern.

In between, are several other areas to (quite, literally) check out. Some are just right for coffee, others for late-afternoon cocktails. There is a spot at the very tip of the bow to recreate that famous Titanic moment. (Not the one with the troublesome iceberg).

Our days at sea took on a rhythmic flow—a natural migration from the stern to the bow. Around 8am, we’d emerge from below deck for breakfast, then flop onto the daybed as the crew pulled up anchor. Some of us would begin to head towards the sun loungers, with books, coffee, and SPF 50, in hand.

A siesta would beckon around 2pm, induced by a hearty lunch and a few bottles of white wine. By late afternoon, we would settle towards the bow, ready to anchor and let the afternoon activities begin.

The sea has its own agenda. Glassy, flat, and still in the morning, as if it too, had trouble waking up. Breezes would gather, and by midday, the sea is a hive of activity. Naturally, easing the passage for sailboats and schooners alike. Stillness returns in the late afternoon—the color of the water mirroring the colors in the sky.

A gulet is a playground on the sea. I didn’t have to be ten years old to enjoy jumping from the deck into the gentle, turquoise waters. (However, I do think there should be an age limit on backflips).

The Perla has more toys than necessary, as the sea itself provides endless entertainment. Nevertheless, we’d make constant use of the kayak, two stand-up paddle boards, waterskis, wake board, and donut. Snorkeling equipment, and colorful noodles, are ready and waiting for the anchor to drop.

Exploring Croatia: Land

It is always hard to leave the grounds of a great villa, and many of us didn’t. Those of us interested in touring the countryside and seaside ports of Istria took small trips to satiate our curiosity. (aka: bribing kids with gelato to join).

Rovinj is undoubtedly the star of Istria’s coast. A fishing port with narrow, cobbled pedestrian-only streets to explore. A marina filled with super yachts to ogle over. A Michelin-starred restaurant at which to dine, and a storybook old town to over-photograph.

Pealing church bells would mark the hour. At noon, Rovinj is at the height of activity (and heat) which is an excellent time to leave. I took one last look upwards at the looming church tower punctuating the cloudless sky.

For a moment I wished I was still at the top of the town, admiring the Basilica of St Euphemia’s, and stealing licks from my niece’s gelato. But, the villa pool called, as did lunch, and a glass of chilled rosé.

There was far more to see in Istria than time would allow. Like, medieval Motovun which hovers at 900 feet above sea level. Also, the settlement of Hum, is known for being Croatia’s smallest village, with a population of 30.

Exploring Croatia: Sea

On land, we explored Croatia by car, finding villages with the help of Google maps and Waze. Karlo, Perla’s expert captain, and his skilled crew steered us directly to islands in the Adriatic Sea. It is the ultimate way to get a full sense of the coast. However, it’s not the ultimate way to burn calories. Note to self: turn off the step counter app at embarkation.

Life at sea is inherently nomadic. A constant and mesmerizing world streaming like BBC’s Blue Planet docu-series. Every so often, the barren landscape is interrupted by the distinct terracotta roof tiles of a village. On a lucky day, we might spot a pod of dolphins, or a lone tuna thrashing through the water’s surface.

The beauty of visiting some of Croatia’s lesser-known islands is the lack of tourist traps, cruise ships, and tatty souvenir shops. Instead, insert gelato shops, lined with locals still dripping in wet bathing suits. Insert kids selling shells, rather than lemonade, along the waterfront.

Croatia’s best places to visit; a shortlist

Zlarin: I am inclined to deny the existence of Zlarin, for fear that tourists will overrun it. Fishing boats, smaller than most American SUVs, bob gently in the marina, their Yamaha engines pulled up for the day.

Mustard yellow paint peels from Zlarin’s humble church tower. Kids’ bike bells ding as they race past their grandfathers playing bocce in the town square. A fairytale existence, playing out in real-time, against a dramatic sunset on this small island. Zlarin—my favorite Croatian island.

Murter: Murter doesn’t get the airtime of Korčula or Brač, but this island is as scenic as any other. And, without the heaving crowds. Its main town is confusingly also called Murter. At dusk, we strolled leisurely along the harbor, noticing kids playing with old-school toys, rather than new-age gadgets.

I could hear music escaping from windows embellished by sea foam-colored shutters. Restaurant patios began to fill up with salty, sandy diners, just in from a day at the beach. Murter—my favorite Croatian island.

Primošten: Cruising into the harbor of Primošten just might be my favorite moment of the trip. The sun was just beginning to set behind this medieval fishing village and created a fiery orange aura around it. We were all enchanted, nearly silent, as the sun dipped further and cast the island into a black silhouette.

While I could have watched the island from the boat all night, the town beckoned. In August, Primošten has a buzzy summer holiday vibe, and restaurant tables pool into the streets. The sound of laughter, lapping waves, and clinking glasses fill the air.

Our group dispersed, some on the hunt for gelato, others for a pint of Guinness. Primošten—my favoite Croatian island.

Feasting in Croatia: Land

Understanding a place by its regional spices, local ingredients, and culinary traditions, is one of the more entertaining ways to explore a country. It would be somehow unfair of me to ignore Croatia’s viticultural landscape.

The wines produced in Croatia naturally accompany the food—and are a part of the country’s culinary history and soul. Croatia—consider me your humble student.

Some evenings, we hired a local chef on-site for dinner. On other nights we would cook for ourselves. We would form groups. For reasons that need no explanation, husbands, wives, and kids, from the same family were not grouped together.

Home cooking presented yet another interesting way to explore the Istrian culture. Supermarket culture, that is. Countless trips to Plodine (the Safeway of Croatia) ensued. We hunted unsuccessfully for mint and basil. We received frantic gestures from Croatian shoppers—our mysterious supermarket faux pas to be forever unknown.

Roasted suckling pig at the villa was a dinner highlight. Known in Croatian as Odojak na ranznju, it was not only delicious but a large form of entertainment. The kids watched it rotate for hours on the spit.

Meneghetti Wine Hotel and Winery, Bale, Croatia

A wine hotel? If I had known such a place existed, I would have visited Istria years ago. With an amphitheater of vines, centuries-old, stone buildings, a Relais & Chateaux restaurant, and a 15-suite hotel, Meneghetti is an oenophile’s paradise.

We decided to have a pre-lunch wine tasting. This is a wine hotel, after all. We lost ourselves in the light, pale, citrus, notes of Malvazija Istarska (Malvasia), among other varieties.

An hour later, we stumbled to our shaded spot at Oliveto. Light breezes ruffled the patio umbrellas. Waiters moved effortlessly from table to table. They delivered beautifully prepared entrées, like pasta with shaved summer truffles, veal Osso Bucco, and bottles of Meneghetti wine.

We were overdue for a long, boozy, lunch, and the al fresco patio at Oliveto beckoned us to linger.

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Hiša Franko, Kobarid, Slovenia

Would you drive three hours for a three-hour lunch? How about crossing an international border to get there? If it were served, would you try bear paw? It turns out there is very little I won’t do or try, when it comes to food. Especially when that food is created by one of the world’s top chefs, Ana Roš.

Our prix-fixe, 23-course lunch at Hiša Franko, (currently ranked the 38th best restaurant in the world, with two-Michelin stars), is worthy of a post of its own. Watch this space.

A dining experience like this requires a culinary leap of faith. I placed myself in Chef Ana’s skillful hands, and let go of any food perceptions I harbored.

Hiša Franko glows from the inside out. The farmhouse exterior has warm, salmon-colored walls, while the interior is painted a rich, tomato red. The red walls, and avant-garde lighting, highlight the eclectic artwork that adorns them. Flowers are in abundance, and the verdant green mountains are particularly rich against the blue sky.

Chef Ana describes her menu, called Reincarnation, as ‘curious, fun, and confusing’. She exceeds on all points in the most enticing ways. Ana’s food is as artistic and innovative as the paintings we sat beside, perhaps even more.

The corn beignet with fermented cottage cheese, smoked trout, and wild chives, was an unexpected standout, among many unexpected standouts. Tortilla with alpine mole, rowan berry oil, fermented beets, and roasted lamb, was another. But perhaps, nothing surprised us more than chestnut dumpling filled with bear paw, topped with a forest consommé.

My 17-year-old daughter asked if it was really a bear paw. It was a question the rest of us were too intimidated to ask. And indeed, it was. Wild brown bears overpopulate Slovenia, so bear hunting is allowed (and actually provides very tender meat.)

Hiša Franko: A journey for the most adventurous foodies.

Feasting in Croatia: Sea

Our days on the Perla would revolve around food. One perk of boat life is never having to worry about finding a dinner reservation for thirteen. Not to mention, overordering, underordering, or miscalculating the currency conversions.

Our talented chef, Boke, understood our dining style from the first day. That is not to be underestimated when you consider that he must cater to different nationalities, eating habits, food allergies, and tastes, every week.

Mornings would start with the smell of bacon (no one is allergic to bacon). A continental-style breakfast of yogurts, cereals, fresh-cut fruit, and eggs, would follow.

Lunch was served around 130pm, and might include a salad of local peppers with zesty onions, feta, and olives. Filets of local monkfish or other local fish would grace the table.

We devoured hearty bread that stood up to the Istrian olive oil we would slather it in. Boke would always surprise us with a simple dessert to top off the meal. By 230pm, I often lapsed into a food coma.

Dinner, typically served between 8-9pm, was my favorite meal. By then we had all showered off the day’s salt water and sun and were ready to reminisce about the day’s antics. Some nights we would have simply grilled meats, with salads, and vegetables.

Other dinners were fish-based, like Croatian Shark (dogfish), or swordfish. Each night, Boke would create a surprise dessert that satisfied those of us with a demanding sweet tooth (re: everyone).

Land or Sea, who wins?

One could argue neither wins, as it comes down to personal tastes. Both, however, gave me permission to slow down and to be pulled out of my daily routine. Even if only for a few weeks. Permission to relax, engage with my kids, play games, and get lost in thought. Isn’t that the point of a well-earned holiday with family we may not have seen in far too long?

I wonder where I draw my energy from. Is it the land, or the sea? Do I prefer a fixed, or a nomadic, life? Would I ever eat bear paw again? These are questions I am happy to keep pondering. Maybe, one more visit to Croatia will help.

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Author’s Note: I’ve cruised the islands of Croatia multiple times. And have formed a wonderful relationship with the owners of Adriatic Cruising, who own a fleet of four lovely gulets. If you have any interest in being introduced, please contact me. My email is: [email protected] and I will happily put you in touch.

Where will you find yourself next? Just click:

Tack Dubrovnik on to your Adriatic adventure and stay at, hidden-in-plain-sight, Villa Dubrovnik.

Montenegro is practically next door. Consider a stay at the 15th c. island village—Aman Sveti Stefan.

Prefer to sail in the Caribbean? The Windward Islands are calling.

September 9, 2021
Best. Day. Ever. Deplar Farm.

Where to stay in northern Iceland? Deplar Farm is the one /

In Iceland, there are more than 50 different words to describe snow.

In Iceland, the population is so small that there’s an app to make sure you don’t accidentally date your cousin.

In Iceland, they joke, “What do you do if you get lost in an Icelandic forest?” Answer: “Stand up.”

In Iceland, more than half the country believes in elves and trolls.

I am enamored with Iceland, in awe of Deplar Farm, and already wondering when I can go back.

I am tempted not to write this post. To leave Deplar Farm tucked far away in the Troll Peninsula of northern Iceland. Allow it to remain a well-kept secret. Two flights, including a sleepy four-hour layover at a regional airport, and a nearly two-hour road trip, will certainly keep less adventurous souls at bay.

With only 13 rooms, Deplar Farm houses a maximum of 32 guests. There are no other accommodations for miles. So when Deplar Farm is at full capacity, the whole of the Fljót Valley is capped for tourists.

Deplar Farm: At your service

At arrivals in Akureyri, Iceland’s 4th most populated town, we meet Emily, our point person for the next eight days. At Deplar Farm, each family, couple, or group, is assigned a ‘personal experience manager’ for their entire stay. It’s Eleven Experience’s technical term for guide, lifeline, cheerleader, Icelandic guru, and all-around nice person.

There’s nothing that can’t be requested of your experience manager. Whether or not it’s ever been done before is of little concern. “Daniel, do you want to go fat bike riding after the 10am hike and before your 6pm skeet shooting?” “Sure!”. “Do the kids want to head out into the countryside to play a game of laser tag after dinner?” “Without a doubt!”. ‘Jamie, how do you feel about throwing axes?” “Ummmm, is that a joke?” My husband calls Deplar Farm a summer camp for grown-ups.

Sheep in Iceland are allowed, by law, to roam the country. Unfortunately, they devour any newly planted trees. Hence, the joke. I guess Iceland is destined to be barren in favor of satiated grazing flocks.

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‘Up to eleven’: Eleven Experience raises the bar

Eleven Experience, the company behind Deplar Farm, has flipped the script on what luxury travel looks like today. A finely balanced combination of adventure plus understated elegance. The cross-section of high-end service and thoughtful details in a remote setting.

In Deplar Farm’s case, a converted sheep farm on the Troll Peninsula becomes our home away from home. Any fan of the film, Spinal Tap, will remember the reference to taking the volume up to eleven. Going above and beyond, setting the highest bar, is the Eleven Experience.

Farm Hotel, Boutique retreat, or Icelandic lodge?

Deplar Farm opened in 2016 and is set up, first and foremost, as a gorgeous home. Upon arriving, we pass by the cathedral-arched, glass-bookended dining room, with an oversized communal table. A welcoming spot where we will spend convivial farm-to-table meals meeting people from all corners of the globe.

A wall of artfully designed stuffed Icelandic birds would make any ornithological taxidermist swoon. Other lovely seating nooks are scattered around Deplar Farm to enjoy the views, nap, or read a book while drinking tea or coffee, which are always within arm’s length.

At Deplar Farm, the Views rule

Floor-to-ceiling windows are positioned throughout Deplar Farm so that you never need be without a look out towards the mountains, lake, sheep, or slow-moving fog that dramatically comes and goes each day.

There are multiple geothermal springs and an indoor/outdoor pool, my favorite one having a view of the setting sun (albeit at nearly midnight in the summer) and a cleverly designed swim-up bar.

A small, circular plunge pool is nestled into the grass should one want to shock the body after the warm springs. Our kids take turns seeing who can stay in the 34-degree water the longest. I sit nearby with a gin and tonic.

The Viking Spa at Deplar Farm

The small wooden door built into a grassy knoll outside is hobbit-like. Take care not to miss it. The ‘go green’ mentality is top of mind at Deplar Farm. The ever-green rooftop of the lodge is an example. Guests are given reusable water bottles for their stay rather than plastic. In-room fridges are always stocked with ice-cold replacements.

Deplar Farm’s Lucky 13

Each of the beautifully-appointed farmhouse-style rooms is a homespun treasure. Our room, the Grettir, is named after a famous Viking outlaw. It has a fireplace, personal sauna, stand-alone tub, outdoor veranda, and a mini-loft.

I melt into the oversized, puffy bedding each night from a combination of exhaustion, alcohol, and overeating. Our fridge is filled with beer, wine, sodas, and chilled, reusable, water bottles. A Nespresso machine and a wide variety of herbal teas dot the shelves.

Our kids stay in a bunk room on the lower level of Deplar Farm, adjacent to the communal family room. With a flat-screen TV, Apple TV, X-Box, shuffleboard, and an enormous U-shaped couch, the living room is as inviting as any room in our own home.

They spend lazy afternoon hours rolling around on the furniture as if they live here, I think they wish they did. They then roll right into their bunk room to await tomorrow’s adventures.

Deplar Farm’s Family vibe

The strong family vibe among the staff, experience managers, and guides, who I’m told outnumber the guests by 2:1, is tangible. We often find our favorite bartender, Dan, playing ping pong with our son in the game room.

Food and Wine. More Food, and More Wine.

Ivan, the sommelier/host extraordinaire, greets the dining table each night with a cheeky grin and a story about the food and wine we are about to enjoy. Having Garðar Garðarsson, Iceland’s Chef of the Year, create locally-sourced menus each night is my culinary dream come true. The son of vegetable farmers, he effortlessly creates masterpieces for the vegetarians at the table.

No one leaves the table hungry.

On the non-vegetarian front, Arctic Char fished from the neighboring lake, reindeer tartare with locally-foraged mushrooms, and Wolffish are a few highlights that grace the table.

One evening, a Fred Flintstone-sized leg of lamb, slashed off the bone, machete-style, is presented, en masse, on a large, rustic, wooden board. A Michelin-worthy presentation.

Deplar Farm Life

With over 20 hours of sunlight each day, there is never a rush to wake up early for activities. Breakfast is at the civilized time of 9am. Icelandic yogurt called skyr, as well as granola, freshly made loaves of bread, smoked or cured fish, and fresh fruit, were set up on the sideboard.

The lower floor of Deplar Farm is made with comfort and tranquility in mind. The floor-to-ceiling windows that define the upper floor are here as well. There is a yoga room, meditation room, gym, and massage room. There are also two sensory deprivation Isopod float tanks for those who want to relax in a less conventional way. A sauna, steam room, and indoor/outdoor geothermal pools round out the space.

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Colors of Iceland

The magic of Iceland is palpable. Rich, muted colors cover the vistas—layers of green hues overlapping one another. Icelandic horses, braying sheep, and the occasional house that looks painted into the hills.

The sun set around midnight, although in truth, it never looked fully set. Having natural light for so long each day makes for non-stop adventure followed by non-stop relaxation. I never feel that I am running out of time to do either one well.

Farm, hotel, or disco? Deplar Farm is all of the above.

Dinner is called for 8pm, but we generally don’t make it to the table until 9pm. It’s just too much fun hanging around the classic bar, playing ping pong and foosball. The professional band set-up and the sound system on a loft above the bar are an inspired amenity.

Eight days at Deplar Farm

At Deplar Farm, just about everything is included in the room price: food, drinks, off-property picnics, whale watching, yoga, skeet shooting, biking, hiking, and local village visits, are some highlights. All but a few excursions cost extra.

Having eight days at Deplar Farm gives us the advantage of being able to do almost everything summer on the Troll Peninsula of Northern Iceland had to offer. It gives our experience manager the chance to maximize our time and rearrange our activities as needed.

An adventure (or two) a day at Deplar Farm

There are endless adventures available at Deplar Farm and at nearly every level of fitness. Each excursion is more adrenaline-filled than the last. We spontaneously shout, ‘Best. Day. Ever.’ before we discover it is the Eleven Experience mantra.

White-water kayaking downriver towards Deplar Farm takes us past sheep, and Icelandic horses, and through the Twin Peaks rapids. It’s a snap for my husband and kids, who had earlier in the summer spent nine days rafting in the Grand Canyon. For me, it’s a perfect introduction to the sport.

Deplar Farm’s Ghost Farm

Another day has us canyoneering, a sport that, admittedly, I didn’t know existed until then. I equate canyoneering to hiking upstream through canyons and waterfalls. We sometimes need ropes to climb up and around the gushing falls. Emily and her co-guide for the day, Lillia, ensure no man is left behind or floats away with the rapids.

After two invigorating hours of pushing upriver, playing in secret waterfall caves, and generally behaving like children, I start to wonder how we are going to get back to the van.

Cue the Eleven Experience advantage. Our van is waiting for us after the last vigorous waterfall climb. We pile in and are whisked to Ghost Farm, an intimate cabin outpost a few miles from Deplar Farm.

There, a hot shower with fluffy towels awaits us, as well as a stocked bar, munchies, lit candles, and hot lunch on the stove. The table is set, and we feast on creamy vegetable curry, fresh salad, and warm bread. Afterward, our experience manager whips up a stack of homemade waffles with strawberries for dessert.

To the circus

It seems every day is going to be the best day ever, even on days we thought we knew what to expect. A boat ride to Drangey Island to visit the native puffins, for instance, I thought would be fun, but a tourist trap. When we board the Drangey Tour fishing boat, we see no other tourists, not a soul, aside from our tour leader, Helgi.

Helgi and his dad, Viggo, have run this family-owned tour operation for decades, and know the island like the back of their Viking-sized hands. 300,000 puffins: 6 humans. We are outnumbered.

The steep 600ft climb to the top of misty and mystic Drangey, the aftermath of a 700,000-year-old volcano, is a feat in itself. I struggle to balance my camera and my footing simultaneously.

We learn that a group of puffins is called a circus, and after observing them for four hours, we realize just what a fitting description that is. We also learn that a baby puffin is called a puffling and that when they fly, they look like flying potatoes with their distinctively round bodies. I’m happy to report the chef didn’t serve puffin as another locally sourced ingredient that evening.

Angling to stay at Deplar Farm

Fishing is a major draw for Deplar Farm, the area being renowned for its freshwater Arctic Char and Atlantic Salmon. Many come to Deplar Farm solely for the angling. They leave the property long before breakfast and return well after dinner. We are not those people. However, we think an afternoon of fishing could be a chill way to end our trip.

Again, the day held surprises. After one last visit to the gear shed, we don our orange caps, boots, and waders. Five minutes down the bumpy dirt track, we find ourselves at the Lake House. Like Ghost House, it’s owned by Deplar Farm and is dedicated to guest use.

Icelandic farmhouse chic, it could just as easily be photographed for Architectural Digest’s latest issue. Old, iconic yellow spines of National Geographic magazines sit on the windowsills among other vintage fishing objects.

Our experience manager had reserved Lake House for the day so that not only could we fish but then, afterward, cook what we caught and hang out in the geothermal springs. Again, it has a full bar, more munchies, and an already-prepared multi-course meal to add to our catch.

Goodbye Deplar Farm: Vertu blessaður

I am enamored with Iceland and in awe of Deplar Farm and the Troll Peninsula. I’m already wondering when I can go back. Until then, I will replay the adventures that are still razor-sharp in my mind. Best. Trip. Ever. Thank you, Deplar Farm.

Read more reviews of Deplar Farm here!

August 10, 2021
Uganda, what to see beyond the famous silverback gorillas

What to see, where to stay, and what to do, in Uganda / The famous silverback gorillas are certainly what put Uganda on the map for tourism. And rightly so, as it is the only part of the world where one can see these peaceful, majestic primates. There are none in captivity, so in order to spend any time with them, one must be prepared to travel far. And travel far I did, for a fleeting two hours observing them that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Yes, two hours. Each gorilla permit afforded me exactly sixty minutes with the silverbacks. So, what is there to do with the other 23 hours of the day? A lot, it turns out. Uganda has much more to offer tourists than the mighty silverbacks.

But there is far more to see in Uganda beyond the silverback gorillas. There are traditional safaris to admire the famous climbing lions of Ishasha, for example. Or, sighting the elusive shoebill in the Mabamba Swamp. A boat ride to an island of rehabilitated chimpanzees in Lake Victoria.

What to do in Uganda: A Wild Frontiers Safari

Wild Frontiers was our tour operator, the frontrunner for gorilla tracking and safaris in Uganda. They helped us come up with a bespoke itinerary, secured our coveted gorilla tracking permits, and allowed for some flexibility on the ground. Flights, logistics, and accommodations were well organized and generally worked like clockwork. This is Africa, after all.

Our guides, lovely, warm-hearted locals, had studied for years to be able to tell the difference between the sound of a great blue turaco and a green-breasted pitta. Or, to be able to spot an African fish eagle from a kilometer away. They could drive for hours on end and still have the energy the next morning to prepare a pop-up omelet station on the plains.

We were in constant awe of the Ugandan guides and their wealth of knowledge about the wildlife, flora, and fauna, of their country.

What to see in Uganda: Equatorial Entebbe

Uganda is a landlocked country in eastern Africa. The small city of Entebbe, about 20 miles from the bustling capital of Kampala, is where Uganda’s only international airport resides. Entebbe sits on a peninsula on the northern shore of Uganda’s largest lake, Lake Victoria.

We crossed the lake, and directly through the equator, within three hours of arrival, on the way to visit the Ngamba Island Chimpanzee Sanctuary. The lake seemed angry, and our little boat was tossed around violently for nearly an hour. Spray came at us from every angle, the boat pounded the waves. My eyes remained firmly shut to keep nausea at bay. Uganda—unpredictable from the start.

What to see in Uganda: Hungry, howling chimps

We arrived at the sanctuary, bedraggled, and soaking wet, and set off to see the 49 orphaned chimpanzees who roam the 40-acre island. That’s in comparison to the single acre allotted to the humans who work there and rehabilitate them. The chimps come to the barrier four times a day for food, and then slowly slink back into the overgrowth until the next feeding.

Although the feeding ritual was exciting, we were glad we didn’t plan it after our gorilla tracking later that week, as it seemed a much more commercial endeavor. We were happy to see that the orphaned chimps were well cared for, in a safe environment, and had access to medical attention should they need it.

Where to stay in Uganda: Hotel No. 5

Our boutique hotel, called No. 5, was hidden in a local neighborhood less than a ten-minute drive from the airport. Here, I was to spend two nights before heading off on my own to Queen Elizabeth National Park. From there, I was to meet up with my friend at our lodging in the Bwindi Impenetrable National Park to start tracking the gorillas.

Each of the ten rooms at No. 5 faced a lush, intimate, courtyard, with overgrown tropical trees and plants. There was a charming pool set below the veranda where we would have meals and pre-dinner drinks while listening to the ongoing birdsong.

The rooms were modest, clean, and airy—the gauzy mosquito netting over the beds seemed more for show than necessity but did look quite pretty. Small balconies were a nice touch, a place to sit and listen to the hum of the surroundings. In the early morning, I heard the daily call to prayer as I drifted dreamily in and out of sleep.

Although the menus and meals were very nice at No. 5, they were surprisingly formal, a bit too heavy, and geared toward foreigners. This became a slightly disappointing theme at the various lodges we stayed at, and if I were to do it again, I would ask for more local Ugandan preparations as menu options.

What to see in Uganda: The Mabamba Swamp

While my friend worked for the few days we were in Entebbe, I took advantage of being alone with a guide and my camera. Wild Frontiers helped organize a boat trip through the wetlands of Mabamba. There, I spontaneously turned into a full-fledged bird geek. Don’t judge.

I saw statuesque egrets, metallic blue malachite kingfishers, and weightless African jacanas, to name a few aviary stand-outs.

The jacanas are often referred to as Jesus birds for the way they appear to walk on water. They have a uniquely evolved prenatal care system, and can often carry multiple babies under their wings at once. I was lucky enough to capture this maternal moment in real-time.

What to see in Uganda: The most famous bird you’ve never heard of

The prehistoric-looking shoebill, named for its big, clunky bill, is endangered, and numbers only twelve total across the entire 2500-hectare swamp.

Having never heard of the shoebill, I wasn’t too bothered about finding it, but as beginners luck would have it, we saw one within the first ten minutes of the four-hour boat ride. Even my guide was thrilled to see this elusive and reclusive specimen and reached for his own camera to capture it among the reedy, wetland grasses. I was told it is one of the top five most sought-after birds to spot in Africa. Bucket list bird: check.

The Prettiest, Ugly Bird

A few fun facts about a bird you also may have never heard of: shoebills can grow as tall as four or five feet when fully grown; they lay only two eggs, and after a year, kill the weaker one; they can remain motionless for extended periods of time stalking their prey. The idiom, ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ came to mind as I thought it was, perhaps, the prettiest, ugly bird I had ever seen.

What to do in Uganda: Get local

Instead of driving back to Entebbe from the wetlands, my guide suggested we take a car ferry across Lake Victoria. Flashbacks to yesterday’s tumultuous journey stirred in my mind, but in the name of adventure, I decided to go for it. Lake Victoria, thankfully, was much calmer, and I was able to cross with my internal organs completely intact.

On the way to the ferry, I caught glimpses of rural Ugandan life: little girls danced in open wooden doorframes flaked with colorful paint; women peeled green bananas for makote (cooked plantains), toddlers shaved sugar cane with pangas (machetes). Mopeds kicked up clouds of red dust along the unpaved roads. Vegetable stands, roaming goats, pigs on leashes, women with bushels of fruit on their heads—an evolving portrait of village life.

While waiting at the Nakiwogo ferry dock, I was swarmed by fresh-faced and bright-eyed Ugandan kids. We took a few selfies, and they laughed at seeing themselves on screen. Teens played soccer with empty soda cans, dogs chased their own tails, and mothers fed infants while chatting with friends. That time was a gift. Quietly, I observed the villagers and thought to myself how I’d forgotten how often the simplest things in life are the best.

Where to eat in Uganda: Two Friends

Local knowledge, as they say, trumps all, which is how we found Two Friends, a restaurant situated squarely on the banks of Lake Victoria. With a convivial, remote, rustic island vibe, dangling strings of twinkling tea lights, and a menu of freshly caught Lake Victorian fish, Two Friends was a hidden gem.

Our fish came baked in green banana leaves, served in tin foil, with all of the savory juices to mop up with the rice and veggies. The meal for three, (actually four, as we sent our idling taxi driver his meal, too) and a bottle of wine came to the economical total of $60 USD. It was one of the best meals of the trip, made most memorable by its laid-back and carefree atmosphere.

Solo travels

The next morning, I boarded a bush plane at Entebbe Airport and flew two hours to the Kihihi Airstrip located just outside of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Having never traveled solo before, I was both exhilarated and anxious. Moments after touching down, I met my guide Echy, and any fears I had dissipated. I was reminded of a Ted Talk by Ken Robinson, who advised, ‘Walk towards things that worry you.’ I started to walk.

The safari begins

On our first game drive, late that afternoon, Echy discovered a tree with a flock of gray-crowned cranes perched upon it. One by one, these magnificent birds flew effortlessly across the savannah, over the acacia and fig trees, and towards the descending sun.

Also known as the crested crane, it is the national bird of Uganda, and its likeness sits proudly on its flag. Due, in part, to poaching, it is now sadly on the endangered species list and numbers less than 20,000 in the country.

This majestic bird is distinguished by its head of rigid, golden feathers that look like the crown for which it is named. A large, fire-engine red throat pouch makes it especially easy to recognize.

Where to stay in Uganda: Ishasha Wilderness Camp

Remembering how much I had loved tent life while in Botswana a few years ago, I was excited to get to Ishasha Wilderness Camp, which is located inside Queen Elizabeth National Park, along the Ntungwe River.

The ten permanent canvas tents are rustic, yet have everything needed to enjoy wilderness life. Each tent had a wide, stone, porch with two chairs facing the lazy river.

The porch felt like a front-row IMAX theater seat for BBC’s Blue Planet. A few meandering and thirsty elephants drank from the river just a few hundred yards away. A troop of cheeky vervet monkeys ran circles around my tent, both skittish and curious at the same time, scooping up their rebellious babies in an all too human-like way.

The large, thatched-roof common area was ambient, and open-air, to the river. Here, even more, elephants came to share an afternoon sundowner with us.

It was also where we had our meals. Being solo, I was paired with another lone traveler named Matthew—a charming headmaster from Botswana and an avid birder. Matthew became my safari partner-in-exploration for the following two days.

‘You won’t believe what I saw!’

One of the best parts of being on safari is coming back to the lodge after a game drive to compare sightings and photos with other guests.

Our camp had a magnetic board so we could place markers where we had seen various wildlife each day. Depending upon who you were comparing notes with that evening, the stories sometimes became a game of oneupmanship.

What to see in Uganda: Ishasha

At Ishasha Wilderness Camp, as opposed to No. 5, the mosquito netting was less for show, and more out of need. Yet, as a point of comparison, I have been bitten by more mosquitos while walking my dogs in DC than in my entire ten days in Uganda.

As is typical at safari camps, I was not allowed to wander back to my tent unsupervised, as the animals roam freely. No argument here. But the loveliest sounds were at night when the animals were awake, and I was tucked warmly under the covers listening to the chorus of wildlife. It was truly a shame when I finally dozed off, as hard as I tried not to, leaving the animal world behind until the morning.

What to see in Uganda: Tree-Climbing lions

Queen Elizabeth National Park’s claim to fame is the tree-climbing lion. They are an unusual phenomenon, as lions are not adapted evolutionarily to scale trees, like leopards, for instance. Queen Elizabeth National Park is one of only two places in the world where these rare lions can be found, the other being southern Tanzania. It is widely thought that the reason for their climbing is to escape not only the pesky flies but the severe temperatures.

While lucky enough to spot a few of the beautiful lions, they simply refused to do any of their famed climbing. Content, we watched them lazing on the ground. The male lions of Ishasha are notably dark-maned, making them look even more magnificent and regal.

What to do in Uganda: Sundowner on the plains

There is nothing quite like sunset drinks on safari. After hours of being in a vehicle, bumping along dirt paths, it is a chance to embrace stillness and absorb the surrounding sounds. We spent an hour on the edge of a steep rift, overlooking the lush yellow and green valley below. Gin and tonic in hand, I was in my happy place.

In the distance, elephants roamed, their trunks raised to grab leaves from the trees. Kobs glistened, golden and glorious, in the light. The sun tightened its grip on the landscape, wringing out the last rays of light, and casting vivid colors across the valley.

As if on cue, the sun hovered behind a spindly tree, which created an eerie, stark silhouette against the blood-red sky.

Always expect the unexpected

Every game drive is unique, which is likely why guides never get bored with their jobs. The morning I was to leave Ishasha to meet my friend in Bwindi, was one of those unexpected experiences I should have expected.

The drive was two hours, including 45 minutes to exit the boundary of Queen Elizabeth National Park. Five minutes or so into our journey, Echy jerked the jeep to a screeching halt. I did a quick scan, there was nothing to see, no animals, no movement.

He reversed five yards, and off to the right of the jeep, camouflaged in the tall wispy grass, was a martial eagle sitting on the ground, completely still. Echy whispered to us that the eagle was strangling its prey.

We sat silently. The eagle’s intense, beady, yellow eyes pierced through us like daggers. He was certainly not going to give up his catch on our part. A few minutes later, he flew off to a nearby dead tree to keep watch and protect his kill.

A dead baby kob, (antelope), curled up in a fetal position, lay in his wake. The kob had likely been sleeping while its mom went out to find food, but was discovered by the hungry eagle. A sad, yet realistic portrait, of the animal kingdom. How Echy spotted the eagle while cruising along at 30 mph mystifies me to this day.

Final Notes

I was giddy from the sighting, my first ever real-time kill, so I didn’t notice Echy speaking to the driver of a passing jeep. The other driver mentioned seeing two hyenas out hunting but had unfortunately lost the trail.

Using what can only be described as ‘Spidey-sense’, Echy looked to the distant sky, saw vultures circling, and had a hunch. He threw the jeep into gear, and lo and behold, quickly found the two hyenas devouring their freshly caught prey—another poor kob.

The scene was spellbinding; the light, luminous, and the pond, seafoam blue. The kob was bloody and torn to shreds. We listened to the sound of bones being crushed by the hyena’s unyielding jaws. The vultures tried to close in but were steadily kept at bay. When the hyenas were finished, they knew all too well there would be nothing left.

There is a world of adventure beyond the silverbacks in Uganda. Thank you, Echy, for showing it to me.

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May 7, 2021
The Mighty Silverbacks of Uganda: How To Find Them

Last January, I received a text from a friend of a friend: ‘Happy New Year! Would you like to go gorilla tracking with me in Uganda?’ I stared at the screen for a nanosecond and wrote back, ‘Yes!’

A nanosecond later, I wrote, ‘Wait… what?’

So began nine months of planning that would eventually take us to see the indigenous Batwa Pygmies, through dusty local villages, over the golden savannah of Ishasha, into the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, and ultimately, to the magical moment of finding our first family of silverback mountain gorillas.

Sabotage

Even a few weeks before our trip, I still couldn’t believe that I was going to Uganda. Sabotage seemed to follow from the start. In March, the plane on which we were supposed to be flying, the Boeing MAX 737, was grounded after mechanical failures led it to crash.

In April, a solo female traveler and her guide were kidnapped in Queen Elizabeth National Park, held for ransom, then released. As if that weren’t enough, the tour operator connected to the unfortunate kidnapping issue was, you got it, the one we had hired.

Nevertheless, we remained on track, convinced that we would make it home with a few wild stories to tell. My husband started saving ransom money—just in case.

Finding the silverbacks

Nine months of planning had led up to these next few days, the inspiration and impetus for the trip—tracking the silverback gorillas. In the two-hour drive from Ishasha, (where I had spent the previous three nights) to Bwindi, the landscape shifted so dramatically that I could have been in an entirely different country.

The Bwindi Impenetrable National Park and its surroundings are a never-ending panorama of steep, rounded hillsides, interlocking and overlapping in muted shades of green. Dense foliage replaced the vast golden savannah of Ishasha. Clusters of trees and steep, verdant tea fields took the place of flat, open vistas.

A heavy mist enshrouded the landscape, and then suddenly the sun would break through. The rainforest did not disappoint.

Bwindi is accessible only by foot, and is home to nearly 400 silverback mountain gorillas over 124 square miles. It is protected and owned by the Uganda Wildlife Authority and is a World Heritage Site. An impressive resume, indeed.

Family vibes

Echy, my Ishasha guide, delivered me to Buhoma Lodge, which immediately felt like a home away from home. Not fancy or modern, it nailed the unassuming, homespun vibe I was hoping for during our few days of gorilla tracking. Buhoma Lodge and Sanctuary Gorilla Forest Camp are the only two lodges located within the park boundaries. My friend and I decided to spend two nights at each.

Four nights, two camps

Although Buhoma Lodge and Sanctuary Gorilla Forest Camp are right beside one another in proximity, they are quite different in many ways.

The rooms at Buhoma ratchet up a steep hillside and required an amount of stair climbing that I hadn’t encountered since the Eiffel Tower. The views of the rainforest from our balcony made the climb worthwhile, and my aching quads eventually forgave me. Good practice for the gorilla tracking ahead.

Gorilla Forest Camp

This differed greatly from GFC, whose eight tents are much lower to the ground, nestled, and virtually secluded in the foliage, and had a much more private, romantic feeling.

Buhoma Lodge

Buhoma’s effervescent staff acted like extended family, always with a warm smile and polite conversation. My favorite time of day was when everyone would come together after the day’s trek and swap stories like old friends.

GFC’s staff was a touch more formal and allowed the guests to mingle among themselves. The managers of both lodges were as lovely and warm as the rainforest air and made many daily appearances to catch up with us.

At both lodges, wine was ever-flowing. At Buhoma, hors d’oeuvres were passed and a hanging iron fire pit completed the convivial scene.

GFC had an inviting nightly bonfire surrounded by a circle of chairs where we would curl up with a blanket, and watch the flames with a glass of wine in hand. An occasional storm would pass by, thunder and lightning in the distance. I felt like we were as far off the beaten path as the world would allow.

Thoughtful touches appeared at both lodges; at Buhoma, a hot water bottle on the bed at night. At GFC, toasty electric blankets and a large soaking tub.

Each lodge had convenient charging stations in the common areas so that one would never be caught with a dead battery. GFC offered coffee, tea, and wine service in your tent, and Buhoma’s open-air areas were piled high with coffee table photo books about Ugandan wildlife.

Both/And When Searching for the Silverbacks

GFC was a more modern and upscale lodge, overall. The parent company, Sanctuary, is steeped in philanthropy all over Africa, and in Uganda especially. A few of their impressive philanthropic efforts include supporting the Bwindi Community Hospital (which we visited), The Ebenezer Nursery and Primary School, as well as the Bwindi Women Bicycle Enterprise.

In all of our lodges, we discovered the Ugandan effort to reduce plastic waste. We were encouraged to use reusable water bottles and had access to water stations to refill them.

While both lodges exceeded expectations, I’ll admit, that if I were to go back with friends, I would opt for the more rustic Buhoma Lodge due to its more relaxed vibe. Alternatively, GFC would be my choice if I wanted a more romantic atmosphere.

Ham, our all-knowing guide, and the Silverbacks

Our new guide was named Ham, who I immediately adored. Guiding since 1999, he had gentle, soulful eyes, and an understated demeanor. Ham was filled with local knowledge and stories from growing up in western Uganda. He told us that he didn’t get his first pair of shoes until he was twelve years old. I tucked that piece of info away in my head to pass on to my kids as soon as I got home.

The Silverbacks

The draw of this tiny patch of the globe, where Uganda, Rwanda, and The Democratic Republic of the Congo meet, is the endangered silverback mountain gorillas. There are none in captivity, and only about 1000 are left in the world, all found in this one remote spot. In order to see these noble animals, who, as an aside, share 98 percent of our DNA, I knew I had to be prepared to travel far, hike treacherous terrain, and have oodles of patience.

As you may have guessed, the silverbacks get their name from the saddle of silver hair that develops on their backs as they age. Only the males, who can grow to nearly 500 lbs have this defining feature.

We had permits for two separate treks. Since we had booked this trip late (by African standards), we could only get permits for the Ruhija park entrance, which was two bumpy, pre-dawn hours away from our lodge. At first, this seemed like a setback, and we tried to change the permits, to no avail. In hindsight, it was a blessing.

While the early morning wake-up was painful, the drive to the Ruhija entrance was breathtaking. We were able to watch the sunrise over the hilly tea fields, the sky changing from night to day before our sleepy eyes. We passed women carrying plastic water jugs to the communal wells, farmers tending the land, and the barefoot freedom of kids. All this would have been missed if our permits were at the Buhoma entrance. A serendipitous gift.

Off the beaten path, literally

Advance trackers go out in the early morning hours to help locate the meandering gorilla families. They then radio ahead to the main trackers, so that visitors can find them. Even though their whereabouts are generally known each morning, getting to them is still no easy feat.

Gorillas, unfortunately, do not stick to the paths. They roam. Hiking to them required climbing over thick undergrowth, up and around cumbersome tree roots, and dodging biting safari ants, with the help of machetes to carve the way.

Navigating Silverback Terrain

Vegetation nearly swallowed me whole, and I lost my footing countless times. Safari ants somehow got to places that defied gravity, despite my pants being tucked firmly into my socks. For $20 USD, I hired a porter to carry my backpack. Money well spent, I thought, as she crushed a few safari ants on my back while I navigated the steep and unsteady terrain.

There are about 13 habituated silverback families in Bwindi, and strict rules govern their viewing. Once we found our family, which took nearly two hours on our second trek, we had one hour to observe and photograph them. ‘Habituated’ refers to the fact that the gorilla family has been exposed to humans for enough time that they react normally in their presence.

Silverbacks—The Bitukura Family

The moment I saw my first silverback will be forever etched in my mind, no photo necessary. We were tracking the Bitukura group that morning, and came upon the mighty dominant male silverback, Mugisha, sitting on the ground eating shoots and leaves.

The rest of his family, 12 in total, were mostly arboreal, swinging from the leafy canopy. The juveniles beat their chests (isn’t that a myth?) enjoying forest life. Barely noticing our existence, we were able to get as close as five feet away.

Jungle Love

A dense, deep quiet enveloped me and warmed me from the inside out. The only sounds are the rustling of branches, the low guttural grunts of the silverbacks, and the click click click of eight SLRs shooting simultaneously. Our group sat in relative silence, in mutual awe of the experience.

At times, we jostled for better positioning, and the trackers used their pangas to help us get a clearer view, effortlessly chopping down anything that was in our way.

And then, just like that, it was over. Our time was up. Who knew an hour could go by that quickly? We reluctantly made our way back to the lodge, thankful we had another day of gorilla tracking ahead.

Silverbacks—The Muzika Family

Our second trek managed to outdo our first, in the sense that most of the family was on the ground, and in a group, versus leaping from the treetops. The Muzika group was lively and rambunctious that morning, and after two arduous hours of trekking, we were ready to sit and watch the primate show.

The highlight of that day was when the enormous silverback, Muzika, walked right past me, so close that if I had moved my arm at all, I would have felt his bristly hair on my skin. As per our guide’s instructions, I stayed frozen, allowing him to pass.

Under the dense canopy of the Bwindi forest, the world dimmed. Every so often, a streak of sunlight found its way to the understory, illuminating the foliage, or, if we were lucky, the profile of a gorilla’s face. As much as I wanted to stop taking photos and purely observe, it was a challenging task. The silverbacks are natural models and the clock was ticking.

Family Life in the Jungle

Being such familial animals, I witnessed intimate moments between the silverbacks and their young that felt all too human. Mothers cuddling babies up to their faces, juveniles pushing each other around, and human-like grooming, not unlike the Lice Patrol in the DC School System, I thought.

Silverbacks are distinguished by their nose prints, much in the way we are identified by our fingerprints. Apparently, no two are alike. Even after just an hour with the Muzika family, I could see how the trackers could begin to know one gorilla from another, both through their features, as well as their personalities. And then again, time ran out, and we began our long exit from the forest, happy and sad all at once.

Homeward-bound

Fast forward to three flights and 7,000 Ethiopian Airlines miles. I’m at home, curled up on my couch, searching Verizon FIOS for Gorillas in the Mist. The silverbacks, I imagine, are peacefully roaming the forest, thirty lucky visitors on deck to watch them. Looking back, I am grateful to my friend for sending the text that set this entire experience into motion. Time to look ahead.

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Take on the Medina, and more in Marrakech.
Sail Croatia and the Adriatic Sea on a beautiful chartered gulet.
Spend a few nights on a 15th c. village island in Montenegro.

March 19, 2021
Packing Matters: 5 things I can’t do without

(Please note a few affiliate links below. I may receive a small referral fee should a product be bought through my site but rest assured, I only highlight products I own and use.)

When my husband and I were engaged, he bought me an overnight bag from Coach. It was cherry red canvas, with camel-colored leather details. The regal Coach logo was embossed understatedly in the leather. I loved it and asked him where we were headed, assuming he was planning a weekend getaway.

“This is for our honeymoon,” he replied.

I looked at him blankly. Our honeymoon was a few months away. Three weeks, destination unknown, a surprise from him to me. I laughed a nervous laugh. “So… this is my carry-on?” I asked. But I already knew the answer.

So began the next chapter in my life. One that took me to faraway places to experience different cultures. One that cultivated my packing habits, and challenged the way I saw the practical and the luxurious. Who said that the practical things in life can’t be luxurious? Or, that luxury can’t be practical?

There are countless lists of tips, tricks, and hacks when it comes to packing and traveling. What follows are my top five. How did a one-time over-packer become so streamlined? It all began with a honeymoon in Africa when I stuffed a three-week wardrobe into a weekend-sized bag.

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5/Eagle Creek Luggage

We abuse our luggage. Years of planes, trains, and automobiles, prompted me to research ones that would best withstand our relentless mistreatment. A combination of durability, practicality, and yes, style, was in order. Hello, Eagle Creek. Meet your fan for life.

Why I love it: Our Eagle Creek bags, as you might expect, are battered. I imagine their scuffs and scrapes as badges of honor as I watch them tumble down the ramp of the luggage carousel. Once, when my decade-old carry-on’s zipper broke, Eagle Creek picked it up, fixed it, and sent it back to me. No charge. No proof of purchase.

Practical or luxurious? More practical than luxurious, the approachable price point defies any preconceived logic that things must be expensive to endure. (Cue my husband’s laughter here). My bags are waiting on standby for a travel reboot. So am I.

Shop It: Eagle Creek Gear Warrior Luggage

4/Jewelry Pouch

Many Christmases ago, my mother-in-law gave me one of my favorite gifts. A silky-soft jewelry pouch. Three zippered compartments for earrings, necklaces, and bracelets, and a buttoned strap to accommodate rings. Simple, classic, functional—a trifecta of travel tributes.

Why I love it: Since my jewelry is always in my hand luggage, it is important that it takes up as little space as possible, which is why a soft case is essential. I’ve used mine for about 20 years—it is now stained and worn, but still one of my most treasured travel necessities.

Practical or luxurious? Your choice. A quick Google search reveals dozens of jewelry cases from which to choose and at every price point. Suede, or silk. Canvas, or calf-skin leather. One can find handmade examples on Etsy, modest options on Amazon, and classic, elegant finds on Mejuri.

Shop It: Travel Jewelry Pouch

3/Eagle Creek Packing Cubes

No, this post is not a paid sponsorship with Eagle Creek (although I’m open to the possibility). Yet I would be remiss if I didn’t express how their packing cubes have changed my (travel) life.

Why I love it: I can compress ten summer dresses (without fear of wrinkles) in what is essentially the size of a small laptop computer. I can stuff one cube with every bathing suit I own. I can bring extra empty cubes to sort the worn from the unworn, the dirty from the clean. You don’t have to be an organizational fanatic like me to understand the benefits of cube packing.

Practical or luxurious? Practicality at its best. My favorite is the compression cubes. There is something incredibly satisfying about stuffing a cube to capacity and then shrinking it to half its size. Using cubes, especially on those trips where we are packing and unpacking every few days, keeps me organized, but more importantly, sane.

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2/iPhone Lanyard

While waiting for a bush plane in Uganda a few years ago, I met two women from NYC on a girls’ trip. Each had an iPhone encased in clear plastic dangling from their necks by a simple cord. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier? Form, function, accessibility. Genius.

Why I love it: Never since have I had to worry about losing my phone on a hike, fumbling for it in my bag, or wrestle it from my pocket on a moment’s notice—only to miss that fleeting shot. I immediately bought one when I arrived home, and haven’t traveled without it since.

Practical or luxurious? One could argue both. The luxury of never losing my phone might be a stretch to some, but at $10 from Amazon, it is arguably the most cost-effective, practical luxury on the list. For those who prefer to be branded by a crossbody version, Prada, Celine, and Smythson will cover you—for a price.

Shop It: Universal iPhone Lanyard

1/Family Passport Holder

A true example of luxury for luxury’s sake came in the form of what is one of the most practical travel gifts I’ve received, a Smythson family passport holder. I tend to get flustered on travel days, regardless of my advanced prep, especially at the dreaded immigration desk.

Why I love it: The family passport holder has been a travel lifeline when I am at my most frazzled. Not only does it organize our family’s mass of passports, but it also has slots for our Global Entry cards, my husband’s green card, local currency, and any other documentation needed for the trip at hand.

Practical or luxurious? Smythson no longer makes the electric blue leather family passport holder that we own, which fell firmly in the luxury category. However, they have others that are equally handsome, and well-made. As always, Google can provide endless choices at a variety of prices, materials, and sizes. One might only discover the true worth of this valuable piece of travel kit, when breezing through check-in and customs, on that next international trip. You’re welcome.

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Ode to the battered and worn
While no doubt wheeled luggage is more efficient, if not easier on the shoulders, I still have space in my heart for that red Coach bag. I still have it, and occasionally I use it—as a carry-on.

Kind of boring, but helpful
It’s not rocket science, but here are a few things I do to save, and create space when I pack:
Roll it: I roll everything that can be rolled, that is not in a cube. Most times, I roll, it and then put it in a cube. Rolling keeps clothes from wrinkling and takes up less space. It’s sort of an industry standard, as you will see this tip on almost any uber-packer’s list.
Use those shoes: I want to bring all of my shoes. I try to whittle down to the most necessary, which can be a struggle, and then I stuff them with anything that won’t wrinkle. Undergarments, socks, adapters, cords, chargers, or workout clothes. You’d be surprised how many socks fit into a size six running shoe.
Plane clothes: I wear my heaviest, bulkiest items on the flights, which are frigid no matter the destination. That sweater, coat, or boots doesn’t take up space better utilized for that extra pair of shoes. I then plan to wear that same outfit on the way home, so it never has to take up precious luggage space.
Weight issues: I weigh luggage pre-travel with a handheld luggage scale. For roughly $10, it has saved me hundreds in overweight baggage fees.
Literary donations: I still read real books, and tend to pack at least two or three when I travel. Many hotels these days have libraries where I can either donate or swap titles, once I have finished reading. I love leaving my books behind, curious about the person who might pick them up next. At the same time, that donation provides a convenient space for any souvenirs I may have collected on the trip.

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January 28, 2021
A Passport’s Life (and 10 places to go next)

Is your passport ready? Lately, I’ve thought much about where I have already been and more about where I would like to go next. I have taken a hard look at my soon-to-expire passport. What kind of life will my future passport lead? I have ten ideas, or so.

I am an obsessive collector. At ten, I started collecting postage stamps, fascinated by the colorful, miniature designs and illustrations. By twelve, I was also collecting stickers; Hello Kitty, Miffy, scratch ‘n’ sniff, sparkly, and those satisfyingly tactile, puffy ones.

When I moved to NYC in my early 20s, I began to collect matchbooks, which held the same fascination as those long-ago stamps. I marveled at the tiny advertisements for the restaurants they represented. I collected the annual NYC Zagat dining guides and enthusiastically ticked off the places where I had eaten. I gained weight.

A decade later, I moved to Japan, where I started to collect meishi, (business cards). The intricate kanji, katakana, and hiragana strokes were, in themselves, individual works of art. Typography that complimented the Japanese design aesthetic.

Over subsequent years of travel, I found more to collect; such as shells, ceramics, and Lonely Planet guidebooks, from the countries that we visited. Now, these collections transport me to different periods of my life and act as visual reminders of fabulous holidays.

The Passport: the ultimate collection

The one collection to which I never gave much thought, has been sitting in a drawer, untouched, unused, and unloved, for the past ten months. My passport. A collection of ink on paper, a sometimes round, rectangular, or oval mark, that designates a country ‘visited’.

Last week, I dug up my neglected passport, as we are planning a trip for the holidays. The travel industry lovingly calls it ‘Festive Season’. I’ll bet I’m not the only one who needs a season to be festive.

My passport is about to expire. I am weirdly emotional about giving up this little blue booklet that has given me such joy over the past decade. Ten years—the life of a passport.

Quotes on paper

I have carried this living, breathing, essential document through airports around the world, largely unaware of its weight in my hand. Had I really considered the access and power it provides? As I look more closely, each page holds much interest beyond the dried ink—beyond the colorful stamps.

Thirteen quotes from past presidents, poets, activists, and writers, line the top of each spread. One quote, by prominent scholar and author, Anna Julia Cooper, seemed especially fitting. “The cause of freedom is not the cause of a race, a party or a class—it is the cause of humankind, the very birthright of humanity.” As I write, the United States is on the cusp of a new presidency, and still deep in the throes of a pandemic.

Patriotic scenes and American icons live behind the mess of overlapping stamps. The Statue of Liberty, a bald eagle, and Mount Rushmore, as examples. American landscapes are reproduced in the backgrounds; cacti of the southwest, wide, open plains of the midwest, and tropical palms of the Hawaiian islands.

My travel history

What will be a surprise to nobody who has read up to this point, is that I have saved all of my old passports. I have saved my husband’s old passports, as well as my kid’s old passports (both the US and UK versions). Something about these documents, the ones that literally enable us to ‘pass’ through the ‘ports’ of the world, seem too valuable to casually discard. They unlock history—our travel history, so to speak.

No doubt, the passport system will one day be completely automated. There may be no physical record in which to refer. The stamp will be retired in the name of technology. I’ll miss those stamps and the little blue booklet. I’ll miss certain rituals of the process. I won’t miss the lines or the intimidating passport control workers.

Passport tales: India

The passport that I am about to give up has had a life of its own. I opened up to a page, at random.

The full-page visa that allowed me entry to India in 2011 stared up at me, and stories from that trip started to materialize in my mind. I remembered being ‘encouraged’ to ride a camel to our lakeside dinner near Amanbaugh, the resort where we stayed just outside of Ranthambore National Park. Afterward, I said, ‘I will never ride a camel again, not ever. Not even for a free trip anywhere in the world. Never’. I still haven’t. And I won’t.

Later that week, I was verbally assaulted and nearly arrested after taking a photo of a monkey on a leash. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I tried to prove to the monkey’s owner that I had deleted the image from my camera, as promised. Note to self: always ask permission when photographing people, or tethered primates, especially people with tethered primates.

Passport Tales: Portugal

I flipped ahead a few pages to the stamp marked ‘Portugal’, where our VRBO’s pool turned a putrid, neon, green over the course of the week. Ear infections all around! Obrigado, Portugal!

En route to a Moorish castle later that week, we headed down one of the many death-defyingly steep, narrow, roads that we had come to anticipate in hilly Sintra. Suddenly, a light on the dashboard angrily glared and flashed hot red type. Not fluent in Portuguese, I googled the phrase, assuming that it was something benign, like an overdue oil change.

“Atenção! Falha de freio!” translated to: “Warning! Brake failure!” Was this a joke? Were we being punked in Portugal? I froze in panic, closed my eyes, and prayed to the Portuguese auto gods. As is evidently clear, we lived to tell the tale. What might be less clear, is that to this day, Portugal remains one of our favorite holidays. Oftentimes, the craziest experiences make for the best stories.

Passport Tales: Africa

Turning a few more pages, I found the ‘Botswana’ stamp, and I immediately remembered the cheetah we spotted on our first game drive, just 60 seconds after leaving the lodge. I remembered falling in love with our all-knowing guide, Foster, whose soothing and calming manner made our trip even more extraordinary. I thought back to the safari nighttime chorus of sounds, and how I never wanted to fall asleep for fear of missing it.

Glimpses of other past travel resurfaced. A levitating man in magically realistic Cartagena.The Christmas market in blizzardy Budapest. The harrowing pre-dawn horseback ride in Argentina, when I thought my daughter would file for emancipation papers upon returning home.

I thought of those trips that reminded me of my friendships and relationships. We celebrated my husband’s 40th birthday in Punta Mita, Mexico, gathered six families for an ex-pat reunion in Cortona, Italy, and took a couples getaway to St Barth’s, in the Caribbean. Stories are unlocked, and retold, through the stamps.

Buckets and lists

As a travel writer, this year has presented some clear challenges. I have tried to find creative ways to bridge this less-traveled gap in time. I have dreamt up future travels. I have kept a ‘Travel Lust’ list on my phone—an ongoing and hopefully never-ending inventory of places to see, stay and go, one day.

Where did I most want to go, I thought? I referenced my trusty list—compiled from random sources, over years of reading and research. From Instagram posts and conversations overheard at restaurants. From Travel + Leisure, Condé Nast, and Afar magazines. From the currently-on-hiatus ‘Travel’ section of the Sunday New York Times. (Hear my cry, Mr. Sulzberger, please bring it back.) Gold lists, Hot Lists, bucket lists, and luxury travel blogs.

In no particular order, here are my current top ten:

Katmai National Park, Alaska

Single Thread Farm, Healdsburg, California

Six Senses Zighy Bay, Oman

The Faroe Islands

Lofoten Islands, Norway

Taylor River Lodge, Crested Butte, Colorado

The Uyuni Salt Flats, Bolivia

Amanzoe, Greece

Torres Del Paine National Park, Chile

Snowdonia, North Wales

Dolomites, Italy

Antarctica

For anyone counting, that was twelve. I’m not bad at math, I just couldn’t stop. I have more but am holding back in case I need more material for my next post.

New beginnings

Starting a new passport now might be a good omen. Another way to start fresh, wipe the slate clean, and (literally) fill up a blank canvas. What do the next ten years, the life of my next passport, have in store?

Find your passport. Give it some love, even if you aren’t yet ready to plan a trip. Be content with a trip through your stamps, for now. There are good stories in there, awful stories, and hilarious ones, too. Our passports hold so much more than the faded impressions we have amassed over the years. What kind of life has your passport led so far? Where will it take you next?

Imagine it. I know I am.

Find out what’s hot first

Click here. Be the first to discover the new hot spots your passport can take you this year.

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November 30, 2020
Discover Why Esperanza is the Family Escape You Need

The resort we chose for spring break, not surprisingly, needed to be family-friendly. There is a difference, however, between family-friendly and completely geared toward kids. Striking that balance is never easy, many places have good intentions but fail. Esperanza, in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, had been recommended to me over the years, so we went for it.

It managed to combine all the touches that would make my husband and me happy: the gorgeous views, great food, and thoughtful service, as well as all the things our kids would want. When we booked, we had no idea what would happen in the world just a few months later, but we pushed forward and ended up with a (different kind of) trip to remember.

A Day Like Any Other

It’s March 11th. The president has just announced that all US nationals must return from Europe. There is panic overseas as Americans scramble to get home within two days. There is panic at airports and at universities where students study abroad. There is panic everywhere, it seems. I panic, too.

That evening, my husband and I went back and forth about whether we stay home or go away as planned to Mexico. It’s our kid’s spring break, that coveted two-week bridge between winter and spring, cold and hot. We agree—we will go. An hour later, we agree again—we should stay. The next morning, we agree one more time—let’s just go. Rarely are our views so aligned! Yet, it was far from comforting.

We are aware that this might be our last vacation for a while. We grasp that we are on the cusp of something big. We know our family would benefit from time away, together, and outside of the escalating chaos. We realize that if we go, things will look much different when we return.

We organize ourselves. We prepare to turn around upon touchdown, or, to stay indefinitely, and pack accordingly. Six bottles of Theraflu, five canisters of disinfectant wipes, and three hand pumps of Purell. Is that enough? Are we really going? What did we agree upon again?

It’s March 14th. Lift off.

Touch Down

When we landed in Cabo San Lucas, we were keenly aware that this vacation would be unlike any other. A telling sign was that our plane, normally booked solid at this time of year, boarded only 30 passengers. Social distancing, a term swiftly creeping into everyday vernacular, was not an issue.

The days ahead would be inherently more reflective and heavier with the uncertainty of the future. I knew this trip would be inked in my memory, and not for the usual reasons.

Esperanza

Often, I write about the overall feel of a destination, the gestalt—to use a theory that would make my art history professor proud. My brain simplifies and organizes ideas in a way that is more user-friendly, and more interesting to read. For instance, describing the way the bedsheets felt, or what combination of spices were in that delicious tortilla soup. How, and if, the resort organically settled into its surroundings. Details that prove to be big and important in the world of inspirational travel. Details that make for pretty sound bites.

Esperanza, as anyone can see from photos, is a stunning property that sits upon a jagged cliff above the Sea of Cortez. There is much I can say about the beauty, both natural, and man-made, of this Auberge-owned hotel.

I am going to focus more on the feelings that made our time in Mexico worthwhile, to illustrate the emotive piece of the trip. And, I’m going to write about whales.

Rituals

The main restaurant at Esperanza, Cocina del Mar, is an aerie—as easily suited to hawks as humans, perched high above a small beach. On the way to breakfast each morning, the kids raced to the circular landing at its entrance to glimpse the daily sand drawing. Along the way, we all tried to guess what it might be—a crab, sailboat, and shell. Why this part of the day became such a highlight amused me. I think the idea of a happy surprise was needed, no matter how small.

I naturally fell into a daily ritual of my own. First, I ordered a wellness shot of turmeric root, lime juice, pineapple, and ginger. I didn’t actually enjoy its robust taste or its jarring school bus color, but I wistfully imagined its medicinal value could keep a virus at bay.

What’s Newsworthy?

Next, I read the news, a 15-minute self-imposed maximum, as it made my heart race and my skin heat up. Wasn’t I here partly to escape the news cycle—which was inconsistent, filled with misinformation, and designed to terrify?

Lastly, I looked at the sea, training my vision for the tell-tale puffs of air that signaled a whale’s presence. Some mornings, they popped through the surface like champagne corks on New Year’s Eve, and other days, they were more elusive. This morning routine settled me, and the whale spotting became another highlight of my day. It gave me restorative moments of calm. By the second breakfast, the waiters knew my order, where I liked to be seated, and had a pair of binoculars on standby.

During our week at Esperanza, the world outlook became bleaker, the news became direr. I woke up each day, wondering if this was going to be the last, that we would have to pack up and go. I relied upon the whales to ground my spinning thoughts.

Color and light

The color palette of Esperanza mimicked the landscape. Pale blue, inky blue, beige, and foamy white—naturally soothing colors. Rolling waves edged up, and then crashed below, the rocky promontory where I sat, showing off as if they were a slo-mo video capture for the latest iPhone commercial. Who knew how deafening the sound of the sea could be until you had all the time in the world to listen?

The light was so pretty it appeared to stick to the obsidian-textured rocks. Several hundred wet, black crabs moved as one over them, giving the impression that the rocks were fluid, rather than solid. The gestalt theory again, is the principle of ‘common fate’—that our brains will lump together individual things that move in a similar direction as a group, and consider it one stimulus. It’s pretty clear I had too much time alone with my thoughts at this point, isn’t it?

Animal Kingdom

I watched the cast of crabs (yes, that is the technical term, I just googled it) scuttle as a unit, and immediately felt my blood pressure plummet. Why don’t I watch the Discovery Channel more often, I chided myself. It’s cheaper than therapy! Wildlife viewing—an organic cure-all.

A pair of iguanas played peek-a-boo around the desert-like boulders near the pool. I gathered they were the resident reptiles, and for many days spied them searching for whales with me.

Little Kindnesses

It was clear early on that the resort was overstaffed, having prepared for the normal onslaught of families worldwide to fill their swimming pools, belly up to their bars, and keep the tennis pros on their toes. The resort, a mix of haciendas, suites, villas, and casitas, looked to be at about 40% capacity when we arrived. When we departed, I sensed there were only about 40 guests left.

Waiters glided about the palm-thatched and open-air restaurants, never forgetting an extra wedge of lime for a beer or the preference for soy milk over cow. This was made only slightly easier to remember by the unfortunate fact that the staff outnumbered the guests. At Esperanza, however, attentive service was par for the course, served daily with warm, engaging smiles.

I was impressed by the above-and-beyond kindnesses, the silent and unsaid courtesies that were extended to everyone, by everyone, all of the time. It was as if the waiters, pool staff, and groundskeepers all knew that something was changing and that it may be a while before they returned to any sense of normalcy. They were right.

Images

I can’t say we didn’t fully take advantage of the bubble we found ourselves in that week. Our family bonded in a different way than usual. We were very together, a precursor for the weeks of togetherness ahead.

My son and husband went on a few long desert runs, harassing skittish rabbits along the way. The kids rode waves with local surf instructors. I spent hours coloring with fine-tipped sharpies on the balcony—my current obsession, while the kids made Tik Toks—their current obsession. All of us tore through novels, having brought stacks from home.

The Intrinsic Beauty of Esperanza

I relished any moment that got me past recurring doomsday thoughts. The lulling beach hammock, the statuesque iguanas, the pool waiters who wore pins that cheerfully cried, ‘Yes way, rosé!’. The serendipitous moment I photographed a fisherman just as he reeled in his catch and the way he proudly held up his prize. The prismatic sunsets each night belied the dark state of the world. Those six nights stretched into forever.

The intrinsic beauty of Esperanza was seen, and felt, inside and out. The 17 acres of lush, well-kept gardens, and grounds, are complete with a lovely koi pond, and interesting kid-centric activities like bocce and life-sized chess. The intimate spa is an oasis within the oasis. The nightly bonfire on the balcony of the main entry—all contributed to that escape from reality we were seeking.

Whales

On the day that would become our last full day in Mexico, we spent a few hours at sea searching for whales. The boat picked us up from the pier, and we leisurely motored past the intsa-ready Arch of Cabo San Lucas. This natural rock formation, teetering on the brink of collapse, is located at the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula. Normally overrun with tourist boats competing for pole position, we nearly had it to ourselves.

Our captain was, not surprisingly, well versed in all things whale and had a keen eye for spotting them, even from incalculable distances. Yet, as prepared as we were to see what we came for, witnessing the slow-motion corkscrew movement of a breaching whale is nothing short of heart-stopping. Even the biggest grumps in our group (ahem, Chase and Ella) were without words, maybe for the first time. The whales’ powerful and muscular bodies were awesome; their tails slapped the water like pancakes being flipped by a short-order cook.

Seconds later, as if the universe was trying to tell me, ‘You’ve seen all there is to see here, don’t push your luck.’ a burst of texts from well-meaning friends alerted us of the recent world developments. ‘The US borders are closing’, they wrote — ‘when are you coming back?’

Our time was up.

Closure

We had managed six nights in Cabo San Lucas, and every one of them was a bonus in my eyes. I sat at breakfast, wellness shot in hand, that last morning. If Esperanza does any one thing to perfection, it is dining, where even the indoor seating feels like outdoor seating. And the views were transporting, regardless of the time of day.

Throughout the week, I noticed the guests that had canceled their trips by their absence on the neatly spaced pool loungers. (Loungers that would have been annoyingly spoken for by 7am each morning.) I noticed the lack of ambient noise and family chatter in the empty seats of the restaurants. It was a poignant, quiet, self-reflecting spring break. Not exactly what we had in mind when we booked all those months ago, but lovely in many ways, nonetheless.

My mind filled in those gaps. Another principle of gestalt—is closure. In design, closure refers to how the brain will automatically fill in any missing pieces of an image to create a whole. What missing pieces will I bring back into my life, and what pieces will I purposely leave out when I get home?

Esperanza will once again fill its pools, bars, and suites. It may be filling up as we speak, as restrictions loosen, and people decide they don’t want to cook, go food shopping, or clean dishes for a few days. The thoughtful, and extremely capable staff, is waiting. So are the whales. I’m hoping that the whales are waiting, too.

Where will you find yourself next? Just Click.

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June 19, 2020
Traveling Around the Room

I’ve come to realize that the best way to travel these days, is through my travel memories. In many cases, those memories take the form of photographs that get stored in albums and tucked away on a shelf. But some of my favorite travel memories are in the form of the things I collected along the way. Due to recent world events, accessing those travel memories is as easy as walking around the house.

Maya Angelou wrote, “Every storm runs out of water eventually”.

The world is waiting for the storm to pass. While I wait, as everyone seems to be pointing out, through every news outlet, television show, YouTube video, and Instagram post, I can look at this as a chance to reset, slow down, and pay attention to things I hadn’t been paying attention to before. Was I not paying attention? I can’t remember.

These days, my mornings involve meditation—about 10-15 minutes, in my favorite chair. I like Unplug, and especially love the voice and cadence of Lauren Eckstrom. She is my new very important person. So is John Krasinski. I am all about good news. Even if it is just ‘some’ good news.

I had been a part-time meditator. I wasn’t very motivated and had a bad habit of running through my to-do list while wondering what to make for dinner, and simultaneously petting my pups. This, from what I understand about meditation, is highly frowned upon. I’ve gotten better at keeping my mind on track since my to-do list has shrunk exponentially. My appetite, on the other hand, is not shrinking.

Finding Space

I like the space in my house where I sit. It’s bright, even on rainy days, and has big windows looking onto green grass, a burnt red Japanese maple, and an open sky. I can also hear birdsong, more now because the DC Shuttle isn’t flying over my head every 3.4 minutes. Small things.

On the way to and from that comfy corner of my house, I pass through my living room. The room where we used to have friends over for drinks. The room where we now watch Netflix for hours on end. It is also the room that houses the things we collect.

Small collections of big things.
Big collections of small things.

Shells, matchbooks, Lonely Planet guidebooks, pottery, Japanese kokeshi dolls, biographies, and found objects—to name a few of the things we’ve amassed over the years. I even have a sun-bleached goat’s jawbone that my kids and father-in-law found while hiking a barren hilltop in Turkey. That sounds made up, and gross. It’s neither, I promise.

I’ve spent a lot more time focusing on these collections recently. Not just a ‘Wow, that’s a pretty shell I found when I was in Maine’, kind of focus. More like, ‘remembering the stories that are attached to them’, kind of focus. The family travels that brought them from there, to here.

Starting out

Twenty years ago, when my husband and I started traveling together, we’d pick up a memento from our trip. Some people collect shot glasses, postcards, or, like my old boss from NYC, beach sand. Others collect art, magnets, keychains, or t-shirts. For whatever reason, we always sought out a piece of pottery. That it was made in the country we were visiting was the only requirement. (Although we did break that rule, for a very good reason. Twice.)

Sometimes we disagreed, and one of us had to concede. Usually, ummm, always, Daniel. It was fun to display them around our little NYC apartment when we got home.

When we moved to Tokyo ten years later and unpacked our boxes, we discovered that all of the pieces we had been collecting were in the form of small bowls. It surprised me how consistent we were in our taste over the years. (I’m assuming that no one who knows me is going to find that at all surprising.)

At last count, we had 26 bowls from around the world. I have been looking at these bowls a lot lately, usually after I’ve finished meditating. How often have I walked past them without a thought? Forgetting how they got here, to this house, from Iceland, Bhutan, Colombia, Montenegro, and so on. Decades of stories and memories sitting in front of me. I took out my notebook and started to write. Free time can hold so much power.

Find the Memories Hiding In Your Travel Collections

Click here to get “The Ultimate Guide to Starting a Travel Collection”. It’s free!

Zizi and Andile

In 2017, we took our kids to South Africa. We spent a week in glorious Cape Town, exploring neighborhoods, beaches, wineries, and museums. One night, we stumbled into an area called The Old Biscuit Mill. Located in the Woodstock neighborhood, it is a converted mill that now houses hip restaurants, artists’ showrooms, trendy boutiques, and bakeries. It’s also next door to the famed South African restaurant, The Test Kitchen.

The storefront of Imiso Ceramics drew me like a moth to a flame. Founded by two South African artists, Zizipho Poswa and Andile Dyalvane, their styles of ceramics were different from one another, yet complimented each other seamlessly. The brightly lit, spare, showroom was mesmerizing. From the inky darkness outside, we cupped our eyes, pressed our heads up against the windows, and peered inside.

They were just about to close for the evening but allowed us in. I was inspired by everything. Typically when we travel, something immediately jumps out at me from a shop or gallery. Sometimes, we travel and never fall in love with anything. It was a candy store of beautiful ceramics, and I was that child who wanted it all.

Meeting both Zizi and Andile in the studio made choosing one piece challenging, to say the least. We spent a good amount of time talking with them about the inspirations and techniques of their craft. We fell for both of their styles. It was rare for us to meet the artist that created the ceramics we would ultimately buy.

In the name of fairness, we bought a piece from each of them, and they lovingly packed them up to ship to our home in DC. We bought a hand-pinched piece from Zizi, a white bowl lined with metallic paint and a vivid, blood-red interior. Then, a piece from Andile’s intense ‘Scarified’ collection. Scarification is the ancient African traditional act of cutting the skin in order to ward off negative and evil spirits. The pure white bowl’s exterior was repeatedly sliced, revealing hints of primary colors under the ‘skin’. Each bowl held the intensity of the artist’s culture within it.

A few weeks after our return to the US, our bowls arrived. Now, those pieces sit on shelves in our home and hold the stories of Zizi and Andile, their heritage, as well as the backstory of finding them late that night at the Old Biscuit Mill, just as they were closing up shop.

The bowl that ignited Yet another collection

Santa Fe is a city filled with arts, culture, great food, and gorgeous hiking. Lisa, a friend since my Tokyo days, and I chose it as our girls’ weekend destination—she was coming from LA, and I was coming from DC. We had no plans, aside from a few dinner reservations. The New York Times’ ’36 Hours in Santa Fe’ became our sole guide.

As it turned out, a plan wasn’t necessary, as locals were happy to steer us around the charming town. In fact, we ended up changing a reservation based on a tip from a local store owner one evening. On another day, we ended up at a fantastic Peruvian breakfast dive on the outskirts of town. Local knowledge rules, as always.

After checking into our hotel, we walked around town aimlessly, trying to find the main square. Andrea Fisher Fine Pottery was the first gallery we set foot in, and I still consider it the best. Andrea Fisher has collections of ceramics from several well-known Native American tribes, many of whom still hone their craft on New Mexico reservations, their skills continuing to be passed down through the generations.

Black and white is my go-to color palette or lack of color palette as some might argue. When I first caught sight of the Acoma display of ceramics, I had a hunch I wasn’t leaving New Mexico without one. The layers and levels of detail, especially from the older masters, are impossible to mentally process. That the finely brushed, intricate patterns are created by hand, and not a machine, is a marvel of craftsmanship that I might never be able to wrap my head around.

The Acoma Puebla is not too far from Albuquerque and has occupied a staggering 5,000,000 acres of ancient land for over 2000 years, making it one of the oldest continuously lived-in communities in the United States.

In reading up on the tribe and their pottery traditions, (thank you mom, for the thoughtful coffee table book) I learned that the geometric patterns are applied with the spike of a yucca plant. The folklore goes on to say, that after a pot was finished, the artist would lightly strike its side, then listen carefully for a ringing sound. If they didn’t hear a ring, it would mean that the piece would crack while under fire.

The thunderbolt-designed bowl I bought that day had the honor of sparking yet another collection. Since then, my husband has occasionally surprised me with Acoma pottery for Mother’s Day gifts, anniversaries, and birthdays. I once tried to buy one for him, for his birthday. But my daughter called my bluff, knowing it was sneakily a gift for me, not him. Damn.

Find the Memories Hiding In Your Travel Collections

Click here to get “The Ultimate Guide to Starting a Travel Collection”. It’s free!

Improvisation

The memories that surround what might be my favorite bowl are fuzzy, at best. My memory is not great under normal circumstances, and going from 2020 to 2007 is a stretch. I will have to improvise a little.

When we moved to Tokyo, we started receiving a magazine called Kateigaho, which considers itself the ‘definitive source for Japanese arts and culture.’ Thumbing through an issue, a dazzling insight into the world of which I was now a part, I was mesmerized. Swoon-worthy architecture, upscale hidden kaiseki restaurants, and Japanese art and artisans were the tip of the Asian iceberg, so to speak.

It was in an issue of Kateigaho, very early in our days there, where I saw a photo of an elder Japanese ceramicist and his stunning work. The exquisite pieces he turned jumped at me from the glossy pages. His finishes were unusual, partly matte, but with an imperceptible sheen. The leaves of the Japanese maple, Momi-ji, were a motif that captivated me. It has since become my favorite tree, as well as one of my favorite memories attached to living in Japan. Overlapping leaves create endlessly intriguing patterns as the sun passes through them—just like the one I see out of my window each morning in DC.

I must have tracked him down, visited his studio, and somehow communicated with him. I am sure he spoke as much English as I spoke Japanese. The only proof I have of the transaction is the bowl itself. My memory is blank. I don’t have his name. Nothing to go on but a lost back issue of Kateigaho from 2007, and an illegible signature on the base of the bowl. Look out eBay, I am still searching, and I will find it.

Looking backward, and forwards

Some of my best travel memories are stored in this collection of little bowls—invisible though they may be to everyone else. Every so often, I look at them and remember the places that we went, the people we met along the way, and the travels that changed us somehow, and allowed us to see the world in a new way. I miss travel. The ache is real.

For the time being, I will sit in my favorite red chair, overlooking green grass, watching the delicate leaves unfurl, day by day, on my very own Japanese maple, and meditate. On the way to that chair, I will pass by those bowls and remind myself of their stories. I like the idea of my memories being attached to the objects in my house. Not a bad way to travel, at least for now.

Find the Memories Hiding In Your Travel Collections

Click here to get “The Ultimate Guide to Starting a Travel Collection”. It’s free!

April 24, 2020

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