I am Lost and Found

Tag: adventure

Is San Miguel the World’s Best City? You decide.

Exploring San Miguel de Allende, Mexico /

Visit San Miguel de Allende between March and April. That‘s when the intensely vivid purple Jacaranda trees take over the already majestic landscape. But even if you miss the blooming Jacarandas, you won’t be disappointed. San Miguel is a city that is entirely built around color. Rich ochres, terra cottas, burnt oranges, and lush persimmon dress the Spanish Colonial architecture. They fill every street and passageway with warmth.

Throughout the day, light bounces off the colorful stucco walls, creating ever-changing hues and textures. As the day turns to dusk, those colors shift even further, creating subtler and richer variances.

Named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2008, San Miguel is one of the prettiest and best-preserved hamlets in the Americas. It’s easy to see how this beautiful town, built into the side of a mountain in central Mexico, has been a haven for artists, writers, and ex-pats for decades. Unfortunately, the secret is officially out, as San Miguel was voted the best city in the world by Travel + Leisure in 2017 and 2018. It dropped a spot in 2020 but bounced back with a vengeance to recover its title in 2021.

Does San Miguel deserve the honor? Let’s find out.

Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel

The centerpiece of San Miguel is, without a doubt, the looming neo-gothic church, Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel. Built in the 17th c. with pink and orange facades, spires, and pinnacles, it’s not only the tallest building in San Miguel but the most spectacular. It’s a magical spot from dusk until dawn. Street vendors line the plaza, their heads piled high with straw hats or trailing kids’ balloons.

Folk artists sell their masterpieces. Mariachi bands strike up a tune on a whim. Costumed street performers complete the lively scene. I sit and enjoy the evolving light that plays out over the Gaudi-inspired church. The most iconic piece of architecture in the city, it‘s said that Barcelona’s Sagrada Familia inspired it.

The trees around Plaza El Jardin are tightly manicured, looking as if they were each given a severe bob haircut. The benches that line the plaza are a great respite from the hot sun and to relax during the day.

Rooftop Life

San Miguel is a city that is best seen from two distinct vantage points, street level and from high above. The street level has meandering narrow cobbled alleyways, and I stumble upon an espresso bar cut into the side of a building wall. Ceramic boutiques, art galleries, and free-standing sculptures hide in other alleys. I spy local kids hanging from windows and couples walking hand in hand. Lovely trees abound and add even more color to the illustrious palette.

The other viewpoint is from a perch high above. There are many places in San Miguel in which to achieve this. Our favorite spot by far is Luna Rooftop Tapas Bar at the Rosewood Hotel. A magnificent rooftop in its own right, even if it didn’t boast the best views in the city. But it does, and that’s how we find ourselves lounging for a few hours with cocktails and light tapas as the sun starts its slow descent and lights up the skyline like a Broadway show.

The lucky ones score front-row seats—prime tables with unobstructed views of La Parroquia and its transforming colors. I am awed to think that this happens nearly every night of the year here in San Miguel.

Casa Estana

Thanks to a friend’s generosity, we are invited to stay in his villa just off the main square. Casa Estana is a three-bedroom villa with a spectacular roof deck—the true meaning of a hidden gem.

The unassuming door off the street gives us no inkling of what luxury was to be found inside. We enter an open courtyard with stone fountains. Then we walk through another door into the perfectly appointed home. A modern kitchen, multiple fireplaces, luxury linens, and towels. Colorful flowers adorn the tables on each level.

The true highlight of Casa Estana Is its charming and spacious roof deck. It’s a place to unwind on its plush couches, look down upon the lush trees, or have a drink by the fire pit. Casa Estana has this amazing knack for making us feel like we are in the action and outside of the action simultaneously.

Eating our way through the city

San Miguel has become known as a gastronomic hub in recent years. At one time San Miguel catered to backpackers, but today its appeal is far wider. Restaurants like Moxi and Áperi have attracted a refined and luxury-minded base of travelers to the city.

We eat a few meals at Casa Estana, as it’s a challenge to leave the beauty of the roof deck. One day we venture to Café Muro for lunch. Café Muro is a simple place with wooden chairs and metal tables. Folk art hangs askew on the walls. Located on a dead-end street, it’s easy to miss.

The Mexican food is authentic, and without pretense. I have a bowl of tortilla soup that I‘ll dream about years later. The fresh, crispy tortilla strips are placed at the bottom of the bowl. Our server slowly pours a warm rich broth over it. The soup is then topped off with fresh sour cream and chopped herbs. Sopa Azteca is perfection in a bowl.

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Side trip in San Miguel—Sanctuary Atotonilco

We are told a trip to San Miguel would not be complete without a stop at the Sanctuary Atotonilco. Located about 15 minutes outside of the city, it is an 18th-century church complex and is now a World Heritage Site. An incredible example of Mexican Baroque art and architecture, the murals, inscriptions, and frescoes that adorn every wall and ceiling of the church leave me speechless.

It’s said that the landscape of the town of Atotonilco is reminiscent of Jerusalem, which gives the site an even holier aura. Mesquite trees, desert scrub, and acacia trees are in abundance and we feel transported back in time while walking the grounds.

The exterior of the church is simple and plain, which makes the experience of entering so much more magical. It’s completely unexpected. We spend an hour admiring the architecture and art before leaving for an al fresco lunch near Nirvana, a little oasis in the countryside.

So long, San Miguel

Time passes at a leisurely pace. The beautiful old buildings and churches catch us at every turn, adding to the innate charm of San Miguel. It’s a happy city. A colorful city. And above all, a city that begs us to return.

Click here for my wish list destination hot sheet. It’s free.

Interactive Map: San Miguel

Trip map created using Wanderlog, a road trip planner app on iOS and Android

Looking for More Mexico Inspiration? Click here for Esperanza, the family-friendly resort in Cabo San Lucas.

April 20, 2020
On and Off the Beaten Path, in Tokyo

‘On and Off the Beaten Path, in Tokyo’ is the second in a series of monthly articles I’ll be writing for CIRE Travel. CIRE is a luxury vacation, honeymoon, and corporate travel agency, known for ‘making impossible arrangements possible’. I couldn’t be happier to be a part of a team that is so dedicated to inspiring and organizing travel for their clients.

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On and Off the Beaten Path, In Tokyo

‘IRASSHAIMASE,’ sang the three Japanese saleswomen in unison, all with bright smiles, flawless make-up, and impeccable clothes.

‘IRASSHAIMASE,’ we said, smiling back.

‘Irasshaimase,’ they sang again, although this time they looked more confused than smiley.

We later discovered that irasshaimase meant ‘welcome’, and that we were welcoming the saleswomen to their own store. Cue the first of many blunders we were to make during our four-year stint in Tokyo.

Fitting in

Thankfully, the Japanese were, at least outwardly, tolerant of our foreign gaffes, and over time we learned appropriate social greetings and responses in order to get around more easily. Sumimasen (excuse me), became an instant favorite, as well as the ever-useful, arigatou gozaimasu (thank you). The uses of English words by the Japanese are especially clever. Ok-desu was common to hear, which means, ‘It’s ok!’

Our time in Tokyo was a gift: a chance to explore another world, travel Southeast Asia, and expose our kids to new cuisines, customs, and cultures; a unique opportunity to play the role of a foreigner, and discover how humbling that can be. I was able to spend enough time there to start to appreciate the differences, and similarities, between the East and West. I had the luxury of full days exploring neighborhoods, parks, and museums, with my kids, as well as solo.

The Tokyo Top Ten is Worth it

While I usually like to head to more unexpected and less crowded sites, I found that Tokyo is one of those cities where the top ten are really worth the hype. However, since anyone can Google the top ten things to do in Tokyo, I can offer some alternatives, as seen through the eyes of an American ex-pat in Japan.

Over our years there, I created a list of favorite spots that were on, and off, the beaten path. My list could have unimaginatively been titled, ‘The Top 11-20 Things to do in Tokyo’. It was a list that I edited and added to as I discovered new and exciting places, which was pretty often. Tokyo is a timeless city—I find myself revisiting the list, and passing it along to friends and colleagues who are planning trips to Japan, even now.

52nd Floor, Please

Tokyo is sprawling, covering a staggering 845 square miles. It’s nearly three times the size of New York City, the one we left behind. Where to start when faced with a city of this size? Perhaps, the top. Tokyo City View, in the Roppongi neighborhood, offers stunning 360-degree views that allowed me to get a sense of the entire metropolis, and every so often, when the weather cooperated, what lies beyond. Pressed up to the squeaky clean, modern, steel-framed floor-to-ceiling windows, I felt like I was hovering above the cityscape, parks, and clouds.

I started to differentiate neighborhoods by landmarks in the distance. The cherry blossoms that grow throughout serene Aoyama Cemetery, the red and orange lights and latticework that make up the Eiffel-inspired Tokyo Tower, and even our apartment building. If I was lucky, a glimpse of the elusive Mt Fuji would reveal itself on a clear day. Whenever guests would visit, Tokyo City View would inevitably be our first stop, and it never failed to impress, no matter how many times I went.

Hidden City and other unique sights

A city of nearly 14 million people, Tokyo is made up of 23 wards, each having its own distinct character and local points of interest. We lived in Minami Azabu, an expat-filled neighborhood that was within walking distance of vibrant and colorful Roppongi.

Roppongi caters to an eclectic crowd, as it is the epicenter of nightclubs, hostess clubs, and strip clubs, as well as high-end restaurants and bars. I swear I could actually feel a pulse in the air on any given Saturday night, a mixture of foreigners, students, and ex-pats, all funneling into this neon-lit, over-the-top, skyscraper-filled hood.

In most American cities, shops, and eateries are generally located on the first few floors of a high-rise. In Tokyo, a restaurant, bar, or club could be just about anywhere, even hidden down a long, soulless corridor on the 29th floor of what looked like a generic office building.

‘Finding’ the restaurant I was looking for became part of the nightly adventure, whether deep below ground or looming above. What the elevator doors revealed was a constant surprise: like 360-degree city views from a glitzy supper club throbbing with people, or a low-lit underground bar that felt like a jungle in the Amazon.

Modern Day Tokyo

Architecture in Tokyo is defined, in part, by its catastrophic history. Between the Great Kantō earthquake in 1923, and the firebombing during World War Two, a great deal of Tokyo was demolished. To that end, many of the buildings are post-war, unlike in Kyoto, for instance, where one can find more examples of historic homes, buildings, temples, and shrines.

That said, modern Tokyo architecture is quite remarkable. One of my favorite walks was through the upscale neighborhood, Minami-Aoyama, towards the even more glamorous Omotesandō. Along the way, I would inevitably stop to stare at the imposing and radically bubbled glass exterior of the Prada store.

Built in 2003 by Herzog & de Meuron, the Prada Store is a striking piece of contemporary architecture. According to the architects, the design’s intention is “to reshape both the concept and function of shopping, pleasure, and communication, to encourage the meshing of consumption and culture.”’ Isn’t that just a long-winded way of saying that the store is super cool?

The Prada Store is one of many design marvels in the area. It seems each high-end shop is looking to outdo the other, whether in terms of avant-garde window displays, intricate packaging, or overall design aesthetic.

Kiddyland, Not Just for Kids

Omotesandō Street may be lined with luxury flagship stores like Valentino, Chanel, and Givenchy, but the toy and electronics mecca, Kiddyland, will hopefully never lose its pole position on the street. While named Kiddyland, many of the daily shoppers are not kids, at least not by chronological age.

The store has broad appeal and draws in shoppers like magnets with its moving displays, Japanese gadgets, flashing lights, buzzing noises, and fog machines. I could usually stomach no more than 20 minutes inside, most of which was spent chasing after my surprisingly quick, sensory-overloaded kids.

Puppy Love

I had once overheard someone joke that the Japanese had stopped having kids and started having dogs. The proof is in the excessive number of dog-related and inspired boutiques scattered throughout the city. While window-shopping sometimes, my excitement would often escalate, and then fade, as I realized that the clothes on display weren’t for kids, but for dogs. It was true that most of the Japanese dogs were dressed better than my own kids.

I’d see well-put-together Japanese women wearing their tiny dogs, often nestled neatly into a Chanel handbag, the way I might wear a gold bangle. Dog as an accessory. Even more intriguing is the plethora of dog nail and hair salons. Tokyo—a good place to be a pooch.

Harajuku-Style, as unique as it gets in tokyo

Quirky shops are in abundance in Tokyo, but when I wanted to get a real insight into what was trending among the Japanese youth, I went directly to Takeshita Street in Harajuku. An array of Japanese street-style stores litter the pedestrian-only walkways. Shops vary from vintage clothes, to cosplay, to cheap makeup, and crêperies. Above and beyond the curve, and often a thrilling exhibition around each corner, Harajuku is modern-day theater.

Infamously catapulting them to the pop stage, Gwen Stefani used Harajuku girls dressed in sexy schoolgirl uniforms as backup dancers for her 2004 tour. There was a frenzy of backlash against Ms. Stefani at the time, accusing her of exploitation. Nevertheless, Harajuku remains a hotbed of youth culture and style. Where Goth meets Hello Kitty, and the rainbow afro meets the dainty school girl. An explosion of color, creativity, and cultism.

Basement Level Lunch

As unappetizing as it sounds to eat in the basement of a department store, it is just this kind of unexpected surprise that makes Tokyo all the more fascinating. Food halls, or depachika, are located in the basement levels of large, often upscale department stores, and offer, aside from food, unique insights into Japanese customs and culture.

I was amazed, but not surprised, to learn that the average depachika sells nearly 30,000 items. Walking around the subterranean stalls and kiosks, it was easy to be mesmerized by the sheer number of over-the-top displays, which sell everything from bento boxes to Iberico pork, decadent caviar to delicate confectionaries, and mochi to matcha.

The markets sell both traditional and non-traditional foods, all packaged with cutting-edge designs and exquisite typography. I was particularly blown away by the flowers—each arrangement, to me, a precious piece of artwork that begged to be photographed. Having come to travel writing after a career in graphic communications, I was in constant awe of Japanese design.

Enchanted, in the city

Rocks, sand, and gravel are as essential to a Japanese garden as flowers, plants, and trees. It was impossible to tire of the different gardens and parks nestled within the cityscape. Time and again, however, our family ended up at unpretentious Happo-en, a garden located close to our apartment in Minato-ku.

Happo-en means ‘beautiful from all angles’, and indeed, it was. Originally built in the 17th century, when Tokyo was called Edo, it is a jewel box of a garden. Happo-en is comprised of a rollicking stream, a pond overflowing with bright orange koi fish, meandering stone paths, and a simple tea house, among other treasures. Often, we were some of the only visitors there, and our kids ran freely, hopping over rocks and taunting the koi.

A highlight of Happo-en is its magnificent display of bonsai trees, most around 100 years old, and one particular specimen dating back more than 500 years. If I kept my gaze low and ignored the skyscrapers on the outskirts of the garden, I could almost imagine I was living back in the 1600s. A bucolic spot tucked away in the busy city.

Don’t call it a museum

Even though I have a background in art, I’ll admit that I am not much of a museum-goer. I’d rather sit at an outdoor cafe for a few hours to absorb the culture of a city, rather than be cooped up indoors looking at art on walls.

The Nezu Institute is not an ordinary museum. It possesses a unique combination of all there is to love about a traditional museum; fine artwork, cultural artifacts, and sculpture, but then creatively utilize the outdoors as artwork, as well. The combination of glass, concrete, and natural elements, such as bamboo, pebbles, and stone, creates an enchanted oasis that is virtually hidden in the neighborhood of Aoyama. The gardens became yet another exhibit within its vast collection, both endlessly tranquil and expressive.

The entryway to the museum is thoughtfully designed—a 50-meter-long walkway, with a pebble and bamboo-lined thicket on one side, and a soothing row of cut bamboo on the other. Tiny dots of light radiate from recesses in the ground. Thus, your slow journey into Nezu starts with an imposed pause—a chance to decompress from the bustle before formally entering the museum grounds.

The indoor, traditional part of the museum, is known to house one of the most important private collections of Asia’s pre-modern art. With close to 7,000 pieces, including scrolls, textiles, paintings, and calligraphy, it could take the better part of a day to view.

I chose to spend most of my time outside. The overly lush gardens, along with a tea house and a hidden pond, are worth a quiet stroll. I would often go solo, with my camera, of course, each season prettier and more photographic than the last. Undoubtedly, autumn was my favorite time of year to visit, when the colors of the Japanese maple leaves, momi-ji, would turn from green to red, to rust over the course of the season. Calling Nezu an oasis in the city’s center would be to completely understate it.

Top Temple

Although no doubt on every top ten list, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my favorite temple to visit in Tokyo. In busy Asakusa sits Sensō-ji, in many ways looking like a fish out of water among the post-war buildings, flat rooftops, and skyscrapers. A Buddhist temple, Sensō-ji was bombed during World War Two and then later rebuilt as a ‘symbol of rebirth and peace.’ Touchingly, in the temple’s courtyard lives a tree that has regrown within the husk of a previously bombed one.

Sensō-ji Temple is dazzling, with its rich red and gold color palette, imposing gates, and larger-than-life, five-story pagoda. Incense lingered in the air as I wandered. I was fascinated by the opulence, the golden statues, and the intricately painted woodwork. At Nakamise, a famous shopping street alongside the temple, I would collect souvenirs like yukata (a traditional Japanese robe), or snack on an onigiri (rice cake), as I roamed. A trip to Sensō-ji was a highlight for every friend or relative I brought there.

Sayonara

They say all good things must end. So it was with sincere reluctance that we packed up our lives, and moved back to the States. As I remember back to that time in Tokyo, I am reminded of another gaffe, this one by my husband, who would walk into his office after a business trip and announce ‘oshibori!’ with gusto, beaming with pride at his command of the language.

I’m not sure for how long the office let him keep this up. I picture all of the giggles and grins from his Japanese co-workers. Daniel was repeatedly, and emphatically, announcing ‘hot towel!’ upon returning to the office, rather than his intended, ‘hisahsiburi!’ which means ‘long time, no see.’ Until we meet again, Tokyo. Sayonara.

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February 21, 2020
Reykjavík, Iceland: ‘Should I go to the Blue Lagoon?’

The first question anyone would ask when I spoke of our upcoming trip to Reykjavík, Iceland was: ‘Are you going to the Blue Lagoon?’

It would lead one to think that it is the only place worth seeing in the entire country. The Blue Lagoon had not originally been on our hit list, as I thought it would be overcrowded and gimmicky. As it turned out, we ended up arranging it at the last minute, just 12 hours before boarding our flight home to DC.

‘Was it worth the hype?’, everyone asked later.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Capital charm

Let me back up a few large, Icelandic, steps. Reykjavík, the funky, charming capital city of Iceland (and about 30 miles away from the Blue Lagoon, as is worth noting), was not our ultimate destination. We were headed north, via another flight, to Deplar Farm for a week on the Troll Peninsula.

We decided to spend two nights on the back end of our trip to get under the surface of ‘the world’s northernmost capital city.’ Reykjavík, Iceland is a small city, such that it can be explored in just a few days. But exploring, and genuinely getting under the surface are two different things, and I would have loved a little more time given the chance.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Small-town vibes

Reykjavík has the appeal of a small town, with its cluster of trendy and interesting neighborhoods. It felt like a movie set, with a lively cast of characters milling about. Colorful, pitched rooftops, edgy mural-covered storefronts, and brightly painted houses provided an endless visual panorama as we roamed around.

This is a city that is certainly not afraid to express itself, and what it lacked in size, it made up for in energy. Locals passed one another with a wave or a smile, everyone seemed to know each other. With a population of only about 128,000, perhaps they did.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Alda

City trips tend to overwhelm me, even though I have lived in big cities my entire adult life. I am often racing to get out of the city and into the countryside when on vacation. Reykjavík, Iceland defied this anti-city mentality, and I found myself daydreaming about living there.

Given we only had two days, we chose a hotel from which we could access the main sights on foot. This turned out to be just about every hotel in Reykjavík. The Alda Hotel is on Laugavegur, the main shopping street. Boutique in style and size, the Alda was simple and modern and had views of the rooftops across the low-lying city. Each room provided guests with a complimentary Android phone to be used throughout their stay, which was a nice touch.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Three Barbers

My favorite part of the hotel, by far, was the on-demand barber shop that faced the street and could also be accessed through the lobby. Situated next to Alda’s bar/restaurant, you are welcome to have a beer or cocktail while getting cut and shaved. The Barber website sums it up well, “three guys with a passion for cutting hair, shaving beards, and partying.” Quite a mission statement. The retro red and white frosted glass and old-fashioned barber chairs were insta-ready. Large street-facing windows gave passers-by a chance to watch the barbers in action. Another mini-movie set in this mini-city.

Apparently, these partying barbers have won ‘Best Barber in Reykjavík’ twice. I signed up my son for his back-to-school haircut (via text-only, so as to only minimally disrupt the party, I imagined), whether he wanted it or not. No joke, it was the best cut he’d ever had, and I wondered how I could get him back there every six weeks.

Reykjavík, Iceland: City Essentials

Every city should have a strong caffeine game, in my opinion. This is because there is nothing I enjoy more than sitting at an outdoor cafe with a cappuccino, watching the world go by. I especially love this in a foreign city, where I get to charge up and absorb the culture at the same time.

Cue Reykjavík Roasters, a hipster coffee joint if there ever was one. The design ethos is ‘great-grandma’s house chic’. With mismatched, upholstered furniture, vintage coffee accessories, and an old turntable with oldies to turn, Reykjavík Roasters, is ever-so-slightly full of itself. However, the coffee is really, really good, so I guess they can get away with it.

Their coffee is meticulously sourced from Central and South America, Kenya, and Ethiopia. The cherry on top (or perhaps I should say, the crema on the espresso), is that one of their locations is just a few steps away from the most divine pastries I’ve ever tasted.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Braud & Co.

I was told that if I didn’t arrive early enough, I could miss out on the melt-in-your-mouth cinnamon buns from Braud & Co., the uber-popular Reykjavík pastry shop. I took this as a personal challenge, and despite the fact that I don’t even eat cinnamon buns, it became an immediate priority.

I couldn’t pronounce most of the items on display; kanilbollur, Bláberja & Lakkrís, Danskt súrdeigsrúgbrauð, and Rabbarbarastykki, Brunsviger, prove my point. So I did what any desperate sweet tooth (or greedy four-year-old) would do and just pointed to everything I wanted. We paid, took our treasures and coffees up the street, and sat outside to feast.

It is just as well that I don’t make a living as a food blogger, as I am usually about halfway through any meal before I remember to snap a pic. That said, even a half-eaten rabbarbarastykki from Braud & Co. looked heavenly.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Eat, walk, eat, repeat

I’ve always had a soft spot for a good food hall. Borough Market, in London; Union Market, in Washington DC; and the Shibuya Food Hall, in Tokyo are a few notable faves. I love being able to sample lots of flavors and unusual cuisines in one handy place.

Reykjavík has a surprising number of food halls. At the recommendation of one of our fearless guides from Deplar Farm, we headed towards Grandi Mathöll, aka old harbor, passing fishing vessels hauling in the daily catch. The day was brisk but sunny. A row of warehouses lined the marina, which is where we finally found Grandi Mathöll, the cavernous, savory-scented food hall.

Rustic-chic picnic tables filled the space. Transitional square paneled floor-to-ceiling windows let in oodles of natural light and offered sweeping maritime views. Was I in the mood for kimchi, Icelandic lamb, or Cuban jalapeño poppers? Maybe pizza with a ketonic crust, or deep-fried fish and chips? Grandi Mathöll kicked each of our individual tastebuds into overdrive.

Gastro-what?

Be that as it may, my husband and I had one thing on our minds, the crispy, spicy, chicken burger from the mobile Gastro Truck. Another instagrammable moment, The Gastro Truck had a cool, matte black finish with unique wooden details. It prides itself on the idea of elevated street food. Whatever they want to call it, it was worth every crispy, spicy calorie.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Wandering

In August, the sun didn’t set until almost 11pm, which elongated our outdoor wanderings and allowed us to sleep late each morning. There was never a need to rush (cinnamon buns aside) and our two days felt especially leisurely.

We ducked in and out of boutiques, the interiors just as interesting and decorative as the exteriors, due to the wealth of intricate murals, and richly-colored painted shops.

Progressive Reykjavík, Iceland

According to the Social Progress Index, Iceland is one of the most socially progressive countries in the world. It also blazes a fiery trail in gender equality, and has been cited by The Guardian as, ‘one of the best places in the world to be a woman.’ This all adds up to an open-minded, laid-back, and refreshingly forward-thinking culture.

All along the main and back streets of the city were hidden gems; restaurants, bars, homeware, and design shops, and art galleries. Every so often, we’d pass a tourist kiosk that promoted various adventures easily accessed from Reykjavík. Having just spent an adrenaline-induced week of adventure on the Troll Peninsula, we opted to stay in town.

Off the ground

Keen to see the country from a different angle, I stopped at one of the kiosks in search of a possible helicopter excursion. It took less than five minutes to organize a 90-minute helicopter ride for the following day. My husband and son politely opted out, which left my fearless daughter and I to catch a glimpse of Iceland from above.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Wheels up

The next morning, a driver from Reykjavík Helicopters arrived at the hotel entrance and drove us ten minutes to the tiny Reykjavík Domestic Airport. Within minutes of arriving, we were wheels up with Thor, the pilot with whom we would put our trust for the next few hours.

Experienced and knowledgable, Thor confidently swept us north, away from the city, over majestic waterfalls, and then eventually to a massive glacier.

At 640ft, Glymur holds the title of the tallest waterfall in Iceland. Glymur’s gangly shape looked like a long, towering trickle from overhead. Thor circled to get a closer peek, and my stomach lurched as we dipped directly over the top of the waterfall. My daughter was in her element, thrilled yet relaxed, a huge smile across her face. Mother/daughter bonding at its best.

Thor had told us there was no guarantee we would be able to land on Langjökull Glacier “long glacier”, as it was weather permitting. While it was cloudy and overcast in the city, by the time we got to the glacier, blue skies prevailed. Thor prepared to descend.

Reykjavík, Iceland: Glacial landing

I stepped out of the helicopter as if I was Neil Armstrong landing on the moon, each step tentative, my eyes wide in awe. Arctic nothingness in every direction. Langjökull glacier, at 30 miles long, is the second largest ice cap in Iceland. And at 1,900 ft thick, I had little fear of falling through the ice. But, we stayed close to the helicopter, as instructed, taking a few selfies and videos as proof of this magical tableau in the clouds.

There are at least two active volcanic systems beneath Langjökull, and we saw one caldera, called Hveravellir, in the distance. The silence was deafening and ethereal. The air was completely still. My daughter and I savored the vistas until Thor said it was time to go.

On the way back to the airport, we straddled North America and Europe from above, observing the continental drift between them. The rift of the tectonic plates was clearly visible from the air.

The largest natural lake in Iceland came into view, glassy and reflective, as we ended the tour. We reluctantly said goodbye to Thor, both thinking he had the coolest job in the world.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Adventure capital

Extreme adventure opportunities in Iceland are endless. With 10,000 waterfalls, 125 volcanoes, and 269 known glaciers, one could spend a lifetime exploring the natural elements alone. The land of fire and ice is no joke.

Yet, there is a time for adventure and a time to chill (no pun intended). With that said, I’ll go back to the Blue Lagoon, was it worth the hype?

As I mentioned earlier, the Blue Lagoon was not part of our itinerary. Only when I serendipitously discovered A.) it was halfway to the airport from our hotel, B.) our flight wasn’t until 6pm, and C.) the overpopulated lagoon had a separate, more private area, called The Retreat, did I pick up the phone and book.

The Blue Lagoon, or Disney?

Calling the Blue Lagoon a tourist trap is the ultimate understatement. According to Lonely Planet Guidebooks, the Blue Lagoon is the Disneyland of hot springs. It is unclear whether the writer thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. I know what I thought.

The area where the Blue Lagoon was built is a UNESCO Global Geopark, which sounds quite industrial. I imagine the bold and daring juxtaposition of the natural and the man-made defines its intrigue and captivates so many tourists each year.

Reykjavík, Iceland: The Retreat

The addition of The Retreat Hotel was finished in 2014. With its own entrance, spa, restaurant, and lagoons, we had the experience of the geothermal spa without the crowds. Basalt, the architecture firm that built it, cleverly incorporated natural elements, (wood and lava) with raw concrete to design a low-impact and modern structure that maximized the unique landscape, and complimented its natural beauty.

There was a viewing deck to look out over the main lagoon, and visually it was quite spectacular. A masse of people waded around the pools with the industrial geothermal plant smoking in the distance. The entire adventure was so unique, I would be hard-pressed to tell anyone to skip it, as we nearly did.

The area surrounding the Blue Lagoon was unlike any of the other places we visited in Iceland. Low, lava-crusted fields seemed to sprawl out for miles. The color of the milky blue water against the porous black lava was extraordinary and added to the otherworldly aura.

At The Retreat, different levels of warm pools snaked around bridges and pathways. The soft mud that forms at the base of the pools is created by the high silica content, which gives it the iconic turquoise color. Unfortunately, photos at The Retreat are forbidden, but I took my fair share from the viewing deck into the main lagoon to capture the scene.

The water temps hovered around 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and the combination of sulfur, silica, salt, and algae, felt soothing to the touch. I think I now know why slime was so popular with my kids. Having the lagoons pretty much to ourselves, it again felt like a movie set, although this time an alien sci-fi genre.

The geothermal waters are supposedly beneficial for the skin, and we spent four hours pre-flight, in and out of the water, applying various mask treatments to ourselves while in the dark, subterranean spa. There were meditation rooms and swinging basket chairs to curl up with a book. Our kids got lost for a while, but thankfully we found them in time to head to the airport.

Hype? believe it.

It was only a 4 1/2-hour flight home, but it felt like we had come from another planet. As I write this post, it’s nearly December. The daylight in Reykjavík is as limited now as it was in excess in August (sunrise: 10:29am, sunset: 3:58pm). A mere 5 1/2 hours of light, and lessening each day. Winter—an entirely different way to experience Iceland. Northern Lights? I’m all in!

Where will you find yourself next? Just Click.

Cape Town is a city where you can have it all; sun, beach, hikes, museums, not to mention world-class food and wine.

Tack on a few days or more at intimate Deplar Farm. It is the ultimate family adventure in Iceland.

Take to the sea—the Adriatic Sea—on a privately chartered sailboat for a week around the islands of Croatia.

November 25, 2019
Sailing Croatia: Why I never took the same trip twice. Until I did.

Sailing Croatia and the Dalmatian Coast /

Nearly three years to the day of our first sailing trip along the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia, we found ourselves there again. The same boat, but a new captain, crew, islands, bays, and coves to explore. Not too much had changed there in those three years, and in the best possible way. Swooping seagulls, secluded island villages, schools of iridescent fish, and the gentle flapping of the Croatian flag off the stern of the boat as we motored along in the warm, fresh breezes off the coast.

All of the things we couldn’t stop thinking about since our first trip in 2015, and were looking forward to experiencing again. Arguably, a few more tourists had descended upon the country, but it still felt like it was ours to discover.

Until Croatia, we had never taken the same trip twice. It’s a big world, and we love traveling to new countries, cities, towns, and villages. It seemed a poor use of a short life of travel to do the same trip again. But something about sailing on a beautiful, wooden gulet—all of our needs taken care of by a capable and convivial crew—and living life on the water for a week, was worth a do-over.

Sailing Croatia: Gulet Life

Maybe the allure of sailing as a mode of travel is simply a contrast to my typically nature-starved life. The idea of straying off the grid, gliding along the sea effortlessly, all the while admiring what Mother Nature has to offer, is liberating. The landscape, islands, and villages bathed in amber as the sun begins its descent each evening, is just one memory I had seared in my mind from three years ago.

Our first sunset on the boat was after a short motor to a quiet bay off the island of Jaklijan. The sky went through a frenzy of vibrant colors before eventually settling on a supercharged array of deep purples and hot pinks. With every passing minute, I thought the sunset couldn’t get better, and yet somehow, it did. It was a strong debut to a week of dramatic skies, day and night, each sunset and sunrise different and yet equally mesmerizing.

Sailing Croatia on The Kadena

Part of what makes boat life so unique is that everything you need and want is within reach and sailing along with you each day. Our lovely gulet, the Kadena, was a gorgeous wooden sailboat, immaculately cared for by the captain and crew. Originally built in 2000, but refit in 2017, the Kadena is 105ft long with six berths that can accommodate up to 12 guests, with room for two extra kids if need be. Stately cabins, en suite bathrooms, airy and open seating areas indoors and out, as well as a wood-paneled master cabin that is especially spacious. It is floating luxury at its best.

My favorite spot on the Kadena, without a doubt, is the covered day bed at the stern of the boat. The wide soft cushions are the perfect spot for a shady nap or a spot to read while never losing sight of the scenery or the feel of the breeze.

It happens that the owner’s son, Tom, was our captain for the week. With our talented and accommodating chef, Boris, as well as the two other endearing crew members, Jean and Ivan, there was very little we needed to think about aside from taking advantage of the sea, and the views, and wondering from which bay we should enjoy our cocktails each evening.

Our boat came equipped with aquatic toys of every kind: snorkeling gear, two stand-up paddle boards, a two-person kayak, a tube, and waterskis.

The kids screeched and squealed while being pulled in circles at breakneck speed sitting in a large floating donut. Crewman Jean, commanding the dinghy, intuitively accommodated the boat’s speed based on each child’s age and his or her level of adventure.

Each day, after a few hours of either motoring or sailing, we would anchor, and the kids would immediately hurl themselves off the boat for the remainder of the day, jumping and diving, only stopping to eat meals. The crew rings a bell when it’s meal time and the reaction is classically Pavlovian!

The grown-ups were equally ready to take advantage of the water toys, but also spent hours on the cushy sun loungers that dotted the top deck, played cards, read, and snoozed in peace while the kids repeatedly jumped ship.

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Chef Boris

The food on the boat was simple, yet inspired, Chef Boris created beautiful three-course meals of freshly caught fish like sea bass, monkfish, and swordfish, accompanied by Mediterranean salads and fresh vegetables. The meals were topped off with ice cream or homemade desserts. He was careful to take our dietary restrictions into careful consideration and came up with creative alternatives when necessary.

Breakfasts were a lovely array of either scrambled eggs, bacon, or crépes with Nutella, Greek yogurts, fresh fruit, granola, meats, and cheeses. Breakfast was certainly taken to a new level, enhanced by warm breezes as we motored along each morning while we ate. Thankfully there were cappuccinos, teas, and other caffeine-charged drinks on hand for those who needed an extra boost to become human each morning.

Our days were guided by whim, the itinerary having been set and discussed in advance with the captain, but able to be modified should we want to change course. Sailing, in my eyes, is one of the most free-ing ways to spend a day. At any given moment we passed island towns puddled together with their omnipresent terracotta rooftops and stone churches, the limestone houses looked like tiny ruby-topped jewel boxes.

The circadian rhythms of our days were enchanting, each 24-hour period seemingly the same, but with the ever-changing scenery, were nothing at all alike. However, anyone accustomed to getting in 10,000 steps a day might reconsider this type of holiday, as I may have topped out at around 50 daily.

Sailing Croatia: Jaklijan to Mljet

Mljet was an island we had wanted to visit again as it seemed like such a well-kept secret back in 2015. Mljet is unique in that it is a mountainous Croatian national park and is home to many large beautiful lakes. Once on shore, you can rent bicycles and take your time winding up and down the rolling hills towards the lakes before a well-deserved swim.

A good way to make up for the lack of steps! When we pulled into the cove, we couldn’t help but notice the number of superyachts, sailboats, and catamarans that were already there. I guess the secret of Mljet is officially out, but it didn’t detract from the gorgeous and lush scenery Mljet had to offer.

The different shades of the Adriatic Sea were hypnotic, and you’d often see schools of glittery fish create a tornado of activity as you peered over the edge of the boat, facilitated a little by the bits of crusty leftover bread the kids would throw over the edge. By 6pm, the ripples on the water were highlighted by the descending sun and looked like a million twinkling stars dancing on the surface of the sea. Color and light, the main actors in the drama of the holiday, are never the same from one day to the next.

After a full afternoon of paddle boarding, water-skiing, and diving off the boat, the sun began to edge out the clouds, creating deep intense oranges and then rich purples that saturated the sky. It created a dramatic silhouette against the mountainous backdrop. Worthy of a cocktail moment, the crew was very happy to mix up some gin and tonics to toast the fading sun and its magical light.

Island hopping Through Croatia

On our way to the island of Scedero the next morning, we sat on the sun loungers at the front of the boat and caught sight of skillful kite surfers who were chasing the wind along the Croatian mainland in the distance. Scedero is a tiny island, even by Croatian standards, with only two bays in which to anchor, and as of 1999 has had only one inhabitant. There was a small beach shack/restaurant and little local kids, some half-naked, frolicking in the water. An old-fashioned feeling of bygone days pervaded the scene.

We took the kayak to the beachfront and in only ten minutes hiked up and over to the other side of the island where the sea was vast and uninterrupted by other islands. A single boat with its crisp white sail was keeling in the distance — the tranquility was palpable, the only sound being a lone frigate bird squawking nearby. The strong scent of wild rosemary accompanied me on the walk, all the more noticeable because life at sea generally seems to lack smell altogether.

Discovering Colma

One especially exciting part of boat life is suddenly catching a glimpse of a well-hidden cove, the only signs of occupancy being the tops of the tall sailboat masts hovering above the tree line. It made me feel like an explorer on a mission. We motored towards the island of Hvar, and hugged the fertile coastline with its rows of terraced vineyards, which then changed to stretches of the sheer rock face, and severely windblown trees that appeared to live forever horizontally. The landscape was broken only by the occasional lighthouse. Our destination was a tiny cove called Luka Vela Garska.

Luka Vela Garska was a quiet cove on the island of Hvar, and just a ten-minute dinghy ride to lively Hvar Town. The true highlight of Luka Vela Garska was the intimate beach restaurant, Colma. Only accessible by boats, we either swam, kayaked, or paddle-boarded to spend a few sunset hours with cocktails in hand, no shoes necessary!

Colma was so irresistibly simple—thatched beach umbrellas with wooden platform loungers that jut out over the rocky edge and hover above the water. Music was a mix of Depeche Mode, The Cure, and Prince — it was as if they knew we were coming. The vibe was low-key beach chic. The kids swam and ordered banana shakes while the grown-ups indulged with Aperol Spritzes and Coronas. It was a perfect way to both relax and gear up for the night ahead.

Sailing to Hvar Town: Peaceful by day, party by night

Hvar Town is a place that gains energy as the sun subsides. The tourists and families start to disappear and the nightclubs and bars slowly dominate the island. If you want to explore the narrow and wonderfully steep side streets of the town, it is worthwhile getting there early and meandering before the change takes over.

Restaurants abound, and outdoor tables practically fill up the entire width of the cobblestone passageways. It is still charming then, and up until about sunset, the light plays off the large church in the main square and bounces off the limestone facades that surround you. But be warned, soon it will become a free for all—bachelor parties roaming the streets and club promoters passing out leaflets for Hvar’s ‘premiere’ clubs. South Beach, meet Hvar.

We did end up leaving the kids behind with our parents that night and spent a few hours in and out of the bars, eventually ending up at a beach bar called Hula Hula. Earlier that day, a famous pop singer named Oliver Dragojevic, a national treasure, we were told, had passed away. Thousands of red flares went up throughout the harbor and along the coast in his honor. Croatians were singing his songs and dancing in inebriated groups, arms linked in memory of their cherished singer.

We were swept up in a wave of national pride. At 10pm sharp, the beach bar, throbbing with a DJ and 500 or more people, suddenly shut down, as it was being entirely reserved for the staff to have their own tribute party. We somehow evaded the mandatory evacuation and danced with the bartenders and waitresses past midnight, doing our best to sing along to the tunes of their beloved Oliver.

Sailing To Stunning Korcula

One of the few islands we revisited from our first sailing trip in 2015 was the enchanted island of Korcula. It was in Korcula that we spent our one and only marina night, versus moored or anchored in a bay. This gave us the opportunity to come and go from the boat and explore the island at our leisure.

The layout of Korcula Town resembles that of a fish bone. One central street divides the town and then dozens of narrow passages protrude from the center. Korcula has definitely become a hot tourist spot, and it shows in the unfortunate number of Game of Thrones references, tacky souvenir shops, and non-descript boutiques. However, it is still worth a visit, as it is just such a stunning place, and the golden light at sunset seems to set the entire town aglow.

The long promenade along the outer perimeter of the island is dotted with dozens of pretty little restaurants and open-air cafes, each with waterside tables boasting gorgeous views of the Adriatic Sea. The promenade curves along the water towards a large stone turret, where you can climb to the top along a small ladder and enjoy sunset drinks from above.

Unfortunately for us, no kids were allowed, so we sat waterside and ordered mojitos and smoothies before heading back to the boat for dinner. At one point while wandering through the back streets, I caught sight of an elderly Croatian woman high above the thrall, hanging her laundry, oblivious to the chaos below. It was a sweet reminder that there is still real life going on in this seemingly storybook village.

Life between the sea and the sky

During breakfast that last morning, we motored past hillsides of vineyards that resembled a patchwork quilt of bright yellows and luscious greens, with clusters of red rooftops set up into the hills, breaking through the landscape like a spark. It was this carefree lifestyle that had me hooked and will likely have me coming back. As with any great holiday, the first few days seemed to linger slowly and leisurely, allowing us to settle into vacation mode. But then annoyingly, they started to gain momentum, and I found myself wondering how it was almost over.

We sailed into the sun, having decided to spend our final night back in the cove of Jakljan, where we stayed our first night—ending the journey as we began. At this time of day, the colors of the scenery played tricks on our minds. Looking in the direction the sun was facing, all the edges of the islands and mountains were sharply defined, the colors vivid and intense. Turning around, it was quite the opposite, the overlapping islands blurred together in various shades of blues and grays, no definition whatsoever, a wash of pastels, the Adriatic a subtle shade different than the islands and sky.

Only the mast of a lone white passing catamaran broke the line of the horizon. It was surreal. As if to remind us that no two nights are alike. At sunset, the sky darkened to nearly black, then opened up with a downpour of biblical proportions. I was sure it was sabotage, as I had my heart set on taking some posed family pics. We huddled under the dining canvas for 30 minutes, assuming that this was our fate for the night, but then the rain stopped and another sky appeared in dramatic and tranquil light. Pictures ensued, much to my husband’s dismay.

Color most certainly defines Croatia—blues, greens, whites, and naturals. But perhaps gold is the most critical color in the palette, it being the catalyst for the change in all of the other colors. The golden light is what creates the variables in the blues, the nuances in the limestone, and the richness of the greens. The light is then what creates the thousands of other unnamed, undefinable colors that you don’t even realize you are seeing.

We spent a week adrift along the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia. I said I’d never take the same trip twice, and I was happy to prove myself wrong. Or maybe three’s a charm, as we are already booked for summer 2021.

Captain Tom, here we come. Again.

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Find it:

If you are interested in chartering the Kadena, please contact me via the ‘Contact and Subscribe’ link at the top of the page.
I will be more than thrilled to e-introduce you to Captain Tom in order to make direct booking arrangements.

If you have the time to tack on a few days in Dubrovnik, Villa Dubrovnik is a lovely hotel that sits on the edge of the sea.
Curious about an itinerary that starts in Split and ends in Dubrovnik? Read exactly why we booked ourselves back on the Kadena a few years later.

October 4, 2018
Snow-capped Summer in Chamonix, France

Face to Face with Mont Blanc, Chamonix, France /

You don’t have to be an intrepid mountaineer to get up close and personal with majestic Mont Blanc in Chamonix. You can do as we did, which was to take the first cable car up and be gratified instantly. We stood on the chilly observation deck, gawking at the looming mountain, not believing it could be so cold up here, while at the base the July temps were soaring into the high 70s.

Suddenly, what could have been a scene from Into Thin Air played out before us. A group of four climbers, wearing full climbing gear, complete with ice axes and crampons, quite literally threw a line over the observation deck and hoisted themselves onto the tourist-filled platform. Here we were, dressed in flip flops and t-shirts, a sharp contrast to the mountaineers’ Arctic attire. They had just summited Mont Blanc, the highest mountain of the Alps at 15,781ft, and were headed down.

They spent a few minutes basking in the bright sun, accepting kudos from the crowd, contemplating what they had achieved, and taking obligatory selfies, before riding the gondola down with the rest of us mere mortals.

L’Aiguille du Midi

L’Aiguille du Midi cable car links the idyllic town of Chamonix to Aiguille. In looking back at that day, I would have been better off not knowing I was about to step onto one of the highest cable cars in the world. I’m not afraid of heights, and have been on my fair share of cable cars in the past, but something about a system originally built in the 1920s (albeit modernized many times over the following century) would have felt unsettling. Fortunately, I overcame my fear, otherwise I would have missed the remarkable panorama of Mont Blanc and the Alps.

Above the clouds

Mont Blanc towers gloriously and steadfast above the charming ski town of Chamonix, which sits on the southeastern edge of France. Spanning the French-Italian border, it is forever capped in snow, and draws many fearless climbers and hikers each year. And while we had hiking plans during our stay there, Mont Blanc is in a league of its own, the highest mountain in the Alps, where crampons, ropes, and deep reserves of stamina are critical gear.

Ski towns in the summer always seem to have a special feeling about them, the greens richer due to the winter run-off, the blues deeper against the pine-filled mountains. I have spent many green summers in Vermont which has an equally beautiful vibe. However, Chamonix has an almost magical aura to it, crowded with adventure seekers, off-season ski bums and tourists alike. Paragliders seemingly so close to the mountains that they could comfortably throw a snowball.

Charming Chamonix

Chamonix is unique in that you feel that you are tucked secretly away at the base of the sloping mountains, the Alps soaring high above you in every direction. It is incredibly dramatic, the razor sharp evergreen pines look like soldiers standing in rows at attention with military precision. Patches of the pine give way to different layers of trees, scrub and rock and then eventually snow caps, like icing on a cake. The glaciers are iridescent, often looking icy blue or even purple depending upon the light. But always moving, so we were told, at a surprising rate of 1000ft per year.

Hôtel Hameau Albert 1er

Perhaps one of the best parts of visiting Chamonix in the summer months is that all the colors of the flowers and greenery are brilliantly juxtaposed against the blue skies and white alpine mountain tops. A botanical rainbow of sorts. Tiger lilies were in season, and the orange and black-speckled wildflowers created another layer of colorful drama in an already dramatic setting.

That said, flowers of every color and variety were on full polychromatic display at our hotel, which was just outside of the village center. The Hôtel Hameau Albert 1er is a Relais & Chateaux chalet-like lodge with its gaze firmly set upon Mont Blanc. Cozy, wooden, rustic rooms, many with balconies or patios that displayed window boxes overflowing with ivy and climbing red geraniums.

The swimming pool is indoor/outdoor in a unique way. A vaulted ceiling and panels of glass and wood allow the sun to stream inside, and when outside, those glass panels become reflective. So, even if your lounge chair isn’t facing the mountains, you can see them in all of their splendor.

Between the glaciers

Our first hike, with the help of a cable car, started at an elevation of 4400ft and climbed virtually straight up to 8500ft. Daniel predicted it would take us about three hours. Fifteen minutes into the ascent, I was sure I was doomed. But then I settled into a comfortable pace and started to admire the surroundings, which took my mind off the challenge ahead. The terrain changed from pine, with brown needles that carpeted the ground, to hot pink wild azaleas and scrub, then further along we snaked high above the tree line where the flowers struggled to survive. Daniel, whether as a motivator to keep me moving, or not to hear any complaints, kept a solid ten yard distance between us. Smart man.

We scrambled over rocks and boulders, passing along a knife-edge ridge between two ominous glaciers, Bossons and Taconnaz, their menacing crevasses distinctly visible. We could hear deafening waterfalls as we turned one corner, then noticed the sound magically disappear as we rounded the next. It was mystifying how the mountains so abruptly absorbed the acoustics. We surprised some wildlife along the way, a lonely ibex leapt across our path, then later a fearless marmot followed us nearer to the summit.

Just before the three hour mark, we came upon a solo Austrian hiker on his way down. Daniel had thought we still had at least 30 minutes or so to summit, and the clouds were closing in, but the Austrian told us we were a mere ten minutes from the top, as we were just about to pass the famous sheltered boulders, Gîte à Balmat, where the first summiters of Mont Blanc spent their first night in 1786. Daniel was elated, we were ahead of the game, and maybe ahead of the weather.

As per the norm with our hikes, we were without a clear view when we reached La Jonction at 8500ft. We had been relatively lucky on the way up, and, thankfully, I capitalized on the views then, sometimes disguising rest stops as photo ops.

Summit sans view

We sat proudly at the summit, despite the clouds and impending rain, our ham sandwiches, chips and bottles of Coke tasted like the best lunch we’d ever had. As we were finishing up, it started to drizzle, and we zipped up to start the scramble down, a little more challenging due to the slippery rocks. The weather presented a unique sequence for us that day: thunder, rain, sun, hail, repeat.

The fog and clouds first obscured our views and then dramatically gave way to sunny patches that looked like a flashlight spotlighting Chamonix village far below. It was a spectacular day overall, and we felt we earned our upcoming two-star Michelin dinner that night at the hotel.

Albert 1er Restaurant

The spare, elegant, wood-paneled, and white table-clothed dining room of Albert 1er Restaurant effortlessly allows the cuisine to take center stage. Not that it wouldn’t if in the most ornate of settings, as the plates are so artfully designed and visually enticing. The flavors blend together harmoniously, as they are partially sourced from the herb and kitchen gardens on the property. The fare is traditional French, using traditional French ingredients, but presented in an entirely non-traditional way.

The written menu cleverly defies what you see on your plate when it arrives. The leeks, calf’s foot, egg yolk and Ossetra caviar dish, for example, looks completely different than what you would have perceived in your mind. Modern, artful, and skillfully designed. Chef Maillet succeeds in challenging every sense in just about every way.

A family affair

Chef Pierre Maillet’s culinary story is also a love story. Having worked for the original chef, Pierre Carrier, Maillet went on to marry Carrier’s daughter, Perrine. Together they have looked after the restaurant and preserved its two star status in the prestigious Michelin Guide. Perrine is visible nightly, greeting guests while gliding around the restaurant and glamorous Quartz Bar, which is complete with a lovely grand piano. You imagine that the French equivalent of Harry Connick Jr. could appear at any moment and start crooning.

Wine-ing and dining

Head sommelier, Marc-Henri Mialon seemed to be the lead player on the dining room floor with his subtle and mischievous sense of humor. We chose the set menu, paired with wine, which led with an intriguing Vin Mystère. At first glance, the mystery wine looked effervescent, like champagne. But that answer seemed too obvious. We spent some time thinking about it and incorrectly came up with a sparkling wine from Alsace. The correct answer? A sparkling Vouvray. Mialon luckily has much to choose from for his wine challenges, as the cellar at Albert 1er houses about 19,000 bottles.

It was a fun and lively way to start the evening, taking away any stuffiness you might associate with a restaurant of this status. I appreciated the lighthearted approach to the wine, which can be an intimidating part of any dining experience. As an aside, we discovered a week later, while at La Baumanière in Provence, that the sommelier there had worked not long ago with Marc-Henri Mialon while at Albert 1er. A small wine world, indeed!

The food and wine became more decadent with each course, from tomatoes, burrata and mackerel with kitchen garden herbs, to dace with pine bud honey, carrots, gingerbread and preserved lemon. Ten courses—an epicurean adventure—including a roving and overflowing cheese trolley. The final hurrah was a Crêpe Suzette made table-side, which actually wasn’t on the tasting menu, but that Daniel had his heart set on and we ordered anyway. Needless to say, we were happy we only had to walk about 100ft to our room. After the day’s colossal hike, and the night’s equally colossal dinner, we were officially ‘fini’.

World Cup France v. Belgium

Being in France during the World Cup frenzy was both a blessing and a curse. The village of Chamonix was pulsing with fans amped up for the matches. Finding a place that we could both enjoy a good meal as well as watch the soccer was a feat. After annoying my husband by walking aimlessly around town trying to find the ‘perfect’ spot, then vetoing a place he found with a large tv, (but no diners, bad sign!), we finally hit the jackpot. A bistro with one recently abandoned outdoor table that had pole position in front of the TV. We conspired to eat and drink as slowly as possible over the remainder of the 90 minute match as we couldn’t bear to give up our prime seats.

France won and Chamonix erupted. It was a fantastic night, made even better by the much needed low-key contrast to the previous evening’s meal. Chamonix has lovely narrow streets filled with hidden dive bars, bistros and shops, many of which are geared towards the outdoor adventure set. The slightly intoxicated bartender at the bar we had visited pre-dinner was so excited when France scored that he abandoned his post, and headed to a neighboring bar to celebrate with a fellow bartender. He reappeared 15 minutes later, more intoxicated, and sent around complimentary shots. A win for everyone!

Lac Blanc

Our second hike in Chamonix proved less lucky than the first weather-wise (not that our first was ideal, mind you) as we set out in clouds and spent the majority of the day in them as well. Yet, the Alps look breathtaking no matter what the weather, and being above the clouds created an alternate yet equally devastatingly scenic view. We were on our way to a reflective lake called Lac Blanc, known to be the most celebrated walk the Chamonix Valley.

Accessible by La Flégère cable car in Les Praz, the hike was shorter and less strenuous than La Jonction thankfully, but had more snow with which to contend. We inched across a few steep, icy passages, now wishing that we had our own crampons and ice axe. The lake was beautiful and serene, and while both Daniel and I had hoped the sun would make an appearance, even for just a few minutes, it refused. So we spent the remainder of the rainy day in the spa and indoor pool at the Hameau Albert, which felt well-deserved after our morning of hiking.

Final views

Three days in Chamonix was just not enough, as I would have loved a few more hikes and maybe a bit more sun. We were due to leave early the next morning, but when we woke up, the shining sun was too good to pass on, so we delayed our departure for one last ride on La Flégère to catch the views that had eluded us the day before.

That morning, I stepped onto the platform of the cable car without fear, and with utter happiness that I was one of the ones wearing flip flops rather than hiking boots this time. We spent a few quiet minutes taking in the awesome panorama of the Alps, then hopped back onto the cable car. Next stop, Provence.

Find it:

Hôtel Hameau Albert 1er: https://www.hameaualbert.fr/en
Albert 1er Restaurant: https://www.hameaualbert.fr/en/gastronomic-restaurant
L’Aiguille du Midi: https://www.chamonix.com/aiguille-du-midi-step-into-the-void,80,en.html
Hiking Routes in Chamonix: https://10hikes.com/france/chamonix-hikes/

September 9, 2018
Dunton Hot Springs, A Home away from Home
Dunton Hot Springs is a remote getaway filled with wildlife and hiking adventures, farm-to-table meals, and a western vibe that had us dreaming of simpler times. Dunton Hot Springs—a little escape from reality in the cool, breezy San Juan mountains of Colorado.

Remote, restorative, and secluded, are buzzwords that have always piqued my curiosity when reading about travel, but never as much as they do at this particular moment in time. I long for fresh air and wide-open spaces. I have a pressing need to immerse myself in Mother Nature, or in a cozy room with a blanket, and a heart-pumping page-turner. These travel longings have zoomed, no pun intended, to the top of my bucket list. I crave the creature comforts of home, but somewhere that is anywhere but my home.

Likely, I am not alone in these cravings, or in these wistful dreams of travel. I’d like to sink into a bed made of clouds, without having to make it in the morning. I’d like to feast upon a wholesome, home-cooked meal. Yet, I don’t want to go food shopping, Instacart, or clean dishes, afterward. I’d love to open windows onto a field of wildflowers and hear horses neighing in the distance, rather than the sirens that often pierce the silence of my neighborhood’s otherwise quiet streets.

Hello, Dunton!

Tucked away in the southwest corner of Colorado, along the west fork of the Dolores River, and at nearly 9,000 ft, sits Dunton Hot Springs. My family visited Dunton a few summers ago, and I have been wondering why this particular place, of all places, is calling me back. Maybe it’s because Dunton, quite naturally, delivers on that precise home away from home feeling I am currently craving.

The cluster of rustic log cabins at Dunton Hot Springs felt like a throwback to another era or the set of an old-time western film. A collection of fourteen mining town log cabins of various shapes and sizes dotted the expansive property, some of which had been gently relocated from other parts of Colorado. Its vast1500 acres, flanked by majestic mountains, cool waterfalls, and the serpentine Dolores River, together provided a natural playground for the multitude of activities Dunton offered.

The inherent beauty of Dunton Hot Springs was evident from every angle. Look left—sprawling fields of buttercups stood vibrant and golden against the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Look right—on-property trails led to an ice-cold gushing waterfall that was heard long before it was seen. The air was cleaner and clearer, and all of our senses were as elevated as the mountaintops we looked out upon.

Dining In, and Out

Our first meal was at a weather-beaten picnic table on the deck outside of the saloon, a welcome way to settle in after two flights, and a scenic two-hour drive. A row of hummingbird feeders along the porch swayed gently in the crisp breeze. We watched intently as these tiny, mighty, birds vied for space to feed—buzzing, whirling, and hovering, all at once. Every so often, a larger hummingbird would sharply dart towards a feeder, bumping a smaller one down the line. Bullying—acceptable behavior in the avian world.

It was an amusing sideshow to our hearty, multi-course lunch, an added touch of theater. The food, with a new, locally-sourced menu prepared daily, was to be a big part of our western adventure. We dined on local elk, and roasted vegetables from their farm—the first of many enticing meals we were to enjoy during our stay. Preparation took place in the open-plan kitchen, where guests were encouraged to watch and ask questions while the chef created the day’s feast.

In the evenings, we gathered at the original, old-fashioned bar in the saloon to meet up with the bartender, and critique his latest cocktail. Oversized picture books of architecture, photography, and nature, lay atop a low coffee table for us to peruse. The kids headed outside to climb on a rusted-out tractor-trailer, or play ring toss. A recently lit bonfire soared nearby, sheepskin throws waited on benches for cold shoulders to warm. The scene called for the gooey s’mores we were destined to devour later.

Later, we were seated at a long, communal, wooden farmhouse table, where we would relay the day’s events, or lack thereof, to the other guests. A wagon-wheel light fixture hovered overhead, lights flickering. While some guests told tales of fly fishing, or their hike through the spruce and aspen forests, others had been content to spend the day reading or soaking in the natural hot springs for which the resort is known.

RElaxing at every turn

Likely discovered by the Ute Native Americans, the soothing hot springs are a true focal point and highlight of the property. Resting somewhere between 85 and 106 degrees in temperature, part of the spring is enclosed within a 19th-century bathhouse. Steam rose ethereally towards the vaulted ceilings, and gently fogged the tall glass-framed wall. A low-slung hammock, high-end bath products, and plush towels seemed wholly designed to keep us in a never-ending state of deep relaxation.

The outdoor area of the spring had unobstructed views of the San Juan mountains. Since the bathhouse and springs can be used at any hour of the day, we were able to watch the sky turn from subtle shades of blue to inky black, over the course of the night. Stars blinked hello. It was so silent, I didn’t trust it.

Rooms with a View

The decor of the cabins at Dunton is classic Americana and had homespun touches like flannel blankets, and patterned rugs with hues of rich reds and federal blues. Vintage snowshoes might hang on the wall of one cabin, while framed vintage western movie posters may be on another.

The cabin named Dolores, for instance, boasted an original Rajsthan wedding bed, as well as a large, private viewing deck. The Dunton Store, one of the pet-friendly cabins, had its own private hot spring and a gas stove. Christy’s Tent prided itself on its magnificent view from the oversized shower. The cabins varied in size so that regardless of how many guests were in your group, you were likely to find a great fit.

The Potter House

Since we were traveling with another family to Dunton, we opted for the Potter House, which slept ten people, and was adjacent to a lively beaver pond. The Potter House has five bedrooms and 3.5 baths laid out over three levels, a large kitchen, wraparound decks with 360 views, and all the cozy comforts a log cabin could muster. The fireplace was a welcomed luxury as it took the edge off of the cool, dry June nights.

One morning, we opted out of any formal activities in favor of a ‘day to do nothing’ at our cabin. We called down to the saloon and asked if we could have some essential items brought up to accompany the ‘nothing’ we were planning to accomplish. Within 30 minutes, we had two bottles of rosé, four glasses, and enough chocolate and salty snacks to keep us in place for the afternoon.

As we relaxed into our day, the kids went rogue. They climbed into an old tractor overrun with dandelions near the stables. They played corn hole and volleyball. They ran, they biked, stirred up the hot springs, and swayed in the hammock. It was a detox from our electronically-controlled lives. The old-fashioned setting suited us in a way we could never have imagined.

Do everything or do nothing at all

As tempting as it was to have another day of ‘nothing’, we managed to get out and experience the nature we traveled so far enjoy. We ambled up into the mountains, traversed streams, watched for bears, and eventually stomped through lingering mushy, melting, mountaintop snow. Horseback riding, mountain biking, and rock climbing were available to those of us who wanted a bigger rush of adrenaline. I was happiest in the hot springs, or on the deck, where I watched a mama bird source food for her babies that lived in a nest under the eaves of Potter House. Nature was the main event, and it fed into every moment, big and small.

A Place for all Seasons

It wasn’t very surprising to recently discover that Dunton Hot Springs made Conde Nast’s coveted Gold List this year. A well-deserved accolade for a former sleepy mining town, far removed from civilization, nestled high in the San Juan mountains.

Although we visited Dunton Hot Springs in the summer, it is the kind of place that I imagine offers up a completely unique experience with each season. The landscape lends itself to endless activities and ways to relax. While we usually don’t find ourselves repeating the same trip twice, just this once, I could be tempted. The wide-open spaces are calling.

I think back to that summer at Dunton and the memory snapshots that made it so unforgettable. I can’t help but come back to the buzzwords that drew me there in the first place; remote, restorative, secluded. And the refrain that continues to echo in my mind—a home away from home.

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Five reasons to get lost:
- Coming upon a herd of ‘wild cows’ during our river camp hike.
- Discovering the cocktail of the night at the saloon each evening.
- Watching a hawk, having just caught a snake in its beak, fly gracefully overhead.
- Nightly fire pit complete with all the makings for s’mores.
- Feel like you are living in a ghost town for a few days and being completely unplugged.
June 14, 2017

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