I am Lost and Found

Tag: Walking

The Best Of Mérida: Mexico’s Newest Hot Spot

“Where’s Mérida?” you wonder, and “Why should I go there?” I’m happy you asked. Mérida, Mexico, is the capital city of the Yucatán State. It’s simple luxuries fly under the radar in terms of typical Mexican tourist destinations—more rustic, fewer bells, fewer whistles, and friendlier on the wallet. Long may that last. Recently, I spent three days uncovering the best of Mérida, Mexico, old school style with a pen and paper. Three days exploring boutiques, boutique hotels, hidden watering holes, and airy rooftop bars.

Was it enough? Not by a hot Mexican mile.

My iPhone lights up. ‘Mérida is 🔥’ It’s Amy, one of my oldest and closest friends. Is she reporting the weather or preparing me for the fabulousness of Mérida? As of two weeks ago, I couldn’t have found Mérida, or the Yucatán, on a map if you gave me a million pesos.

Yet here I am, booking flights on one computer tab and mapping it out on another. This isn’t me; I don’t fly by the seat of my pants. I get to the airport at least two hours before my scheduled departure time and book restaurants a month out. I prepare for Christmas in August. Planning is my thing.

Until it isn’t.

Why Mérida, Mexico?

Amy and her husband decide to live in Mérida, Mexico, for a month, testing a work-from-anywhere model they hope to repeat if successful. Mérida is the capital of the Yucatán State and is quickly becoming one of the most sought-after destinations in Mexico.

They offer their extra bedroom and plunge pool as an incentive to visit. Amy says she’s already scouted out the best of Mérida, Mexico—no need to research. I’m sold on the plunge pool.

The Best of Mérida, Yucatán, Mexico

Despite the gaping holes in my knowledge about the location, the language, and nearly everything about Mérida, I can’t wait to get there. My daughter, Ella, seems happy, too. But it’s hard to tell, as her happy face, annoyed face, and indifferent face look so much alike. As ever, I’m optimistic.

Mérida, here we come!

My ‘Best of Mérida’ shortlist follows, fueled by Amy’s insider knowledge and advanced planning. You’d be surprised by what you can experience in three days unless you know Amy. Then you wouldn’t be surprised at all. If I’m a travel planner, Amy’s the Marie Kondo of travel planning. She had our life-changing, magical Mérida itinerary tidied up before I could say muchas gracias.

When our plane touches down, I know one thing for sure. Amy’s right, Mérida is hot.

Mi casa es su casa, in Mérida

We grab a taxi and head out. Crumbling concrete casas begging to be brought back to life reside next to those lovingly restored. Some with fresh coats of pastel-colored paint, flickering colonial-era lanterns, and glossy wooden doors. They’ve been returned to their original glory. This juxtaposition of old and new is what makes Mérida especially captivating.

Time has taken its toll on the buildings’ bones, not their souls. I imagine the conquistadors of centuries past roaming these very streets. Its history is palpable. Each turned corner reveals a new palette of watery rainbow-washed colors, glimpses of hidden courtyards, taquerias, and colorful plazas.

The city streets are laid out in a series of perfect right angles. A topographical chessboard of sorts. This layout makes the city accessible to even the most geographically stunted (myself included).

Their Airbnb is on the edge of the historic old town and has a seafoam green facade with bright white trim and a cerulean blue door. A light breeze takes the edge off the midday heat, and I hear a woman’s voice singing scales from above. Her undulating notes escape a top-floor window like liberated butterflies.

I quickly discover that music, in one form or another, is woven into the city’s DNA. I’ve only been here 18 minutes, but I know I will love it. 72 hours. The clock is ticking.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Hotels

I research hotels anyway, for fun. Yes, I think that’s fun. One day, when I bring my husband here, I’ll know exactly where to stay. The planner in me makes a fleeting appearance. A Google search combined with a chance to wander the city in real-time provides a shortlist of possibilities for my next trip to Mérida. Or possibly yours.

Coqui Coqui Residences

The five Yucatán-based residences of eternally boutique-chic Coqui Coqui Residences & Spa balance old-world charm with modern amenities. I fantasize about hopping from one swoon-worthy locale to the next.

Each residence is part chic hotel and part perfumery, with a spritz of tropical glamour. The Mérida location, built in 1903, is an ivory townhouse on a quiet street. It has only one room! I’m dying to see it!

The saleswoman says it’s occupied. That it’s always occupied, she notes my disappointment yet says the room has not one but two freestanding bathtubs. The epitome of Belle Epoque style, it also has a private rooftop pool and is accessed via a staircase, so elegant that Architectural Digest could devote an entire spread to it.

I drown my sorrows by devouring several of Coqui Coqui’s decadent chocolates and testing their perfumes. It’s tough to choose a favorite among the Yucatán-inspired fragrances. Should my new signature scent lean towards earthy tobacco or Hawaiian Tropic circa 1985? I choose coconut. This should be the toughest decision I make all day.

Coqui Coqui’s richly textured ochre-colored walls and black and white marble floors are devastatingly photogenic. Crystal chandeliers drip from double-height ceilings. Velvet poofs, curtains, and gilded, golden-framed mirrors convey an ultra-chic opulence. I slowly meander around this aromatic sanctuary, taking it all in.

Rosas y Xocolate

Rosas y Xocolate is a duo of the pinkest pink French mansions transformed into a boutique hotel that receives accolades for its style and service, not to mention an award-winning restaurant.

I step inside to oooh, ahhhh, and recalibrate my body temperature. Did I mention Merida is hot? The tranquil entry is a respite from the buzzy, pedestrian-filled Paseo de Montejo. I continue to meander, which is starting to wear on Ella. She is not a meanderer. Is that her annoyed face or hangry face? I look the other way.

The interior is dark and moody, a break from the dizzying bright blue skies outside. It’s like walking into a warm chocolate cookie. Or, maybe I’m hungry, too. I notice a wall of wine, oversized modern art displayed on a nearby easel, and a sunny outdoor patio for drinks. Rosas y Xocolate has my essentials covered.

Each of the 17 rooms is unique, featuring handmade chocolate soaps. Now that’s a hotel product I’d love to steal, I mean buy. Splashes of the hotel’s signature shade of rose abound, whether as an accent wall, a throw pillow, or actual blossoms. Bravo, Rosas y Xocolate.

Hotel Sevilla

Located in the oldest part of historic Mérida, just one block from the main square, sits Hotel Sevilla. A restored 19th-century hotel, old and new come together in this magical, spacious, hidden jewel with gardens, sun-drenched patios, and beautiful rooms. This compact boutique hotel oozes Colonial charm, adding a touch of industrial drama to its coveted city location.

Get My Free Mérida Hot Sheet—Just Click!

Hotel Cigno

A 19th-century mansion turned boutique hotel, this seven-room property on the outskirts of town has a delicate combination of traditional glamour and modern flourishes. Its azul-painted facade is as welcoming as the cenotes themselves. Hotel Cigno offers excursions and dining experiences to make any gringo feel at home in Mérida. The rooms are reasonably priced, with a splash of old and new Mexican design and some with private plunge pools to escape the heat.

Check Hotel Cigno availability here

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Boutiques and Babkas

Amy and John have been in Mérida, Mexico, for three weeks when Ella and I arrive. This allows them to narrow down the shops and boutiques worth visiting during our limited time.

The following day, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at home. Amy presents an array of flaky croissants, including tiramisu, almond-topped, and knotted babkas from Soco, a local artisanal bakery. Soco’s plumped-up pastries could easily compete with boulangeries in Paris.

Its derelict hole-in-the-wall style belies the doughy gems inside. I visit three times in as many days, pretending that Mexican calories don’t count. Or rather, French-inspired, Mexican-made calories don’t count. You get the idea.

PC: Ella Edwards

Caracol Púrapura, Mérida

Mexican folk art, handmade jewelry, and ceramics are just a few of the treasures to be unearthed at the intersection of Calles 60 and 53. Caracol Púrapura feels more like a museum than a series of local boutiques. Larger-than-life sculptures fill the cavernous space.

Vessels turned from Oaxacan black clay and Huichol beaded bracelets made by Wixárica artisans are displayed alongside paintings, handbags, and intricately designed pottery. These handicrafts preserve the traditions of Mexico while simultaneously supporting the local artists.

Taller Maya, Mérida

After more meandering, I pronounce Taller Maya as my favorite boutique. Taller Maya could live as comfortably on Spring Street in Soho as in Mérida. The clean, spare, brightly lit space has unusually high ceilings and an overall breezy feel. I stroll around the store several times, seeing something new and beautiful with each lap.

Solid marble pedestal bowls, modern wooden furniture, luminous lamps, and hand-woven hammocks only begin to describe the highly curated wares at Taller Maya. I covet it all, down to the handwoven tortilla warmers. A study in neutrals and as welcoming as a Tribeca loft. I would have moved in immediately had they offered.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Sights

Mérida feels real. Perhaps this is the most luxurious thing about it. When so many places in Mexico are tourist-focused to the point of being inauthentic, Mérida nails it without effort. Oh, and it’s incredibly affordable, at least for now.

First time in Mérida? Click here for an entertaining self-guided walking tour and discover the best of the city!

Plaza Grande, Mérida

We explore the city from the main square, Plaza Grande. Its prismatic energy echoes the vibrant buildings and lush grassy knolls. It’s also the home to the magnificent Cathédral of Mérida.

Constructed from Mayan ruins, the Cathédral of Mérida, aka San Ildefonso Cathédral, sits on the east side of Plaza Grande. It’s an imposing 16th-century backdrop to the lively promenades, street vendors, and historical buildings.

But, as far as I’m concerned, the multicolored city sign at Plaza Grande is the end-all-be-all tourist attraction. It is the best tourist trap/photo op in Mérida, without question. Even Ella liked it.

‘Welcome to Mérida!’, it shouts, in all colors of the rainbow, ‘We’re so happy you’re here!’. I stopped to take a photograph just as a real-life rainbow appeared behind it. I kid you not. Photo evidence above.

Paseo Montejo, Mérida

On Sundays, the Paseo Montejo, Mérida’s wide, tree-lined street, is closed to pedestrians and cyclists only. Locals and tourists stroll the pavement, listen to music, dance, walk dogs, and brunch on verandas. Inspired by the Champs-Élysées and dotted with palatial Beaux-Arts homes, it’s a way to harness the city’s energy while burning off babka-sized calories.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Cuisine

Local Mayan, Caribbean, Spanish, North African, and Middle Eastern cultures influence Yucatán cuisine. No wonder food is the center of Mérida’s universe.

That we drink and eat our way through the city is an understatement. Ella sums it up well: ‘We didn’t just go for drinks before dinner, we went for drinks at four different places, and then tacos, before dinner.’ Amy and John know how to live. My people.

Panuchos Yucatecan became my favorite Mexican food despite having never heard of it before. Panuchos are two lightly fried corn tortillas with a thin layer of refried black beans between them. They are topped with chicken, pickled onion, and sliced avocado. Indescribably amazing.

I vow only to eat them in Mexico, fearing they can’t be re-created elsewhere. I grab my pen and add it to my list: ‘Best of Mérida: panuchos.’

Interested in a walking Food Tour of Mérida? Click here to learn more!

El Marlín Azul, Mérida

With humble beginnings as a food truck in Merida’s industrial zone, El Marlin Azul is now considered one of the best places to eat in the city. I can speak with culinary confidence about the shrimp ceviche. Amy and John had bought some from the store the morning we arrived—our first foray into Yucatán cuisine. I make another vow, and add another entry: ‘Best of Merida: ceviche at El Marlín Azul’.

Restaurant Micaela, Mérida

Restaurant Micaela’s website claims its food is a tribute to Nana’s cooking, but the vibe is anything but grandmotherly. Micaela’s is a hidden gem in the old town, featuring vivid mural-painted walls, terra cotta tiles, and soft amber lighting. The hustle of its open kitchen further enhances the buzziness. Micaela’s is the kind of place to eat, drink, and linger, which is easy to do when the food is this good.

We order various appetizers for the table, including Crudo de atún (fresh tuna) and Rellenos de queso Oaxaca, followed by steak, short ribs, and other carnivorous entrées. Micaela’s Nana also notes that cooking is her love language. I hear you, Nana—loud and clear.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Cocktails and Tacos

Terraza Picheta is said to have the only terrace overlooking the old city of Mérida, Mexico. When we enter the expansive patio just before sunset, it’s clear they’ve won the Mérida lottery for location.

The views are panoramic and dominated by the cathedral in the east. Our rainbow remains a non-stop photo op until I turn around to re-focus my camera on the setting sun.

One round of drinks and a few appetizers are consumed until the sun is gone. Time for dinner—I think.

Not quite. First, we stop for another cocktail and pre-dinner taco at El Lucero, where I fall in love with the never-before-heard-of panucho. Lanterns hang at varying heights from an enormous vaulted and thatched roof. Palm trees line the stone walls. Marc Anthony’s smoky tenor fills the room.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Cocktails, Tacos, and Jenga

Patio Petanca is the complete opposite of Terraza Picheta. Low-key and hidden to Picheta’s upscale and wide-open. But it still makes the list. Petanca’s graffiti-covered metal door opens up to a game lover’s dream—an outdoor space with two boules courts and piles of games to keep one’s mind sharp throughout happy hour.

In Merida, boules is known as petanque, and the sandy game area takes up nearly all of Patio Petanca’s modest space. Amy and John order mezcal. I have a beer. No, Mom, no one has taken over my blog, I mean, website. I drink beer. But only in Mexico.

A fierce game of Mexican Jenga begins, and Ella eventually topples the tower. Before she can complain, a sudden rainstorm has us fleeing for cover under the thatched bar. There we find, really and truly, the world’s best taco.

If you don’t believe me, Amy, John, and Ella agree. This is the world’s best taco. Petanca has brought in a guest chef from nearby Pico de Gallo, much like Miami’s LIV would bring in DJ Steve Aoki. Well, not exactly the same way.

We want more tacos, but are dangerously late for dinner, which shouldn’t matter as none of us are hungry anymore. I open my notebook: ‘Best of Merida: tacos at Patio Petanca with guest chef from Pico de Gallo.’ My list is growing longer by the minute.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Live Music

Live music abounds in Mérida. You only need to walk down the street and follow your ears. Jazz and Blues lovers won’t want to miss a night at Dzalbay Cantina. Pick a night, any night. Because at Dzalbay, there’s never a night without live music. And with its well-tended bar of 30 beers and delectable cocktails, one night won’t be enough.

Best of Mérida, Mexico: Daytrippin’

You don’t have to be super adventurous, a good swimmer, or even like water to enjoy the cenotes of the Yucatán. Trust me. Cenotes result from centuries-old, collapsing limestone bedrock that forms underground pools. The Yucatán peninsula has over 7,000 cenotes, some of which are thought to have been created by asteroids.

Swimming (or, in my case, wading) in freshwater cenotes is an otherworldly experience. Ancient Mayans believed that cenotes were sacred passages to the underworld. I believe they are a refreshing, ethereal escape from the Mexican sun. Undeniably, they are natural stunners and worth the trip out of town.

Santa Barbara Cenotes, Mérida

We visit the Santa Barbara cenotes on a quiet Monday morning, leaving the house at 9am to beat the crowds. Our driver knows exactly where to go, which is reassuring as the directions on the pamphlet have some cenotes-sized holes. ‘Located entrance of Homún. Take the first turning to the right and following road next to police station’. (sic) Hmmm.

The inexpensive entrance fee covers the bikes and life jackets. Despite my poor aquatic skills, I refuse to wear the life jacket. I get reprimanded three times, one in each of the cenotes. Cascabel, Chacsikín, and Xooch are within a mile of one another—each is more beautiful than the next.

Skip the lines! Click here to get tickets for Merida’s famous cenotes!

At Cascabel, we descend a precarious set of wooden steps toward a secret pool of water. Drippy cave sounds plink and plonk, and well-placed underwater lighting makes the setting even more surreal. There are a few other visitors, but not many. Amy and Ella swim the loop in the cave. I don’t. We hop back on our bikes and head to the other cenotes.

The entrance to the Xooch’ cenote is through a moss-covered arch at the bottom of a steep stone stairway. It theatrically opens to a freshwater pool with a wide-open Simpson-blue sky lighting it from above.

Trees hover precipitously on the crater’s edge, their long roots dangling toward the water’s surface. It feels very Jurassic Park circa 1993, and I half expect to see a pterodactyl swoop overhead. Instead, we see equally prehistoric-looking iguanas.

We float and enjoy the sounds of nature. For a full fifteen minutes, we have Xooch completely to ourselves. Well, almost. One particularly angry iguana gives me the side-eye from his perch on the cave wall. Gringos, he must be thinking in his pea-sized brain, vámanos!

Mayapan Ruins, Mérida

Chichen Itza Ruins are one of Mexico’s most famous Mayan sites, and for good reason. However, some lesser-known sites are equally enticing for those who want ruins for themselves. Mayapan is one of those places, and with a $2.40 entrance fee, there is very little reason not to go. Intrepid guests are free to climb the ancient ruins at their own risk, naturally.

Mayapan is 25 miles from Mérida, in a pueblo called Tecoh. It’s said that Mayapan may have been the last Mayan city to be built and inhabited. The central pyramid is named the Castle of Kukulcan, and I climb its crumbling steps easily, proud of my speed and fearlessness.

Upon reaching the top, panic replaces pride, and my knees buckle. My husband’s voice echoes in my head, ‘Going up is optional. Coming down is mandatory.’ I hate it when he says that. It takes me three times as long to return to Earth. It isn’t pretty, speedy, or fearless. Humbled and sweaty, we head back to Mérida.

Celestún Beach

The sleepy fishing village of Celestún is about an hour or so west of Mérida. With its pristine white sandy beaches lined with coconut trees, you might think that’s plenty of motivation to attract visitors. But this sprawling natural wetland has much more to offer. In addition to being home to over 400 migratory birds, the most famous of which are the stunning pink flamingos, it also has a hidden gem—Baldiosera spring.

Baldiosera Spring is a hidden gem in the Yucatan, reminiscent of a cenote nestled amidst the mangroves. Visitors can access this idyllic spot via boat along the river’s estuaries—a magical addition to any Mérida itinerary.

Click here for a tour of the Ria Celestún Biosphere Reserve to see the resident pink flamingos

Mérida is 🔥

The unassuming luxuries of the Yucatán and Mérida are found behind crumbling facades, upon makeshift stages, and within subterranean pools of water. At first glance, it appears to be an uncomplicated life. After three days of compiling my ‘Best of Mérida’ shortlist, I realize just how much Yucatán history there is here, below the surface, as deep as the cenotes themselves.

To add a little fuel to the fire, consider this. Three days in Mérida, Mexico, will cost less than one at a swanky hotel in Punta Mita. Is budget luxury a thing? It all depends on our definitions of luxury. I have room for both in my travels.

‘Why visit Mérida?’ Because it’s hot. It is in temperature for sure, but even more so as a destination to visit before the rest of the world finds it. Hopefully, this snapshot of one of Mexico’s most understated, richly colored cities sparks Marie Kondo-esque joy.

If not, there’s always Cancun.

Discover Mérida’s Hidden Gems with my E-Guide!
Click here!

First time in Mérida? Click here for an entertaining self-guided walking tour!

Interactive Mérida, Yucatán map with my hot spots

Map courtesy of Wanderlog, an itinerary planner on iOS and Android

Mérida FAQs

Where exactly is Mérida? Tucked into Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, Mérida is about 35 km from the Gulf and has its own international airport, Manuel Crescencio Rejón International. You can also fly into Cancún International Airport and drive three to four hours west, watching the jungle quietly take over the landscape.

When’s the best time to visit? November through March is Mérida’s sweet spot: balmy days, low humidity, and breezy nights that make you want to linger in a courtyard with a mezcal cocktail in hand. Summer brings the heat and humidity, and June through October is the rainy season—though storms here are more cameo appearances than all-day affairs.

Why does everyone love Mérida? Because it’s a city with soul. Colorful facades, Mayan roots, colonial charm, world-class food, and a pace that encourages you to slow down. Stroll Paseo de Montejo, dip into nearby cenotes, listen to live music in the plazas after dark, and you’ll get it.

Is Mérida expensive? Mérida is refreshingly gentle on the wallet. Boutique hotels and chic Airbnbs abound without requiring a trust fund. Tacos are divine and cheap, taxis are easy, and splurges, like tasting menus and rooftop cocktails, won’t leave you wincing when the bill comes.

What can’t I miss? A sunset walk down Paseo de Montejo • A dip in the cool turquoise waters of Cenote X’batun or Cenote San Ignacio • Sunday markets on the Plaza Grande (with churros that could change lives) • A history fix at the Gran Museo del Mundo Maya • A day trip to Uxmal or Chichén Itzá because standing beneath a 1,000-year-old pyramid never gets old.

Does working as a digital nomad based in Mexico (or anywhere else) appeal? Look no further than JOOBLE and start packing.

(Please note a few affiliate links above for which I may receive a small referral fee. But rest assured, I only highlight products I fully stand behind.)

March 21, 2025
Why off-season is the best season in Kennebunkport, Maine

Kennebunkport, Maine, is an ideal escape in the summer, as everyone knows. But a visit to the Kennebunks in the off-season is just as rewarding. Maybe even more so, as the crowds have left and a level of calm is restored to this coastal town. Kennebunkport, Maine, has something to please every kind of traveler. Read on to discover my favorite places.

Oftentimes, the best trips are the least planned, last-minute escapes. The ones that fall into your lap at just the right time. Instead of thinking, ‘I can’t.’, you think, ‘Why not?’.

When my college friend, Amy, invited me to visit her in Kennebunkport, where she’s lived for five years, I went full-speed ‘Why not?’. While I could only get away for a brief mid-week stint, I soon realized that even 36 hours in Kennebunkport could feel like a leisurely holiday when exploring new territory without an agenda. I needed some time on the beach, and Kennebunkport beaches are known to be spectacular.

The PERKS OF THE OFF-SEASON in Kennebunkport, Maine

April is considered off-season in Kennebunkport. But I could feel the low buzz of activity as the shops, restaurants, and hotels prepared for the onslaught of tourists soon descending upon the town. Some places I wanted to explore were still closed, which gave me ample ammunition to revisit.

The town was beautifully quiet, so I didn’t have to fight crowds as I walked and shopped or wasted time searching for parking. The beaches were undisturbed, and I had the shells all to myself.

The film The Truman Show kept popping into my head—for obvious reasons. Everything looked so strikingly utopian. I remain convinced that the ducks had on/off switches.

KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE: BEACHES RULE

Within hours of arriving, Amy and I drive directly to Gooch’s Beach. Kennebunk and Kennebunkport, Maine beaches are known worldwide, and it was easy to see why. The late afternoon sun highlighted the clapboard houses lined the serpentine beach drive.

The water was still, the tide low and glassy, and the beaches virtually empty. There was a brisk chill in the coastal air, and everything looked calm and peaceful—another allure of the off-season in the Kennebunks. I could immediately see why Amy had chosen to give up the fast pace of NYC in favor of this picturesque locale.

As the sun disappeared, it reminded me of my favorite snooty, intellectual, yet rarely used art school word—chiaroscuro. The contrast was so dramatic, with sweeping brushstrokes of light and dark where the sand met the sea. The shadows elongated as if on a time-lapse video. The clouds quietly hovered and picked up the colors of what the sun left behind.

Where would I stay in Kennebunk? The White Barn Inn, Naturally. Click here for availability.

KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE: GOING SOLO

I returned to the Kennebunkport beaches the following day to capture them in the morning light. The three crescent beaches that hug the coast in nearby Kennebunk are Gooch’s, Middle, and Mother’s beaches. Each has a unique topographic personality.

Middle Beach is mainly rocks, and I amassed quite a collection of shells there, ensuring I didn’t accidentally take any concealed snails back to DC. (Note past mistakes, some smells you never forget).

The white sandy beaches that line the Maine coast undoubtedly look different when the tourists arrive, but today, they are barren and soundless.

Visit the Kennebunks: Highs and Highlights

Snug Harbor Farm, without question, was the highlight of my morning. I’m sure the staff wondered if I was ever going to leave, and after about an hour, I reluctantly did, if only because I knew there was so much more to explore and so little time to do it.

A combination of farm, boutique, greenhouse, nursery, and dovecot, Snug Harbor was the antidote for my all-too-often nature-starved life.

Each greenhouse was more exquisite than the next, some containing seemingly never-ending rows of artfully designed succulents. Some had tall potted greenery, such as curry and lavender, pruned to look more like popsicles than plants.

Fuschia, Cypress, Coleus, and green and silver Santolina filled the nurseries. It was a garden circus, and I most definitely overstayed my welcome.

THE SNUG HARBOR BIO

Landscape designer Anthony Elliott bought Snug Harbor in 1998 and has since cultivated his love of traditional English gardens to create this local oasis. Martha Stewart cites Snug Harbor as one of her favorite sources for gardening advice. Well done, Mr. Elliott.

Miniature horses wander the farm, as well as pretty, colorful roosters and fluffy white pigeons that appear to have been recently tumble-dried. There is the resident bunny and, I’ve read, a ghost or two.

In an equine twist, I discovered the wandering miniature horses wandered a little too much for Snug Harbor’s liking. They’ve been relocated to a more secure location since their attempted escape.

Explore Kennebunkport on this private historic district walking tour. Click here!

Come Sail Away on Ocean Ave

Another fantastic spot to shop is Sea Bags, located on Ocean Avenue in Kennebunkport. Based in Portland, they handcraft every bag from recycled sails—yes, actual sails that have traveled around the world.

Each piece is made on the waterfront in Portland, and no two bags are exactly alike. The vintage collection is my fave with bits of the sail’s original stitching, grommets, and scuffs. They’re rugged, refined, and totally New England. I dare you to choose just one.

LOBSTER X 2: KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE

When choosing my only lunch in Kennebunkport, it was a given that I would have a lobster roll—a Maine staple. Armed with Amy’s recs, Alisson’s was the place to go. I was advised to sit at the bar and order the lobster roll and the award-winning clam chowder.

In one of the few times I’ve defied my all-knowing friend, I decided to double down on lobster: ordering lobster roll and lobster bisque. Too much of a good thing? Hardly. The lobster bisque was especially mind-blowing, with just the right texture, creaminess, and saltiness.

CLICK HERE TO GET MY FREE KENNEBUNKPORT HOT SHEET

EAT + DRINK IN KENNEBUNKPORT

As this was a mini-break, I meandered around town faster than usual, soaking up all the Kennebunks had to offer. My shortlist of Amy’s shortlist follows:

The Lost Fire, Patagonian Bar & Grill: A steak lover’s must, Head chef German Lucarelli is passionate about authentic Patagonian barbecue on his custom wood-fired grills. His smoky, hearty cuts have been firing up the Kennebunks since 2018.

Ultramar: The seafood sister restaurant to The Lost Fire has dishes to please all, including lobster four ways: bisque, roll, salad, or on top of spaghetti and other seasonal delights.

Boulangerie: If you don’t know, Boulangerie is ‘a proper bakery.’ I mean it: close your eyes, and these pastries will make you feel like you’ve been transported to Paris. Quiche, coffeecake, and croissants to die for, as one exuberant reviewer proclaimed. Pair with a cappuccino and grab a seat to enjoy the off-season.

Batson’s River Brewing & Distilling: Gastropub, brew pub, All-American bar. Call Batson’s whatever you’d like. Just be sure to order truffle fries and duck-fat cornbread to go with your stouts and brews.

Chez Rosa’s Bistro: A small French bistro in a romantic New England barn setting, offering comfort food influenced by nature, local seafood, farms, and pastures.

Rosella KPT: From NYC’s East Village to KPT, Maine, Rosella KPT’s sustainable sashimi and sushi are a welcome addition to Keenebunkport’s food scene. Centrally located at the Grand Hotel, mouth-watering slices of ahi tuna, yellowtail amberjack, and Acadian Redfish steal the show. But save room for dessert; the miso carrot cake is not to be missed.

Even more to do in KENNEBUNKPORT

KPort Provisions: The ultimate general store. Wine, coffee, Maine gifts, Bush paraphernalia, baked goods, and anything else you might need to picnic in the Kennebunks. If I had another lunch to spare, I would have grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of rosé and sat on the water’s edge to enjoy the afternoon view of the local church.

Minka: A beautifully curated artisan boutique. Home decor, accessories, and handbags are all chosen with evident care. The owners have thought through every detail in displaying their wares—grouping items by product and inventively by color palette. The designer in me was dazzled—a standout in a town of inviting boutiques.

Maine Art Hill: A collection of galleries and pop-up studios that highlight local artists. The open and brightly lit gallery was designed by the owner, John Spain, who has been in Kennebunkport for 30 years. There is art at price points that will work for just about everyone.

Dannah: A burst of blooms and coastal charm welcome you to Dannah. Inside, the boutique brims with beautifully curated finds—from lotions and artisan candles to jewelry, scarves, and handbags. Thoughtful touches like greeting cards, journals, and home décor mingle with a children’s section overflowing with plush animals. Whether your style is whimsical or refined, Dannah has something for everyone.

Dannah for Men: Kennebunkport’s newest shop focuses on men (how refreshing!) Unique gifts, home decor, barware, books, personal care & grooming, wallets, watches, belts, hats, sunglasses & readers, apparel, and so much more.

And A few More

Daytrip Society: A thoughtfully curated design store born from a love of adventure. Founded by native Mainers and passionate explorers, it offers a distinctive blend of home décor, gifts, accessories, and locally crafted treasures—each piece chosen to spark a sense of wanderlust.

Dock Square Emporium: Also at 30 years in Kennebunkport, this lovely little shop has local crafts and unique home decor, honey, cookbooks, terrariums, and succulents. The owner couldn’t have been more cheerful and hospitable. When I arrived, she’d just opened a damaged shipment of honey—a gooey, sticky mess. Instead of being annoyed, she was laughing about it with the customers.

Kennebunkport is the kind of place that somehow manages to make tourists feel like locals.

GOOSE ROCKS BEACH

Amy’s boss, Eric, generously gave me his car to explore. I would have been more than happy driving Amy’s fabulous blue pick-up truck, which was bought at an auction, sight unseen, by her husband. It still has the faded imprint of the ‘Kennebunk Parks and Recreation’ logo on the doors.

Eric insisted, which is how I could peruse the Maine beaches and coast. I started at Goose Rocks Beach and headed toward the exclusive enclave, Hidden Pond. Then, I stopped to watch the lobster pots unload before heading south toward the Bush compound. I chose the indirect, scenic route, not heading from point A to B, but rather a complicated yet scenically satisfying zig zag.

Where would I stay in Kennebunk? The White Barn Inn, Naturally. Click here for availability.

SCENIC HIGHWAYS OF THE KENNEBUNKS

As I drove out of town the following day, a whirlwind of lobster, ocean breezes, and freshly roasted coffee followed in my wake. I discovered one more reason to love this state that had thus far eluded me. I couldn’t put my finger on it right away, though. Why did this soulless highway seem so much nicer than the highways at home?

What was missing? Advertising. About 40 years ago, the governor signed into law an act that removed nearly 10,000 billboards from the highways of Maine. What a respite from my commercially overdosed daily life.

While I rarely travel without a plan or (gasp!) a dinner reservation, a visit to the Kennebunks was just what I needed to remind myself that some of the best finds are the ones you don’t plan. The ones that have you following roads based on instinct rather than Google.

Why not?

Explore Kennebunkport on this private historic district walking tour. Click here!

CLICK HERE TO GET MY FREE KENNEBUNKPORT, MAINE HOT SHEET

Anyone can Google a destination, but finding the right sources, the hidden gems, the places worth your time—well, that’s an art that takes time. I’ll cut through the noise, saving you from hours of searching in the wrong places. Each of my recommendations is researched with your specific trip in mind.

After visiting 70 countries on 7 continents, I know how overwhelming travel planning can be.

But I also know how to make it easy. And exciting. And stress-free.

Click here to learn more about Jamie Edwards Travel Coaching

My research. Your adventure.

January 1, 2025
Stowe in Summer: 10 of the Best Ways to get Local

A few summers ago, my husband and I decided to head north. To live village life, country life, and a less rushed life in the mountains of Stowe. My parents’ house was empty, and it seemed an ideal way to escape the oppressive DC heat—a way to break the monotony that had gradually manifested over the past few months.

We packed up only the most essential items: our kids, our dogs, a few hundred Nespresso capsules, and cornhole. As it turned out, our essentials don’t fit in one car, so we took two and began our 10-hour caravan to New England. We’ve been living in Stowe for over a month now, and while our kids ~~may~~ do feel slightly differently, it was the decision of the year for me and Daniel. I’ve learned a lot about living a simple life. For one, I’ve discovered that while big luxuries are great, little luxuries are even greater.

I’ve compiled a list of the things that Stowe and village life have given me—a mix of the tangible and intangible. A list of things I hadn’t thought much about but now seem overwhelmingly luxurious. My list is by no means complete and is seen through my tiny, rose-colored lens. I am excited for this list to grow as we spend more time in New England. But for now, and in no particular order, are the 10 things I have learned to appreciate, love, and (dare I say?) consider true luxuries about Stowe living.

Click here for my free Stowe Summer Hot Sheet

THE BEST OF STOWE #1: THE RECREATION PATH

Looping gently around the town of Stowe and covering 5.3 scenic miles is the much-loved Rec Path. The path is beautifully maintained and easily accessible. One natural starting point is directly behind the Stowe Community Church, the soaring centerpiece of the village. However, there are countless places to enter and exit the serpentine route.

Sixteen meticulously kept wooden bridges appear intermittently, crying out for photo ops as they arch over clear, stone-filled streams. The low rumble of bikes that pass over the wooden slats would alert me to their oncoming presence. Tots on tricycles would whiz past me, their parents racing to catch up. Bikers, walkers, and runners share the meandering path, which bends and curves around and behind the town’s main streets.

Lovely, hidden picnic spots dot the water’s edge, and I often hear kids splashing and squealing by the banks. A picturesque way to burn calories, the Rec Path has just the right balance of shade and sun, streams and fields, and cows and gardens to keep me entertained for a few hours.

Often, we bike to the back garden of Idletyme Brewing Co., a local restaurant, and enjoy a well-earned drink to cool off. It has an idyllic location on Mountain Road and the Rec Path. Fried pickles tempt me, which is no surprise if you read ahead to little luxury #3. Oversized, soft pretzels come hanging on a stand with various dipping sauces. Daniel always orders a flight of local IPAs from the tap.

THE BEST OF STOWE #2: THE QUIET PATH

If the Rec Path doesn’t conjure up a Norman Rockwell portrait, the Quiet Path certainly does. Built as a low-impact extension of the Rec Path, the mown grass pathways keep the Quiet Path true to its name.

The 1.8-mile panoramic route hugs the perimeter of tall, rapidly-growing cornfields and a burbling stream filled with beaver dams that my dogs always seem to destroy inadvertently. Alpine views are within sight, as is the steeple of the community church in the distance at specific points along the way.

Foot traffic only, whether four-legged or two, is allowed, and I found it amusing to read that dogs need to be under voice or leash control. Voice control is certainly not guaranteed with my two willful dogs, but luckily, I have yet to be reprimanded.

THE BEST OF STOWE #3: THE FARMERS’ MARKET

Sunday mornings quickly became something to look forward to when every day was beginning to feel like a Sunday. What was once a small smattering of vendors has since blossomed into a destination unto itself—the Stowe Farmers’ Market. A gathering of local vegetable producers, cheese vendors, ice cream makers, handmade crafts, and a variety of ethnic food stalls, the market offers different tastes and treats for the widely differing taste buds in my family.

My favorite food stall is Green Mountain Potstickers. Homemade dough that is just the right consistency, and balanced with the optimal amount of fillings—like edamame, scallions, chives, and tofu, for starters. Their scallion pancakes easily compete with those I’d had long ago in Beijing, as do the cold sesame noodle salads topped with julienne-sliced veggies.

The list of vendors and artisans at the Stowe Farmer’s Market has grown since the summer of COVID. Some of my favorites include Two Sons Bakehouse, Sage Farm Goat Dairy, and Stephanie Grace Ceramics. I don’t know how someone could pass by her stall without wanting to buy one of her magnificent porcelain creations. I certainly couldn’t.

The market is open from 10am-2pm from May through October. Go for lunch and be sure to grab a picnic table in the shade.

Click Here For My Free Stowe Summer Hot Sheet

THE BEST OF STOWE #4: SAGE FARM

I discovered that one of the Farmers’ Market vendors is just up the road from our house. Sage Farm Goat Dairy is a picture-perfect, Insta-ready, and family-run goat farm located on Upper West Hill Road. The weathered gray barn/farm store sits neatly next to a field of wildflowers and a tattered wooden fence. A small sign invites customers to walk in. The store is unattended and provides an honesty box alongside the refrigerated case of small-batch artisanal goat cheeses and fresh eggs.

Chickens peck noisily at the ground; some days, we spotted the goats roaming the fields. They have a bucolic spot, those lucky alpine goats. By the smug look on their long faces, I’m guessing that they know it.

THE BEST OF STOWE #5: FROM MARIA’S GARDEN

A pretty, gray, clapboard house sits at the top of Cape Cod Road; the charming roadside flower stand called From Maria’s Garden. Mason jar-filled wildflowers are presented daily, as are hand-cut bouquets and potted plants. A price list and honesty jar sit nearby, and she recently let me know that she has had the honor system in place since 1987—honesty—a popular Stowe theme.

As her website notes, Maria escaped the corporate life in NYC to live a simpler one in Vermont. She is a certified floral designer. Aside from her daily roadside flowers, she designs for weddings and events.

Every time I drive past, I am tempted to buy, and during our first few weeks in Stowe, I did just that. The homespun feeling that radiates from the colorful property is magnetic, and I have often seen Maria’s husband, shears in hand, cutting for the day’s arrangements.

Lately, noticing the variety of wildflowers that are blooming in our own backyard, I’ve started to create my own masterpieces. Although I think I need a little help. I wonder if Maria is available for lessons?

THE BEST OF STOWE #6: STOWE VILLAGE

The village of Stowe has a storybook setting, just the right amount of charm, quaint shops, ice cream parlors, and lively (modern definition: ‘socially distant’ lively) restaurants to wander and explore. Stowe village is slow-paced, an inherent part of its charm.

My son and I bike to breakfast some mornings, passing acres of cornfields and barns, and sit outside at his favorite, Café on Main. We eavesdrop on the locals gossiping over their coffees and Stowe Reporters. Little shops hide behind big shops. Stowe has many lovely historic homes to gawk over; photographing them became another daily pastime.

The Historic Old Depot houses one of my favorite Stowe treasures, Bear Pond Books. Perhaps because it was ‘born’ the same year I was, 1970. Or that it’s a 2nd generation, family-owned, independent bookstore that’s still going strong despite the rise of Amazon. In 35 years, I’ve never visited Stowe without getting lost in the aisles of Bear Pond.

Jennifer Hale, the owner, and her staff handpick the books. Her sweet pup, Tucker, curls up on a bed behind the register. I wonder if he, too, has a say in the book choices, as there are a lot of canine-related tomes. It feels highly curated, warm, and inviting, even on the coldest winter days. I rarely leave empty-handed.

A notable Stowe fact is that neon signs are strictly forbidden. Yet another way that Stowe can maintain its charm. Until I found myself in a non-neon environment, I realized how much of my life is neon-filled. Its absence has been refreshing.

THE BEST OF STOWE #7: STOWE TRAILS

The countless hiking and mountain biking trails could take up a post of their own. Suffice it to say that hiking has become one of my go-to activities over the years, and Stowe has more mountains, gorges, notches, summits, and waterfalls than I have time to tackle.

One morning, Daniel and I hiked to Sterling Pond. A steep, natural rock staircase welcomed us to the 2-mile climb and got my legs fired up faster than I was prepared for. Dense foliage, streams, and wet rocks gave way to tall pines, signaling that the summit was close. Moss-covered stones, fallen tree trunks, wild mushrooms, and a plush carpet of ferns covered the mountain floor. The reward for our efforts was a glorious, serene pond, which, to me, should be called a lake. Whatever it is called, it was a beautiful sight after an arduous climb.

Our next morning of hiking started with a steep, 4.5-mile switchback drive to the top of the Toll Road, followed by an hour-long open vista hike (The Long Trail) to the ‘chin’ of Mt Mansfield. There, we were rewarded with blue skies and 360-degree views of the area. We looked down over the grass-covered winter ski runs and gazed out towards the distant layers of overlapping mountains. My favorite kind of hike—one that both starts and ends at the top. Views rule.

While hiking back towards the car, we passed a man with a butterfly net, who we learned was actually searching for dragonflies. Although not just any dragonfly—he was on a mission to spot a particularly elusive species. Since then, I’ve taken note of the dragonflies I see every day at the pond after not having given them any thought before.

Click Here for My Free Stowe Summer Hot Sheet

THE BEST OF STOWE #8: WILDLIFE, VERMONT-STYLE

Who needs Africa to experience wildlife? In Stowe, I’ve seen beavers, frogs, hummingbirds, dragonflies, chipmunks, cows, gophers, snakes, horses, and even a pair of berry-eating bears. While not the traditional ‘big five,’ wildlife is fascinating regardless of size.

One early morning in July, my walk revealed a world of beaver dams, vivid clusters of fiery tiger lilies, dilapidated barns, and grazing cows. Even if I chose the same route to walk each day, I would inevitably spot something I hadn’t seen the day before, which was due, in part, to the ever-changing light, weather conditions, and bovine behavior.

I stopped mid-run one day to take a photo of a cornfield and found myself at a stand-off with a suspicious gopher. While stretching, later on, I caught a Monarch butterfly feasting on a flower. I never stop in my DC life. In Stowe, I stop and, in doing so, am rewarded with the littlest, most beautiful sights.

THE BEST OF STOWE #9: AL FRESCO DINING

Being such a popular, all-season travel destination, it isn’t surprising that Stowe has restaurants and cafés to suit just about everyone. Having had years of local eating under my belt (literally and figuratively), I came to town armed with a few faves.

The Bistro at Ten Acres has been perched at the junction of Luce Hill Road and Barrows Road for as long as I can remember and has always been my parents’ favorite. We sat outside for dinner, watching a particularly remarkable sunset one night, and wondered what it would be like to cash it all in and make the simple life of Stowe a permanent one.

Even outdoors, the Bistro at Ten Acres feels intimate. A musician played guitar, just far enough from the patio so that we could still have a conversation. The dry summer air made the night memorable, as did my lovely spring pesto over homemade linguini.

At 91 Main Street, California-inspired Plate became a new favorite. The owners, originally from LA, have been in Stowe for years. Their menu is described as being able to satisfy meat lovers and hard-core vegans. I’m not vegan, but I gravitated toward the vegan dishes when we visited. I thought the vegan crab cake starter was a menu highlight, as was the Tofu Ramen and Plate’s interpretation of a veggie burger. The wine list was incredibly well-thought-out, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t somehow factor into our return throughout the month.

THE BEST OF STOWE #10: MOUNTAIN SCENERY

Bucolic pastoral scenes that appear to be lifted from the canvas of a Wyeth abound. Wispy streaks of yellow grasses and lavender wildflowers lay against green pastures and distant blue skies. This led to an epiphanic moment.

After having spent days wondering why the sunsets seem to be more colorful in Vermont or the clouds more defined, I finally realized that it had nothing to do with the sun or the clouds at all. It’s the scenery against which the sunsets set and the cloud formations sit above that make it more spectacular. The sky can be gorgeous anywhere, like over the NJ Turnpike, for instance, but it wouldn’t look quite as pretty. (No offense, NJ). It’s the surrounding scene that makes it extraordinary.

The late afternoon thunderstorms that pass through mountainous Stowe instantly turn on all of the primary colors of the landscape. At times, we’ve been able to see both the incoming storm and the blue sky at exactly the same time. The dark clouds would inevitably swallow up the sky, and then bright blue would once again emerge.

After one particularly fast and furious morning storm, I witnessed a full rainbow that was so bright that it glowed.

SUMMER ISN’T OVER, YET

Tomorrow, I head back to DC. Our house in Vermont has felt like another world, and the change of scenery has been healthy on many levels. I’ve realized that I can define luxury in more ways than I had thought. Luxury is personal. It’s spotting a photo-worthy pond, buying pickles at a farmers’ market, or goat cheese from a barn with an honesty box.

How do you define luxury? It’s worth finding out.

Click here for my free Stowe summer hot sheet

Interactive Map of My Favorite Stowe Places

Trip map created using Wanderlog, for making itineraries on iOS and Android

June 15, 2024
Eagles Soar At Wildflower Farms. So Will You.

Wildflower Farms, an Auberge property in New York’s Hudson Valley, is the antidote to city life. Discover why it’s on everyone’s hot list.

Ryan puts our bags in the back of the motorized cart. Our bungalow is a short walk away, but it’s drizzling, so we welcome the ride. After a few social niceties, ‘Where are you from?’ ‘Is this a girls’ trip?’ ‘Are you sisters?’ Ryan slams the brakes. “I just saw a bald eagle—want to see his nest?” My jaw drops. Does my 16-year-old niece want to meet Taylor Swift? “Yes!” we say in unison. Ryan kicks the cart into gear.

So begins our wildlife-filled weekend at Wildflower Farms. My friend and I have come to this Hudson Valley resort to relax before the upcoming chaos of our sons’ high school graduations. I’m happy, but it’s a bittersweet happiness. That we see a bald eagle guarding her nest within minutes of our arrival seems timely. Symbolic, even.

I’m on the cusp of a major life change—the dreaded empty nest. As melodramatic as it sounds, this eagle sighting becomes a soppy, emotional metaphor for my stay. I have three days in the Hudson Valley to contemplate it.

The Hudson Valley—a Natural Getaway

The Hudson Valley is New York’s fastest-growing hot spot. Boutique hotels pop up like spring daffodils, luring New Yorkers from the concrete jungle. Only 90 minutes from the city, it’s a natural getaway. With deep roots in farming and agriculture, the Hudson Valley has some of the oldest wine-producing areas in the country. It has a thriving food and farmer’s market scene and challenging mountains to hike. The scenery is so bucolic it inspired the Hudson River School, a group of painters whose muse was the verdant landscape.

The Hudson Valley is a destination for art and nature lovers, history buffs, and gourmands. Wildflower Farms couldn’t be better placed to satisfy them all. But be warned. Guests will be hard-pressed to leave the property. The only way to do it all is to build in more time.

The Birth of an Art Movement

One reason guests flock to Wildflower Farms is its delicate balance between indoor and outdoor living. Another is the chance to walk in the footsteps of 19th-century artists like Thomas Cole and Frederic Edwin Church. Among other Hudson River School artists, their romantic vision of the landscape was born and cultivated in this very place. Focusing on three themes of Americana: discovery, exploration, and settlement, the movement’s goal was to portray a place where humans and nature could peacefully coexist.

Although Wildflower Farms caters to the well-heeled city crowd, the parking lot license plates prove people come from farther afield. Black, navy and gray apparel appear to be the uniform of choice, offset by squeaky clean, neon-colored Hokas. Despite the moody apparel and dark skies, Wildflower Farms is inherently bright. The staff seems to be living under an ever-moving sunbeam. Chipper, but not annoyingly so. Welcoming, but not overly eager.

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The Aerie

Ryan is spot-on. We find the eagle sitting in a tall Eastern White Pine beside her nest. Thankfully, Ryan had the wherewithal to stop at our cottage so we could grab our binoculars. They aren’t necessary. The aerie is so big LeBron James could use it for his pre-game nap. Fun fact: aerie is a fancy word for eagle’s nest. I have Will Shortz to thank for this tidbit of bird trivia. It’s one of his favorite New York Times crossword clues.

I see the eagle’s beady, honey-colored eyes through the lens, but I don’t need them to feel her intense stare. Is she counting down the weeks until her eaglets fly away? Is she sad? What will she do with all her downtime once they leave? I told you this would get soppy. Don’t judge until your kids fly the coop.

Welcome to Grand Central Station

An oversized open-air central firepit area called The Great Porch is the entry point of Wildflower Farms. It’s also the resort’s social and culinary hub. We go there for morning cappuccinos, rosé-infused lunches, and pre-dinner cocktails—all complemented by majestic Shawagunk mountain views. Banquettes circle the ever-blazing firepit. Should it be chilly, like during our stay, woolly blankets are within reach.

One morning, a black Suburban ambles up to reception. The trunk pops open, and two big doodles tumble out. Within minutes, water bowls, treats, and two cushy dog beds are placed fireside. The doodles look unfazed—as if this kind of treatment happens wherever they go. I notice their matching Valentino Rockstud collars. Maybe it does.

You Belong Among the Wildflowers

Sixty-five freestanding cabins and cottages are scattered throughout Wildflower Farms’ 140 acres in Gardiner, New York. Deceptively simple from the outside, each cabin is a highly curated gem. I can’t stop humming Tom Petty’s classic tune. I belong here.

The cabins are a destination unto themselves—beautifully appointed and chock full of welcoming treats, like shears for cutting flowers and a miniature glass vase to display them. The Bower Cabins are situated under a canopy of trees and have outdoor spaces to admire the scenery, birdwatch, and listen to the sounds of nature.

Meadow Cottages have vaulted wooden ceilings, wood-burning fireplaces, and private back gardens with daybeds facing the meadow. One morning, instead of racing to breakfast, I open the sliding glass doors to take in the breeze and the view. At Wildflower Farms, I’m constantly reminded to slow down.

Cabin interiors mirror the landscape in ways that would make the Hudson River School painters proud. A moss-green velvet couch sits on top of a stormy-blue patterned rug. A patchwork quilt that looks anything but old-fashioned is draped across a contemporary wood-framed bed. It’s Modern Americana. The rooms are light-filled and airy, with local artisan touches, hand-chosen books, and an inviting window seat to read them.

What to do at Wildflower Farms

Wildflower Farms Resort is like a sleepaway camp for grown-ups. Crafty on-site activities include watercolor classes, floral focaccia baking, botanical mixology, and pressed flower pottery workshops. There are opportunities to make body oils and perfume, shear sheep, take a sound bath, and unlock the astrological secrets of your birth chart.

Off-property activities are equally enchanting: fly fishing, hiking, mountain climbing, and cycling for the active-minded are offset by the treasure trove of wellness experiences at the Thistle Spa. For those who’d rather relax, Body Botany, Restorative River Stone Massage, and the Remodeling Facial are a few of the many treatments they offer. I learn that the spa uses ‘hand-harvested, small-batch oils with floral remedies.’ Bravo, Wildflower, I expect nothing less.

Two outdoor hot tubs, an indoor pool, a relaxation area with platform daybeds, and a sauna are dreamy ways to pass the day, rain or shine. Complimentary yoga classes and a gym are offered in a nearby cottage overlooking a quiet pond. For those who want to splurge, a sailboat can take up to six guests on the Hudson River for a decadent champagne picnic.

Farm to Pocket to Table

Set in the heart of the Hudson Valley, the traditional farm aspects of the property don’t feel contrived. Visitors can opt into as much or as little ‘farm life’ as they’d like. For instance, each morning, guests are invited to feed the farm animals and collect eggs. Later, they can take the eggs to Clay, Wildflower’s restaurant, and have them prepared ‘your way’ for breakfast.

I close my eyes and delicately reach under a fat hen, trying to decide ‘which way’ I want my eggs prepared for breakfast. It’s still raining. But if the chickens aren’t bothered, then neither am I. Move over, Sarah Jessica Parker; I can be a farmer when I want to be. I’m baffled but not surprised when one pushy woman fills her pockets with six eggs, leaving many of us eggless. I resist the urge to accidentally bump into her shiny Moncler vest, hoping karma will prevail.

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Restaurant Clay

Clay, named for the rich soil where Wildflower’s vegetables are grown, serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Its enormous yet intimate dining room has a stone fireplace, vaulted ceilings, and a unique seating layout.

Over our three days, I’m determined to sit in them all: the low, curved-back chairs that flank the central fireplace, the high-top tables with a bird’s-eye view into the kitchen, and the convivial banquettes that line the outer walls. Rugs, throw pillows, and upholstery patterns that shouldn’t look good together somehow do and reinforce why I will never be an interior designer.

My traveling companion is plant-based. Executive Sous Chef Kyle Chandler takes this as a personal challenge, creating culinary magic with plants, flowers, and vegetables. I’m secretly envious of her flower and herb-infused Pad Thai entrée, a dish created solely for her that evening. We share the light-as-air sweet potato tempura served with togarashi aioli and basil three nights in a row. Yes, they were that good.

Other menu highlights include farm-roasted carrots with tamarind and watermelon radish, and halibut accompanied by Brussels sprouts, pecans, and lemon. Yet, I will forever associate the humble olive oil pancake with our stay. The size of a standard-issue frisbee, topped with berries and a large dollop of lemon chantilly, it has forever ruined me for breakfast. I have no doubt that everyone who orders it swears it’s too big to finish—then completely devours it.

My Best Friend, Merlin

The rain allows me to experience Wildflower Farms in ways I didn’t anticipate. Instead of sitting by the pool with my nose buried in a book, I open the wide glass doors of our cabin and do pilates while watching mist fall on the meadow. I spot the eagle in a distant tree, this time with her mate. ‘Who’s guarding the nest?’ I wonder. Reading my mind, she takes flight. I watch her wingspan unfold in absolute awe as she soars over my head and out of frame.

The weather doesn’t stop us from exploring the property’s meandering trails. I use my Merlin Bird ID app without fear of ridicule, as my kids are hundreds of miles away. At one point, Merlin picks up seven different bird species chirping at once. If there’s ever a place to embrace your inner birder, Wildflower Farms is that place.

Yet, birds aren’t the only wildlife we see in the Hudson Valley. On one of our morning walks, a large cotton-tailed deer hops across our path. Another afternoon, we see a gray fox on the hunt. I revert to my love of collective nouns and discover that a group of eagles can be called an aerie, a convocation, or a soar. A group of foxes is called a skulk. A female fox is called a vixen, and male foxes are called dogs (how apt!). Who has this coveted collective noun naming job? I want to apply.

The Empty Nest

On our last morning at Wildflower Farms, I’m sitting fireside at The Great Porch when a spectacular thing happens—the sun comes out. I throw off my woolly blanket, abandon my cappuccino, and dash outside to take photos. The clouds part, and a double rainbow ekes its way through them. Gold cascades over the meadow, lighting the tips of the grasses. I see the doodles running amok. The rainbows arch over Wildflower Farms in a way that looks AI-generated. I watch them until they disappear.

There’s only one thing to do before the drive home. I grab my binoculars and walk towards the aerie, excitedly anticipating my last encounter with the eagles. I wait and wait, but they’re a no-show. The waiting gives me time to wallow in my soon-to-be empty nest sadness. Maybe it’s time to look at it in a new light.

An empty nest will give me more opportunities to visit places like Wildflower Farms. More chances to observe animals in their natural habitats (including ones wearing Chloé and Celine). And more chances to explore, discover, and settle—just like the Hudson River School painters did over a century ago.

Upwards and onwards. It’s time to let go.

Click here for my FREE Wish List Destinations Hot Sheet

May 29, 2024
How To Spend 12 Hours In Georgetown (Like A Local)

I’ve lived in Washington, D.C., for nearly 14 years. Aside from my childhood home, it’s the longest I’ve lived in any one place. Our nation’s capital has been good to me. It offers all the things I love in one bite-sized city. If DC is the solar system I reside in, Georgetown is my favorite planet.

When friends and family visit, they ask how I’d spend an ideal day in DC. While the city offers world-class museums, monuments, and parks, I always gravitate toward Georgetown’s historic and cobbled streets. It’s a microcosm of the city that can be easily explored in a day.

If the last time you traveled to Washington DC was on your 4th-grade class trip, it’s time to come back. The monuments haven’t changed much since 1982, so add Georgetown to your itinerary. Need a cheat sheet? I’ve got you covered.

Good Morning, Georgetown

I start my day with Wordle and an oat milk cappuccino. Those mornings, I find myself in Georgetown, where my favorite place to caffeinate is the DC-founded Compass Coffee. The cavernous space takes over part of the old Georgetown movie theater. It has a fun, buzzy vibe filled with laptop-toting, pajama-wearing Georgetown University students.

I bring my laptop but leave my pajamas at home, where they belong, and soak up their collective collegiate energy. Inevitably, I’ll start to reminisce about my university days. That leads me to wonder what my daughter is up to at college right now. Where does she get her coffee? Then, I think about writing a post about Seattle. Or, about coffee. Or, about coffee in Seattle. What was her starting Wordle word? Next thing I know, three hours have passed, and I’ve nothing to show for it but an empty mug and a disappointing 5/6 Wordle score.

Insider Tip: According to the ever-studious Georgetown University students, the seating area behind the coffee machines is the best place to meet up and get work done.

Café Love

All that daydreaming and non-productiveness makes me hungry. Thankfully, Georgetown has lots of dining options. When I’m ready for lunch, one of my go-to spots is Peacock Café.

PC: Peacock Café

Brotherly Love

Brothers Shahab and Maziar Farivar opened Peacock Café as a six-seat take-out restaurant in 1991. It’s now one of the most adored cafés in Georgetown. Every day feels like a carefree summer Friday at Peacock, and that has everything to do with Shahab’s sunny disposition when he greets guests at the door.

Peacock Café’s side street location off Wisconsin Avenue is filled with locals, as many tourists don’t veer from the main drag. The entire menu tempts me. But being a creature of habit, I always order the Ahi Tuna Salad. Maziar’s thinly sliced, seared sushi-grade tuna on a bed of arugula drizzled with sesame lemon gets me every time.

Insider Tip: You can take a chance and walk in at Peacock (Shahab will undoubtedly do his best to accommodate), but it’s a better bet to reserve on Open Table.

A must-have for visiting Georgetown—Download My $10 E-Guide for insider’s local knowledge here

PC: Yellow

The Sunny Side of the Street

Farther up Wisconsin is Yellow the Café. Yellow opened in 2022, and lunch in Georgetown hasn’t been the same since. There’s been a recent uptick in ethnic eateries like Shouk, Taim, and Simply Banh Mi, but I love Yellow best.

I love the easygoing, modern, and sunny decor. My mouth waters at the menu of mezze, hummus, and wood-fired pitas. I love the fusion of French cooking techniques and Middle Eastern flavors. And I love the fancy coffee program (yes, I can have multiple favorite coffee shops in Georgetown!). Without fail, a Baklava Latte or Coconut Cardamom Iced Coffee always satiates my second wave of caffeine cravings.

More than anything—I love that multicultural restaurants are thriving in Georgetown. It’s about time.

Insider Tip: The line starts to form by 11 a.m. on weekends, so be sure to arrive early if Yellow the Café is your brunch spot of choice. On weekdays, Yellow offers online ordering for pick-up

Book Hill—Georgetown’s Design District

In Georgetown, there’s no better way to burn off Coconut Cardamom calories than shopping. Of all the things to do in Georgetown, shopping is my guiltiest pleasure. Georgetown has its fair share of chain stores like Patagonia, CB2, and Apple. But the real gems of this lustrous neighborhood lie in the spaces between them.

Technically speaking, Book Hill is the Georgetown area from O Street to Reservoir Road along Wisconsin Avenue. It’s a section of Georgetown becoming known for high-end home decor shops, French boulangeries, and art galleries. Whether I feel like gallery hopping, window shopping, or increasing my step count, there’s much to keep me busy in Book Hill.

PC: Ally Banks Interiors

Women-Powered

Ally Banks Interiors and Pillar & Post are independent, female-owned boutiques in Book Hill. Ally Banks is one of DC’s most sought-after interior designers, who, after years in the industry, started her Georgetown shop. On any given day, I might come across a hand-woven Moroccan rug, a series of pen-and-ink drawings by Darrell Dean, or a set of Acacia Wood Salt and Pepper Mills I can’t live without. Ally’s highly curated sensibilities are on full display and are as timeless and extraordinary as her wares.

Insider Tip: Ally’s website is not only beautifully designed, it has items not found in her brick-and-mortar store.

Pillar & Post

Pillar & Post is just a few storefronts away and specializes in British antiques, gifts, and furnishings. Inspired by her frequent visits to London (her parents lived there for 15 years), owner Daphna Peled left US politics to bring a touch of UK royalty to Georgetown. Her keen eye for all things beautiful means her bi-annual scouting trips result in treasures for commoners like me.

I might spy an antique dressing mirror, a Tambour Top Writing Slope, an 18th-century botanical print, or a Victorian Chamber Pot. I can’t help but feel I’m stepping onto the set of Downton Abbey whenever I walk into Daphna’s time-transporting boutique.

Insider Tip: Daphna says she has much more in storage than she has on display in her shop or on her website. So be sure to ask if you are looking for something special from across the pond.

Late Afternoon Retail Therapy

A day in Georgetown isn’t complete unless each of my senses is stirred. The first time I entered the Georgetown outpost of Le Labo, the famous NYC-based perfumery, I let the distressed walls, peeling painted doors, and wooden planked floors fool me. I quickly discovered there are no bargains to be found at Le Labo. But ohhhhhhh, who cares? I must have a signature scent! After much sniffing, sneezing, whiffing, and wafting, I decided mine is Another 13. Want to find yours? For a price, there’s a signature scent for everyone.

Insider Tip: The Le Labo Discovery Set is an economical way to find a favorite scent.

Created For: I am Lost and Found

Shop Made In DC is my new favorite place to buy gifts. As the name implies, everything sold at Shop Made in DC is—made in DC. Having been a full-time designer, a short-term ceramicist, and an all-time lover of art, I can happily get behind a place that celebrates and supports local artists.

Shop Made in DC sells apothecary products to fill my bathtub, chocolate-laden gift boxes to fill my stomach, and unique hand-crafted items to fill my holiday stockings. That the inventory is always refreshed with new and exciting artists has me shopping Made in DC often.

Don’t miss this: Shop Made in DC offers classes to spark our creative sides. Collage, candle-making, or wine and watercolor, anyone? Check their website for details.

Craft Cocktails and Cozy Dinners

Originally a 1783 tavern established by clockmaker John Suter, The Fountain Inn (aka Suter’s Tavern) is reborn as an intimate spirits tasting room in Upper Georgetown. If you believe in history, Suter’s is known to be the first stagecoach stop in Georgetown for presidents and locals alike.

The see-and-be-seen watering hole of the 90s (the 1790s, that is), this moody, dramatic, and ambiently lit space has over 250 rare and vintage sips and craft cocktails. It’s an ideal venue to relax after a day on the go. If it was good enough for Washington, it’s certainly good enough for me.

Insider Knowledge: George Washington slept here (really!) In his diary dated March 28, 1791, he wrote, “dined (and lodged) at Suter’s Tavern.” I read this on the internet so it’s definitely true.

In Cady’s Alley

Cady’s Alley’s super sexy Kyojin Sushi has been number one on my Georgetown restaurant list for some time. Signature dishes like Tataki-style seared fish with French caviar, truffle wasabi, chili yuzu, or garlic ponzu have me opening a tab for Open Table as I write.

It seems I’m not the only person in DC with Kyojin on their wish list. The next available Friday reservation is at 530pm. I grab it anyway. I’ll call it a late lunch. Everyone knows that 5:30pm is the new 7:30pm.

I check out the menu: A5 Wagyu topped with Hokkaido uni, BBQ Eel Bowl, and Lavender-Smoked Salmon. These descriptions make me miss our years in Tokyo. Kyojin’s website claims that no two dining experiences are alike. I’ll be there at 530pm sharp to make sure you deliver on your promise, Chef Kannasute.

Don’t miss this: Kyojin’s Smoke Box includes a choice of Sashimi, Yuzu Ice, Chili Yuzu, Carpaccio Sauce, and Garlic Ponzu—all Cold Smoked with Lavender.

PC: The Graham

Late-ish Drinks and Snacks

It’s hard to call it quits just because I’ve finished dinner at 7:15pm. The Rooftop at the Graham is just the place to soak up what’s left of the sunlight and admire sweeping city views. On the off-chance I’m still hungry, I can enjoy ceviche, charcuterie, or hand-crafted tacos. At minimum, I sink into one of the rooftop sofas and order my go-to cocktail—a cucumber mint martini—the surest and fastest way to end my night. Worth it!

Insider Tip: The Graham is a historic luxury hotel nestled on the banks of the Potomac River. This would be my pick if I ever needed a hotel in Georgetown. It’s not only historic but also romantic. For more romantic ideas and activities in Washington, DC, click here. Pay special attention to #6 on the list. I’m thrilled to have been named a local expert on Redfin’s Apartment Guide.

Good Night, Georgetown

Georgetown has much to brag about for a neighborhood under two square miles. Its former residents include Julia Child, JFK, and Elizabeth Taylor. Films shot here include The Exorcist, St. Elmo’s Fire, and Wedding Crashers. It has wide green spaces, a wide and wild blue(ish) river, and wildly famous cupcakes.

I always look for new places to eat, shop, walk, explore, and drink in my adopted hometown. But somehow, I always seem to find myself wandering the streets of Georgetown. Fourth grade was eons ago. It’s time to come back.

A must-have for visiting Georgetown—Download My $10 E-Guide for insider’s local knowledge here

Have more than 12 hours? Just click on these popular Georgetown crowd-pleasers:

• The Taste of Georgetown Walking Food Tour

• DC‘s Hop-on Hop-off Tour by Open-top Bus with 17 Stops

I’m all about working remotely these days! Does working as a digital nomad appeal to you?
If so, take a peek at these online opportunities at Jooble.

(Please note a few affiliate links above for which I may receive a small referral fee. But rest assured, I only highlight products I fully stand behind.)

November 15, 2023
How To Experience the Low Country at Palmetto Bluff

Montage Palmetto Bluff is a well-preserved river town, complete with Low Country marshlands, a bird sanctuary, and centuries-old live oaks on the May River in South Carolina. Striking the right blend of highly-curated activities, creative dining options, and varied accommodations, Palmetto Bluff has everything it takes to experience a little Low Country living.

Not long ago, I read an article that sought to quantify the value of ‘things’ versus ‘experiences.’ The writer argued that happiness associated with things (jewelry, cars, electronics) is relatively short-lived compared to experiences (trips, dinners, outdoor adventures), where happiness lasts far longer.

Interestingly, it didn’t matter whether the experience itself was considered ‘good’ or ‘bad’. For instance, let’s say it rained the entire week we spent in Thailand (true). Or, maybe I accidentally booked a hotel in the wrong town on the Amalfi Coast (also true). The memories attached to those experiences are thought to give longer-lasting joy and make for funnier, more engaging stories. True. True. In other words, the laughter lives on.

Family planning with Palmetto Bluff

If there was ever a time to make new memories, that time is now. Some of us have young kids at home, remote learning. Some of us have our college students home for the near future. Perhaps this is an opportunity to capitalize on a weird historical moment and add a few adventures to the family books.

Last October, my family visited Palmetto Bluff in South Carolina. My husband, my kids, my parents (all four of them), my sister, her husband, and their kids. It was our first time in the Low Country. I didn’t fully grasp the importance of our reunion at the time. Those memories are even more poignant, as we haven’t been together since.

The time to start planning future family gatherings is right now. Hotels and airlines are more forgiving with change fees and cancellation policies. Wheels are in motion to make travel safer in the pandemic climate. Wheels are in actual motion across the country, as road trips have become the most popular method of transport. Travel wants us back. Our extended families miss us. Let’s go.

What is the Low Country?

I’m from the northeast. I know mountain life. I know lake life and city life. What I don’t know is Southern life. What does Low Country even mean, I wondered? I headed to Merriam-Webster. Low Country is ‘the low-lying region along the Atlantic coasts of South Carolina and Georgia.’ A bit dry, Mr. Merriam, but informative.

I googled deeper—all the way to page two—the ‘Google graveyard.’ From a cultural perspective, Low Country combines the influences of Southern, Native American, European, Caribbean, and African roots. It is known for its sub-tropical climate, which produces intricate marshlands thick with native birds and reptiles. Now, this was starting to sound more interesting.

Palmetto Bluff fills a Tall Order

Finding a scenic, conveniently located destination accommodating a large group aged 11 to 77 was no easy feat. We were searching for a place with multiple dining choices and a variety of cuisines to please the wide-ranging tastebuds of our crew.

It needed to be on the East Coast and have mild enough weather in mid-October to maximize time outdoors. We wanted a place that offered activities to suit all fitness levels.

Finally, it needed to be self-contained so we could have the freedom to explore yet still feel together. A tall order, indeed. As we soon discovered, it was nothing that Palmetto Bluff couldn’t handle.

Click here for my Wish List Destination Hot Sheet—it’s Free

Cue Palmetto Bluff

Palmetto Bluff is extraordinarily beautiful, in a way that is somewhat unreal and weirdly perfect. Like, The Truman Show, type of perfect. The landscape is nature-filled, inundated with various flora and fauna, including massive live oaks.

These ancient oaks drip with silvery gray beards of Spanish moss that glisten with the morning dew. Later in the afternoon, the elongated shadows from the descending sun added to the utter majesty of the trees.

At times, it seemed as if a ringmaster was shouting orders from behind closed doors. ‘Cue the alligator!’ ‘Now, the egrets!’ Ducklings, start waddling!’ Where exactly was he hiding?

The character of the Low Country was constantly seen, felt, tasted, and heard at Palmetto Bluff. Over five leisurely days, my family settled into a lulling sensory download—slow, Low Country life.

Palmetto Bluff’s Village Home 33

Montage Palmetto Bluff has 200 rooms and 35 private residences, which vary in size and style, ranging from traditional hotel rooms and one-bedroom river cottages to three, four, and five-bedroom village homes.

Our family took over a Victorian-inspired, five-bedroom, elegantly-appointed home. Village Home 33 overlooked one of the many low-arching bridges that unite and define the property. Renting a home versus individual rooms allowed our family to have space to be together and space to be apart. Village Home 33 became our family’s home base, with many common areas inside and out.

Meticulously kept gardens led to the entrance, flanked by two welcoming front porches. A swinging outdoor daybed with pillows in patriotic colors beckoned. I immediately knew that I was going to have trouble leaving the porch.

The house’s style was quasi-traditional, Restoration Hardware meets Southern Living Magazine. It had a modern, open-plan kitchen, multiple dining areas, a living room filled with books and games, and a 50-inch flat-screen television.

The master bath felt spa-like, with layers of natural colors, intricately designed, tiled walls, and a deep, soaking tub. No creature comfort was spared.

Location rules

They say location is everything. Village Home 33 was within walking distance of the property’s River House, where an intimate yet lively bar awaited. Here, too, was the destination for nightly s’mores. Two oversized stone fire pits crackled with fire just as the sun disappeared from view. Nearby, a rolling cart was heaped with various flavored marshmallows and milk chocolate bars. An indulgence for any age, indeed.

The home was also close to the Canoe Club, a thoughtfully created dining space with a clubby, warm, low-lit atmosphere.

Buffalo’s, also nearby, was the scene of our hearty Sunday brunch, southern biscuits and all.

Cole’s, a restaurant set in neighboring Moreland Village, overlooked the tranquil marshlands. A fun, casual dining space, its unique selling point was its state-of-the-art bowling alley. We spent a few post-dinner hours attempting strikes and spares with the kids. The sounds of pins getting knocked down and re-racked brought me back to my teenage years.

Worth noting—the house or room number is the way to pay for everything at Palmetto Bluff. Yes, everything. It is the local currency. This includes the stores in the village, the restaurants, the markets, and all activities. We discovered that the kids having access to that tidbit of information proved costly upon checkout.

Click here for my Wish List Destination Hot Sheet—it’s Free

What’s next at Palmetto Bluff?

Fire-engine red kayaks were waiting to be launched at the docks behind the perfectly constructed village. The tranquil, interconnected inlets and ponds weaved their way around Palmetto Bluff, allowing us to see various birds, pass underneath low-slung bridges, and look for sunbathing alligators on the grassy banks.

Great Blue Herons swooped surprisingly close overhead, trying to catch fish that occasionally jumped from the water. It was one of the many vantage points from which to explore Palmetto Bluff and my personal favorite. A close second was by bike, which was available to rent upon arrival. We kept our group of twelve bikes in the driveway for our stay—a family peloton.

As if daring us to be bored, Palmetto Bluff offered more activities and adventures than we could experience in five days. Little did Palmetto Bluff know that boredom was a welcome treat for me. However, Palmetto Bluff was a playground waiting to be explored and conquered for the kids.

My stepdad played pickleball against every grandchild. One morning, we scoured the marshlands by boat. Later, the kids went tubing at breakneck speed on the placid water, their high-pitched squeals trailing behind them.

On another day, our crew tried our luck at clay pigeon shooting, an activity that captured the imagination of the 11-year-old and the 77-year-old alike.

We were hard-pressed to find downtime between the adult pool, the kid’s pool, the s’mores pits, the treehouses, tennis, bowling, and archery. Yet, we did, in the form of reading on the porch or cocktails at the nearby River House. Taking long walks through the village lanes and along the piers that jutted out over the May River. We found time. Or, maybe time found us.

Sounds of simpler times

It was a trip that harkened back to simpler times. I certainly couldn’t have been fully aware then that this trip would provide memories for me to pull out of my mind’s archives when I needed a lift in mood. The homespun village undertones were sewn into the landscape of Palmetto Bluff.

I remember us poking fun at the low snore of my stepfather as he dozed on the porch each afternoon. And I can still hear the banter of siblings and cousins as they created TikToks in the living room. I listened to the sounds of my son and nephew peeling down the street on their bikes.

I heard laughter from the kitchen, the pop of a wine cork, and the telltale pings and pongs of a backyard tournament. When added up, all of these unremarkable sounds told a much more remarkable story.

They were the sounds of memories being made, and it was novel to listen to them without life’s usual distractions.

And that is how you experience the Low Country, y’all.

Ready to head to the Lowcountry? Check For Availability Here!

Note: I may receive a small fee for any affiliate links above, but rest assured, I only highlight places I recommend from personal experience.

February 8, 2023
I wouldn’t go there if I were you (Why where we choose to travel matters)

The landline rings. I immediately know it’s my mother calling. From the way she says ‘hello’ I know something else—that I’m not going to like the conversation. I’m tempted to feign a poor connection and hang up.

‘A woman was kidnapped in Uganda’, my mother says, her voice measured, with frantic undertones. ‘At gunpoint’, she continues, ‘alone, while on safari.’

‘I’m not going to Uganda for four months, Mom’, I say, my voice measured, with annoyed undertones.

‘And, I’m 49 years old. I’m a grown-up.’

‘She was 35’, my mom replies.

I hang up.

The phone rings again. It’s my dad.

I’m measured by nature. So much so that my baking skills are flawless. You can’t improvise a chocolate soufflé no matter what The Great British Bake Off would have us believe. I’m a recipe follower. A rule follower. I color inside the lines.

So while it’s true the unfortunate kidnapping in Uganda happened only a few months before I’m due to go. And also true I’m traveling solo to Queen Elizabeth National Park, the very park she was kidnapped from, I do what I do best—I measure.

As departure day looms, I research as if my life depends upon it. Ultimately, I deem Uganda safe. Safer, I’ll add, than my current hometown. I tell my parents that lightning never strikes the same place twice.

They don’t buy that, either.

Where we choose to travel matters. Some of us choose to cage dive with sharks off the coast of South Africa for a high-adrenaline thrill. Others choose to restore coral reefs in Australia in order to help save the planet’s fragile ecosystems.

Our adventure mindsets are decidedly different and have individual arcs—from dangerous to safe, worthless to worthwhile. I think of the center of this arc as my comfort zone. The times I step out of my comfort zone are rewarding beyond measure. Uganda is one such time. But there are others.

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Preconceptions aside

Checking in with my good friend Merriam-Webster, I note the synonyms for ‘preconceived’. They include biased, bigoted, influenced, prejudiced, and opinionated. Preconception sure does come with a lot of heavy baggage.

Over the years, I’ve been ‘encouraged’ to rethink travel plans. That encouragement may have been due to a particular country’s current state of civil unrest. Or, because the terrain is considered treacherous. Or, simply because it just doesn’t seem fun. Most of the time it’s due to preconceived notions about our destination. Notions that I’m keen to dispel.

The unsolicited advice is well-intended, I know. Yet, in the end, we are masters of our own domains. Or in this case, travel itineraries. Sorry, mom.

You’ll get kidnapped in Uganda

I possess a healthy fear of traveling to Uganda. I rarely travel solo. The last time I traveled alone was in 1994 when my then-boyfriend and I broke up and I booked a spontaneous flight to St. Thomas to cry.

My salty tears drip into plastic goblets of overpriced, oaky, California chardonnay. A few days later, two friends track me down to save me from myself (and to suggest a cold Carib, instead).

Any fears I carry with me from DC to Uganda dissipate upon arrival. Reality versus preconception. The gap is deep and wide.

I’m due to meet up with a friend in Bwindi National Park later on, which leaves me solo in the southern Ishasha sector of Queen Elizabeth National Park. I spend three nights at a remote tent camp alongside the Ntungwe river, where the sounds of wildlife begin to fill the warm African air just as I am heading to bed.

The savannah after dark is a universe unto its own. It is ~~one of~~ the only place I would rather be awake while everyone else is asleep. One night, I hear an elephant’s enormous body graze the side of my canvas tent. I note the natural tempo of his slow-paced, padded steps.

My heart thumps so loudly that I’m sure he can hear it. In the dead of night, the chorus of animal life is nearly spiritual. Not much later, I feel the roar of a lion as much as I hear it. I try my best to stay awake, not wanting to miss a growl.

The famous tree-climbing lions are part of the reason I choose to visit Uganda. The Ishasha sector of Queen Elizabeth National Park is the only place in the world to see them. Lions that climb acacia trees to find shelter from the heat, take a well-earned nap, or spy on helpless prey. Another reason is to observe the Silverback gorillas, a species that can’t be found in any zoos or game parks.

Finding Gold, in Africa

Yet, there are reasons beyond wildlife that make this trip remarkable. It’s the people. Not only the people who live and work in the destinations we are traveling to (bartenders, guides, trackers, and school kids) but the other adventure-seekers we meet along the way.

Whether that be the women I meet in seats 2B and 2C en route to Ishasha, the birders with whom I cross the Mabamba Swamp, or the digital nomad punching keys on the bar stool beside me. It’s all about the animals, in Uganda. But, it’s also all about the people.

The bush plane I take from Ishasha to Kihihi seats four people. Across the aisle sits a tall, elegant man with inquisitive eyes and an endearing smile. We chit-chat (an activity I love) while waiting for wheels-up. My husband is not a chit-chatter, so when I’m alone I chit-chat like there’s no tomorrow.

I learn that although he currently lives in Milan, he’s originally from the small African nation of Burundi. I ask him about Burundi and why he is visiting Uganda. We exchange stories of our game drives and animal sightings. We compare kills in detail and count ourselves lucky for having seen one. He tells me about his twins and that he works for Nike.

“Have you been to the United States?”, I ask.

“Once”, he responds, “to Atlanta, back in 1996.”

I feel creaky, rusty cogs turn slowly in my mind. My Trivial Pursuit general knowledge resurfaces and I imagine inserting a red wedge into a little, plastic wheel.

“Wait. Did you go to the Olympics?”

Bashfully, he tells me he was in fact, in the Olympics. My jaw hits the tray table. I’m about to ask more but just then the engine sputters to life at a decibel level that renders speech useless. Stray zebras clear the runway. We’re off.

Later, when I’m reunited with Wi-Fi, I google my humble seatmate, (you wouldn’t?). His name is Vénuste Niyongabo. I learned he trained to compete in the 1500-meter race for the ’96 Olympics. He was considered the clear favorite, but at the last minute forfeited his space to a teammate who hadn’t been able to compete in ’88 or ’92. Vénuste entered the 5000-meter race instead, one he hadn’t trained for. In his final lap, Vénuste went on to win an unexpected Olympic gold.

The only Olympic gold medal winner for Burundi. Ever.

Where I choose to travel matters. I choose Uganda and expect to observe climbing lions and track Silverbacks. I don’t expect a chance encounter with an Olympic Gold medalist on a four-seater Cessna. As valuable a memory as any other I collect while in Uganda. Maybe the most valuable. Human connection trumps all.

Oh, and no one gets kidnapped in Uganda that week. I check.

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Drugs are everywhere in Colombia

You’re going to Colombia? Haven’t you seen Narcos? Ahhh, if I had a peso for every time I heard that one. To those stuck in the Netflix version of Colombia, circa 1980, I ask you to join me in the present day.

I visit Cartagena because I’d like to be dazzled by a Spanish colonial city in a Gabriel García Márquez kind of way. Magical Realism is a part of Colombia’s allure, at least in the literary sense. My expectations are unreasonably high. I picture men levitating in the streets and musical notes dancing in mid-air. I conjure up the aroma of deep-fried yucca from street vendors and imagine the echo of clomping horse hooves on cobbled streets.

I read One Hundred Years of Solitude for the third time, in anticipation.

Many things are sold on the electrically-charged street corners of Cartagena, but as far as I see, none of them are drugs. The street corners I pass sell pineapples, papayas, and wedges of juicy watermelon. Messy perhaps, but not illegal, merchandise.

The palenqueras are the glorious fruit sellers of Cartagena. Their bright clothing and broad smiles are colorfully woven into the fabric of the city. At one time, these iconic women carried baskets of fruit upon their heads from their Palanque village to the city center. Today, they find a shady patch of the street or plaza to offer their bounty of produce to tourists.

The World Cup: USA v. Colombia

One day we walk to Getsemaní, a neighborhood just beyond the fortified walls of the old city. It’s gritty, raw, and all about street life. We stumble upon the chipped mustard-yellow walls of the Town Hall on Plaza de la Trinidad. The colors of Cartagena are kaleidoscopic—a harmonious match to the zeal of the city.

We see young Colombian kids playing a game of pick-up soccer. They run as fast and effortlessly in torn flip-flops and battered Crocs as most American kids can in Nike Airs. Premier League jerseys hang loosely off their lanky frames. A group of men is stooping nearby, their faces weathered and grooved like an old LP. I take a mental photo. I still have it.

My son is nine years old. Without warning, he dives headfirst into the game. My husband, daughter, and I sit on a bench nearby—front-row seats to an impromptu World Cup match.

The kids don’t bat an eye at the American newcomer and absorb him into the game like an old friend. They don’t have language in common, but somehow figure out who is playing which position and who is on which team. Sport has a language all its own.

Goalposts are marked with soda cans. Yet, the game matters in ways beyond scoring. My son takes a shot on goal and misses. The game resets. A lesson in Latin American football, my husband muses on the sidelines. A lesson in a lot of things, I can’t help but think.

Finnish Lapland doesn’t sound like fun

“You do realize there are only a few hours of daylight in Finland during winter?”, chirps a nosy woman seated on my left. She is way too close to my screen, I think, as I scoot further down the banquette at my local coffee shop.

Yes, I discover that little factoid while researching our post-Christmas trip to Finnish Lapland. A holiday of near-perpetual darkness isn’t for everyone. I’m hoping it’s for us.

I want to tell her “if we all traveled to the same place, the Dominican Republic would sink to the bottom of the sea. So, while I appreciate your concern that we might not have fun in Finland, let me say one thing—I’m a grown-up. I can go where I want.”

I don’t say any of that. But I want to.

Finland turns out to be one of the funnest vacations we have as a family. I use ‘funnest’ deliberately here. I know it isn’t a real word—I have Grammarly.

The main reason I want to go to Finland is to see the Northern Lights, which I hear is all but guaranteed in Finnish Lapland. Naturally, I don’t tell my family this. Instead, I google all the ways to have fun in the Arctic Circle in December. There are 35,800,000 results. Phew.

I get the guaranteed aurora borealis on our first night in Lapland. Ticking that box early means I can fully embrace the other 35,799,000 fun things I’ve promised my family we can do. Among many fun activities, the funnest (again, for emphasis) takes the form of 17 yelping huskies pulling us on small metal sleds at breakneck speed at dusk (aka noon).

Toni, the dog whisperer of Finland, is our guide. He has an ease and lightness about him that belies his 20-something years. Before departing into the wilderness, Toni gives us vital instructions on how to maneuver the dogs. None of which I can hear. The dogs are barking so loudly they shake the snow off the trees.

Once the dogs get mushing, the landscape deafens. It’s like someone muted Finland by remote control. The beauty of the landscape is enhanced by the centuries-old silence of dogsledding.

Toni guides us over frozen lakes and under tall pines. The sky renders shades of lavender and pink. Then almost imperceptibly, those colors transform into magenta and orange. A setting from a fairy tale, the low-angled winter sun casts long shadows on the snow, which is far from snow white. It is purple-white, pink-white, and blue-white. Benjamin Moore could learn a thing or two about color in Finland.

Night-filled days are fun, but tiring. After seven nights in the Arctic, I’m excited to get home for some vitamin D and to watch White Fang. The memory of Toni and his unwavering command over our pack of huskies will be hard to forget.

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Do you know about that terrifying runway in Bhutan?

By the numbers, Paro, Bhutan’s only international airport, has incredible stats. Only 17 pilots are qualified to land there. The runway is a skimpy 6500 feet long and surrounded by steep 18,000-foot snow-covered Himalayan peaks. Airplanes need to carve a 45-degree angle around these dramatic peaks moments before touchdown. Oh, and flights are only allowed to land during the day, in good weather conditions, and when a full moon is rising.

The full moon part is a joke. The rest is no joke.

We go to Bhutan to celebrate my 40th birthday, despite the statistics people have kindly sent us regarding plane crashes. ‘Bhutan is the happiest place on earth!’, I read. If I have to turn 40, then I’m going to do it in the happiest place on earth, dammit.

Leopards, tigers, and dragons. Oh my.

The Kingdom of Bhutan is known as the ‘Land of the Thunder Dragon’. One of its most famous sights is called The Tiger’s Nest. The Himalayan foothills are home to the elusive clouded leopard. Leopards, tigers, and dragons? Whoa. Bhutan is setting a high bar.

The crowned jewel of Bhutan is the Tiger’s Nest (Paro Taktsang), an ancient monastery that hangs precariously off of a 10,000-foot cliff. The Tiger’s Nest is a sacred space built on a cave site where Indian gurus meditated in the 8th century. The cluster of temples that are perched there now was built in 1692. The Tiger’s Nest is why I choose to visit Bhutan—to absorb a small part of its immense spirituality. To get there, I will push myself physically and mentally.

Pema, our Bhutanese guide, personifies the happiness index I have heard so much about. His dimpled smile radiates as he tells us the history of his country. He talks about his favorite Bhutanese dishes, his wife, and his kids. I again remember why I travel is as much about the people as it is about the destination.

The hike is rigorous, which we expect. Red, yellow, and blue prayer flags flap—primary colors fraying from years of wind and rain. An enormous prayer wheel meets us along the way and I attempt to channel the surrounding aura. Mountain peaks, craggy rocks, and cloudless, bright blue skies. I am looking for a sign—a way to connect, however unrealistic that is.

From a physical point of view, I’m well within my comfort zone—the center of my personal arc. The terrain is tough to climb, but not impossible. Yet, from a spiritual viewpoint, I’m out of my depths. I’m eager to embrace it, but it’s a challenge.

Eventually, we enter a clearing—a break from the blue pine forest. I see the Tiger’s Nest directly across the valley, hanging onto a sheer rock face exactly where I expect it to be. I imagine the tigress in her lair as well as the generations of people who have trekked here before me. We have 700 steps to descend and another 250 to ascend before we reach our goal. Slightly out of breath, I stop to look up.

Above me, I see a fully-formed 360-degree rainbow circling the sun. I’ll say that one more time for impact—a rainbow circling the sun.

This phenomenon, I later discover, is a sun halo. It occurs when sunlight refracts millions of hexagonal ice crystals. Those crystals then become suspended in the atmosphere to cause an otherworldly ring around the sun.

I didn’t even know sun halos existed. I have yet to see one since. Maybe this is the goal? A sun halo—my forever connection to Bhutan. Who doesn’t believe in signs?

Travel matters

In Cartagena, I expect to be immersed in a magical, yet real, world of art, culture, and food. I don’t expect to watch an impromptu pick-up soccer game on a gritty Colombian plaza.

In Finland, I expect to glimpse electric green brushstrokes of charged particles crossing a black sky—not to be immersed in the age-old sport of dogsledding within a world of white.

In Bhutan, the Tiger’s Nest is my intended goal. Yet, it’s overshadowed, quite literally, by an ethereal atmospheric phenomenon.

And in Uganda? In Uganda, I track mighty Silverbacks and see rare climbing lions. So-called ‘once-in-a-lifetime experiences.’ But, then I meet Vénuste Niyongabo—a man who brings home gold to the poorest country in the world.

Why do I travel?

One of my favorite authors says it best:

“After all, we travel for the same reason we read: to remind ourselves of the existence, and also the inexplicability, of other lives, to recognize ourselves within that which is foreign to us. We are one person when we begin a trip, or a book or an article; we are another person when we conclude it. Another person, but also the same-we take the journey to see ourselves.” —Hanya Yanagihara

Where I choose to travel matters. I take the journey to see myself. Although what I discover isn’t always what I expect, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The risks of my choices are mine to bear. I’ll take those risks because I value the rewards that accompany them.

And also, because I’m a grown-up, dammit.

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August 15, 2022
The Claremont Hotel is Acadia National Park’s Hidden Gem

The Claremont Hotel and Acadia National Park are a Maine tour de force. The recently redesigned Claremont Hotel has upped the ante on guest experiences in an unparalleled setting. So, if a glass of wine on a wraparound porch facing sunset-tinged mountains excites you, look no further than The Claremont Hotel. And, if hiking mountains to 360-degree panoramic vistas excites you, look no further than Acadia National Park. Read on to discover why The Claremont Hotel, just outside Acadia National Park, is a waterside gem.

Acadia National Park is a national treasure. After decades of overlooking beauty in my own backyard, I discover our national parks. Is it weird that my discovery overlaps Obama’s Netflix series, Our Great National Parks? Or can we all agree that he and I are kindred spirits? “Yes, we can!”

In the summer of 2020, when our overseas travel plans were so rudely interrupted, we decided to visit Utah’s Canyonlands and Arches National Parks. These desert parks were so deserted that I had no one to ask, ‘Where are you from?’. Or, ‘What brings you here?’. Questions all but guaranteed to embarrass my kids and husband.

Arches and Canyonlands encouraged us to fall back in love—with the USA.

So when a friend asked if I could join her on a girl’s trip, complete with a stay at The Claremont Hotel, including daily adventures to Bar Harbor, Mount Desert Island, and Acadia National Park, I didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes! Yes, I can!”

The Claremont Hotel + Acadia = Adventure + Luxury

Finding the optimal balance between adventure and luxury on a holiday is personal math. Some seek a 75/25 or 60/40 balance between the two. I strive for 50/50. Hmmm, does that sound like I’m satisfied with 50% of each? I’d like 100% each. So, I’m striving for a 100/100 balance. Is that even a thing? I hate math. You get the point.

The Claremont Hotel on Mount Desert Island is the consummate compliment to an adventure in Maine’s Acadia National Park. My sought-after 100/100. Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for finding this waterside escape on the edge of Somes Sound. What I can do is pass it along with reasons why it makes a heavenly home base for an Acadia National Park trip.

For me, passing on nuggets of inspiration so that others may enjoy it is what travel is all about. That’s certainly why this website exists. It’s no fun being the only one to know about a sensational travel destination like Acadia National Park or a hot place like the Claremont Hotel. Well, sometimes it’s fun. As long as I get there first.

The Claremont Hotel, first impressions

Our car weaves up and around rolling hills and through scenic towns like Bar Harbor. I see Mount Desert Island in the distance. I see handcrafted signs that cheer, ‘Welcome To Maine! The Way Life Should Be!’ I’ll be the judge of that, I think cynically.

When we pull into The Claremont Hotel’s long driveway I can’t help but take a moment’s pause. A soft landing for my eyes and ears. In front of me stands a grand, lily-white, three-story home set against a cornflower blue sky. I hear the lulling melody of seagulls overhead.

Fuchsia geraniums and forest green ivy cascade over window boxes. A carpet of short, manicured grass lead my gaze toward the mirror-calm sound. Mountains rise majestically in the distance. I pause a little longer, resisting the urge to snap, tag, and post.

I feel like I’m home. I’ve yet to step onto the full wraparound porch or into the Claremont Hotel itself. I’ve been here less than five minutes and I’m already disappointed I’ll eventually have to leave. I know a treasure when I see one.

The Claremont Hotel, The Captain’s Choice

The Claremont Hotel is a historic and impeccably maintained six-acre property on Southwest Harbor, near Acadia National Park. It was built as a summer destination for wealthy families to escape the oppressive summer heat of the northeast. Its location near Bar Harbor was hand-picked by a retired sea captain named Jesse Pease. Capt. Jesse knew a treasure when he saw one, too.

Built in 1883, the Claremont Hotel was family-run until 1908 when it was sold to a local doctor. In 2020, it was bought by hospitality guru and real estate developer, Tim Harrington. Mr. Harrington is also the man behind other magnificent Maine properties like Hidden Pond and Tides Beach Club.

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The Claremont Hotel: Sights and Scents

Upon entering the hotel, I first notice a tall, white ceramic dog sitting regally on a window ledge. Instead of facing inwards toward the room, this stoic Doberman is facing out, admiring the lavish grounds, just like me.

The next thing I notice isn’t visible. It’s sandalwood—the Claremont Hotel’s signature scent. Signature scents are all the rage these days. I saunter past the Doberman, knowing full well I’m being lured into the gift shop against my will. Now, every time I enter my living room in DC I’m reminded that I’m no longer at the beautiful Claremont Hotel. Pavlov’s theory was no joke.

The Claremont Hotel’s main house has common spaces that ignite my love of interior design and all things pretty. To say I swoon is an understatement. Patterns I’d expect to clash, instead harmonize. Palettes that I’ve always disliked, I suddenly love. Sister Parish paper wraps the walls. It’s textile nirvana—as if the DC Design Center exploded and thousands of colorful fabric samples were forced to find new soul mates.

Each piece of furniture feels collected rather than bought. Every coffee table book appears well-read and well-loved. The room has an ever-burning fireplace and a games table where I spy guests actually gaming. And I don’t mean Xbox. It’s so accommodating and peaceful, that I’m tempted to sink into a chair and stay there indefinitely.

But I don’t. There’s so much to explore both indoors and out at The Claremont Hotel. I only have three days. Time is of the essence.

The Claremont Hotel: A room, cottage, or house, with a view

I’d normally gravitate towards a cottage or house when at a property like the Claremont Hotel. But I wouldn’t have traded my intimate and bright guest room in the main house of this gorgeous Acadia hotel for any other that week. This being a girls’ trip, I have a room to myself—a rare event, indeed. I don’t take it for granted.

The main house has three and a half floors and 24 guest rooms. The rooms facing the front of the Claremont Hotel have the before-mentioned window boxes. The rooms facing Somes sound receive the morning sun. Beds have piles of cushy pillows propped up against William Morris fabric-covered headboards. Fabric-covered headboards are propped up against patterned-covered walls. Patterns rule at The Claremont. I’m tempted to stay in my room all day to admire them.

But I don’t. Acadia National Park is calling. And my friend is antsy to get going. She’s a very fast walker. The last time we hiked together was in Uganda tracking the Silverback Gorillas. I’m hoping she slows her pace this time. These views don’t weigh 600 lbs and move.

Acadia calls

Lest I forget the reason for our trip—three days of taxing trails, peaks, and panoramas in Acadia National Park. At nearly 50,000 acres, the park includes natural coastlines with rocky headlands, exposed granite rock faces, and U-shaped valleys. It has biodiverse wetlands, stone beaches, and pine forests. Pretty impressive stats, Acadia. I’m putting on my hiking boots now. Be patient!

Acadia National Park is home to Cadillac Mountain, the tallest mountain on America’s eastern seaboard. Tack on 158 miles of hiking trails, 27 miles of motorized roads, and 45 miles of pedestrian-only carriage roads, and I easily calculate, (even with my miserable math skills), that I don’t have enough time here.

Built between 1913 and 1940, the historic carriage road network was a gift from philanthropist and oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller. Sixteen low-arched granite bridges connect the pebble-lined paths. Mr. Rockefeller, an avid horseman, was adamant the park be non-motorized. I hope his horses appreciated the gesture.

Off-Season Rules

We visit Maine in mid-May, which is considered off-season. My friend warns us that Mother Nature isn’t always kind to Maine in May and tells us to prepare for cold and rain. Ever the rule follower, I do just that, despite the weather forecast that continues to predict sunnier and warmer climes than the destination I’m coming from.

Over the next three days, I’m ridiculed for my over-preparedness. Go ahead and laugh. Had we gotten lost, I would have been the only one with a baggie of trail mix and a Stroopwafel.

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The Ladders and Loops of Acadia National Park

This brings me to our Acadia park hikes. As advertised, the 3.3-mile Ladder Trail Loop that leads to the summit of Dorr Mountain includes a series of ladders to help scale the rock faces. I liken the Ladder Trail to an open-air StairMaster.

Any part of the trail that is not a ladder is a steep granite step. I curse the person who made these steps. I curse the person who invented ladders. My quads curse me. But then we get to the summit and all is forgiven.

The following morning, we tackle St. Saveur and Acadia Mountains. A 3.9-mile loop with two glorious mountain peaks. The trail meanders around lichen and moss-covered boulders. Gnarled, ancient tree trunks appear rooted in the rocks themselves.

The pines have clusters of lavender buds against green needles. Wild purple Rhodora emerges en masse and frames the distant views. Little kelly green ferns unfurl. Later, I recognize these very colors sewn into the fabrics at The Claremont. Mother Nature’s palette never disappoints.

The trail takes us above the conifer tree line for a rewarding water-filled view. More than once we get turned around and retrace our steps to find the trail markers. No one mentions my stash of Stroopwafels, but I know they are jealous.

Stop and smell the blueberries

Maine may be known for blueberries, but in mid-May, we are out of luck. I’m willing to sacrifice the plump blueberries to the bears in order to have the trails to ourselves.

Acadia National Park, however, thrives in ways well beyond flowering and fruiting shrubs. Evergreen pitch pines and colorful native woodland flora abound. At the water’s edge, I peer into mini eco-systems living within the tidal pools. While we don’t see much wildlife, I’m told there are otters, deer, red foxes, and of course, bears, if you look hard enough.

The Claremont Hotel: Porchin’

We survive the hike, the ladders, the granite StairMaster, and the bears. Time to bask in our accomplishments. Back at the Claremont Hotel, a hot shower beckons, followed by a front-row seat on an evergreen rattan porch rocker with a glass of wine. The rest of my day will be rosé-tinted and food-centric.

The porch. It’s undoubtedly the best outdoor spot at The Claremont Hotel. In the foreground, there is a welcoming heated pool, with pink and white striped umbrellas that summon up scenes from Dirty Dancing. (Ugh. I forgot to avoid all cultural references that reveal my age.)

The pool is surrounded by an intricate pattern of lattice-cut grass. At the Claremont Hotel, even the lawn has patterns. In the distance, there are mountains to daydream about climbing. On the porch, there are green blankets in a basket to take the edge off the crisp air. I savor the soothing built-in beauty of the hotel while reflecting on our day. I reflect on Patrick Swayze. My 100/100 balance of luxury and adventure is realized.

Meet Harry and Fern

I’d be remiss if I didn’t introduce Harry and Fern. Two ways to enjoy dining and drinking at the Claremont Hotel. What a coincidence that these happen to be my two favorite post-hike activities.

The Claremont Hotel’s main restaurant, Little Fern, isn’t little, but somehow still feels cozy. Kudos to the interior design team for the homey touches. Built-in bookcases, a fireplace, soft banquettes, an entire wall of windows, and a large bar that has us making friends at first sip.

I order a cocktail that matches the ever-present hot pink geraniums. I’m nothing if not matchy-matchy. Ask anyone. Even my dogs match.

The food is good, although the portions are too large, even for hungry post-hikers like us. My risotto entrée could have fed the city of Milan. By the next night, we decide to share, which is more fun anyway. Perfetto!

The Claremont Hotels’ clubby, chummy Harry’s Bar is the kind of place to snuggle into with a tumbler of bourbon at an antique chessboard. I don’t drink bourbon or play chess, but Harry’s Bar makes me feel like I should. I imagine Harry’s is best visited on nights when the porch is too cold, but that said, I’d be hard-pressed to pass up having a drink there despite the weather.

Swarthy sea captains peer down on us from oil paintings above. I hope Cpt. Jesse doesn’t mind the bar is named after some yahoo named Harry.

A fine balance

I do the math again and get the same outcome. The combo of The Claremont Hotel and a visit to Acadia National Park strikes an ideal balance between luxury and adventure. You need not be an artist, designer, or photographer to appreciate the natural beauty of both. The colors rooted in Acadia and Mount Desert Island are mirrored at the Claremont—gem tones like emeralds, sapphires, and pink tourmaline abound.

A national treasure is defined as ‘something that is greatly valued by the people of a country.’ With its all-encompassing natural beauty, Acadia National Park certainly fits the definition. Combine Acadia National Park with a stay at the Claremont Hotel and they become a treasured pair. “Maine! The way life should be!” Can we agree on that, Barack?

“Yes, we can!”

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June 23, 2022
How To Spend An Unforgettable Weekend In Joshua Tree

There are countless ways to spend a weekend in and around Joshua Tree National Park. Bike, hike, climb, stargaze. Take a sound bath, watch the sunrise, and spot a shooting star. Rent a vintage Airstream or a modern Airbnb. How you spend a weekend in Joshua Tree is personal, and sometimes spiritual. Need some inspiration to plan a weekend in Joshua Tree? You’re in the right place.

Desert sky
Dream beneath the desert sky
The rivers run, but soon run dry
We need new dreams tonight

—In God’s Country, U2

The Joshua Tree, circa 1987

I storm out of the house. A flimsy metal headband secures foam-covered earbuds to my head. Tangled cords attach my head to a fiery yellow Sony Walkman Sport. The color is appropriate, as it matches my blazing teenage angst.

It’s March of 1987 and U2 has just released The Joshua Tree. Without exaggeration, it’s a defining moment in my ego-centric, music-driven teenage life. The album, their 5th, may have catapulted U2 to superstardom, but I’m already in deep. I know every song lyric from War, Boy, Under a Blood Red Sky, and The Unforgettable Fire, by heart.

I’m 17 years old. Ecstatic and furious at the same time. Two sides of the same record.

I haven’t a clue what a Joshua tree is, or where it’s found. Only now, decades later, do I find myself in God’s Country, the very part of the world that inspired these eleven unforgettable songs.

Joshua Tree, A brief history

Joshua Tree National Park is in southeast California, about 50 minutes from Palm Springs, but easily accessed by car from Los Angeles, Las Vegas, or San Diego. It outsizes the state of Rhode Island ever-so-slightly at 795,156 acres.

It’s named after the signature Joshua trees (Yucca brevifolia) that are native to the Mojave Desert. Joshua trees are succulents closely related to the agave plant. If your mind shoots straight to tequila then you and my husband are kindred spirits.

I learn from Wikipedia, that the Joshua tree is a symbol of faith and hope in the midst of aridity. Early Mormon settlers named them after the prophet Joshua, as the branches reminded them of him raising his arms in prayer.

To me, the shape of the Joshua tree looks like my son when I accuse him of devouring the last two pints of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. His arms rise up defensively in disbelief while I point out empty cartons of Americone Dream and The Tonight Dough in the garbage bin.

A pile of rocks and a sea of stars

Among the two best reasons to spend a weekend in Joshua Tree are the rocks and the stars. Some of the park’s oldest rocks are 1.7 billion years old and owe their shape to groundwater that has eroded their hard edges. 1.7 billion years is hard to comprehend, and I imagine this ancient timeline contributes to the spirituality of the area.

Golden boulders look like overlapping mounds of soft, drippy sand kids create on the beach. I climb a pile of these massive rocks. In every direction, I see specks of human life. Some are sitting, eyes wide open, absorbing the vortices of the desert. Others are meditating, eyes closed in contemplation. The serenity of the park is palpable. No wonder it attracts 3 million visitors a year.

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A Weekend in Joshua Tree: Stargazing

Joshua Tree National Park is a stargazing utopia. It’s certified by International Dark Sky Parks as one of the best natural ‘dark sky’ places in the world. The IDSP has been ‘protecting the night from light pollution since 1988’. That’s just one year after The Joshua Tree was released. I wonder if Bono knows about this?

With astrotourism (yes, astrological tourism is a thing) on the rise, the eastern side of the park provides some of the darkest skies in the area. If you want to get closer to the universe, this is the place to do it.

Our Airbnb is located about 15 minutes from the park’s west entrance. The sky at night looks infinite in its lunar starkness. We spend hours flat on our backs to take it in.

I try not to blink. The sky is awash in stars brighter than I’ve ever seen. The Milky Way is showing off. More than once a meteor silently screams across the sky, with a long tail of energy trailing behind. Those who see it shout in delight while the ones who don’t pout and say we’ve made it up. This nightly activity is a highlight of my weekend in Joshua Tree. I’d declare myself starry-eyed if it weren’t such an awful pun.

A Weekend in Joshua Tree: The Park

Joshua Tree is easy to tackle in one day, or in our case, just a few hours. Perhaps lounging around the Airbnb all morning with a cappuccino is not the optimal way to plan a national park day. By the time we finally head out we realize our lunch will be so ill-timed it threatens to spill into dinner. Some of us, me, are already hangry.

Since we blow through the park at breakneck speed, I’ll identify must-see places for future reference. I don’t recall which landmarks we visit that day as I’m so ravenous I can’t see straight. Thankfully the park itself is so tranquil and peaceful, that I’m able to put my hunger aside to enjoy it.

A few highlights follow, in semi-logical order. Don’t blame me if you get lost, I’m not a travel advisor for good reason.

A few highlights

The route starting from the south entrance towards the west entrance could look like this:

Cholla Cactus Garden: A great place to begin, especially for sunrise junkies. The masses of soft and fluffy-looking cacti species are sweetly called Teddybear Cholla, but I wouldn’t attempt to cuddle one.

Arch Rock: At 30 feet across, this natural arch at Joshua Tree doesn’t rival its counterparts at Arches National Park, but it’s still worth a look. Joshua Tree allows visitors to climb the boulders making the park feel like a prehistoric playground.

Skull Rock: A rock shaped like, you guessed it, a skull. Kind of underwhelming. Possibly due to the throng of visitors or the straight-up fact that I’m still really hungry. Skull Rock is located just off the side of the road so it’s easy to do a fly-by if the crowds are overwhelming.

Keys View: For sunset chasers, head to Keys View to catch the late afternoon sun that enhances the colors of the landscape. Rivers of the past are now a dusty mocha brown, and snake between the arid valleys. All in all, it’s nothing short of spectacular.

Author’s Note: In case you’re curious about our lunch crisis (and something tells me you’ve quickly forgotten it) I’ll fill you in. We pull up to Pappy & Harriet’s jam-packed parking lot at 230pm and are told there’s a 45-minute wait. Ugh. Next time, I’m packing a picnic.

A Weekend in Joshua Tree: Beyond the rocks

Joshua Tree National Park’s surrounding areas have much to offer beyond the park itself. Three of the main nearby towns are Joshua Tree, Yucca Valley, and Twentynine Palms. Each lies within a short drive to one of the park’s three entrances (north, south, or west). Each has its own homestead desert vibe, quirky attractions, and accommodation options.

Rock Shops and Crystals

I don’t plan to visit Joshua Tree to get in touch with my spiritual side, but it’s hard to avoid. The area is oozing with opportunities to experience spirituality. Yoga retreats, sound baths, and ancient vortices are just a few ways to recharge and relax.

The Joshua Tree Rock Shop sells gems and crystals that each have their own characteristics and healing properties. Collect a piece of Amber so you can carry around your very own piece of the sun. Or, Angelite to communicate with Spirit Guides. I buy Amethyst for my daughter, to counter negative energy. And Rose Quartz for myself to cope with negative daughters.

Our trip revolves around a friend’s birthday. We are a group of six, three couples, who have known each other for over 15 years. Between us, we fall into the wide array of types that are drawn to this far-flung part of the country—artists, musicians, writers, and yogis, among us. Joshua Tree is a retreat with wide appeal. It’s hard to imagine anyone not finding comfort and peace here.

Wine and Rocks

With organic wines, craft beers, gems, crystals, stones, and good vibes, the Wine and Rock Shop is as eclectic as they come. Walk in and stock up on Tutu’s Tortilla Chips and a bottle of Gearhead Crazy Sexy Cool wine for a post-hike snack. Leave with a Blue Agate Plate to improve concentration. Wait, what did I come in for again? Go ahead and get distracted. It’s all good here.

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A Weekend in Joshua Tree: Getting Spiritual

The Integraton looks like a 50-year-old sci-fi movie set. Located in Landers, CA, about 20 miles north of the park, and built in 1954, this geodesic structure is a well-known sound bath and a historically recognized place for rejuvenation.

While it’s said to be created according to the design direction of extraterrestrials, the Integraton is worth a visit whether you believe in life beyond our planet or not. I’m pretty open-minded, but can’t quite wrap my head around aliens as art director. If nothing else, its Instagram-ability is reason enough to go.

The Integraton is built on a powerful intersection of geomagnetic forces which is thought to amplify the earth’s magnetic field. The 60-minute sound bath experience promotes sonic healing and total relaxation. As you might imagine, it’s highly popular and needs to be booked well in advance.

Is it all bit woo-woo? Yes! But that’s part of why I’m here. I want to get out of my light-polluted city and into a different mental state. I’d like to explore the desert in all of its glory. If that happens to include lying down under a blanket with 40 strangers in a sci-fi movie-esque, alien-engineered, geo-dome that’s miles from civilization, sign me up.

The experience is, umm, different. I wish I could say I felt the powerful forces of the earth’s magnetism beneath me. I wish I felt electrically charged and noticeably changed afterward. Perhaps I’m not evolved enough. Wearing a face mask didn’t help my breathing technique and someone next to me was snoring. I won’t name names. Enrico.

Jokes aside, it’s an intriguing experience I’d like to do again (sans facemasks) someday. The dome is so ET-friendly that I’m afraid it might get sucked up into space before I get a chance to revisit it.

A Weekend in Joshua Tree: Where to stay

Airbnbs are prevalent in Joshua Tree. So much so that the New York Times recently wrote an article begging the question “Is 1,818 Airbnbs Too Many in Joshua Tree?” Our Airbnb, Tierra Del Sol, is so remote we get lost driving the dirt roads back to it at night. To think there are 1,817 others nearby is mind-boggling.

Yet, there’s little doubt the modern desert aesthetic has been rebranded in Joshua Tree, partially due to Instagram and a boom of COVID-induced domestic travel. The ‘Joshua Tree look’ is pretty hard to dislike, especially for those of us on the east coast who don’t live near nude-shaded landscapes with dried botanical gardens and cowhide rugs.

The ‘Joshua Tree look’ can be summed up as boho, high-desert swank sprinkled with bleached-out antlers, hand-woven baskets, rattan poofs, and cowboy hot tubs. That summation is a bit wordy but necessary for accuracy.

Fireplace mantles are oh-so-perfectly staged with stone buddhas, cacti, crystals, and local pottery. Tack on Wolf ranges and Miele built-in coffee machines and you’d think Design Within Reach changed its creative model to Eat-Pray-Love-homestead chic.

Some Airbnbs accessorize their properties with pétanque courts, stand-alone lounges, and windswept, curtain-lined, wedding chapels.

Others boast low eco-footprint, energy-efficient, zero waste accommodations alongside giant gas-lit fire pits.

Others are practically invisible.

PC: The Invisible House

The Invisible House

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the overwhelming, overpublicized, and overpriced Invisible House.

Mirroring nature—and I mean literally mirroring nature, this $4050/night property is set on 90-desert acres. It has, among other amenities, its own 4,000 ft. mountain and 100 ft. indoor pool. It’s a visual feast for those who don’t mind the mountainous price tag.

PC: The Invisible House

The 5500 sq. ft. 22-story horizontal structure sleeps only six, but if you have more guests, fear not. They can stay in the 720 sq. ft. pre-fab ‘escape pod’ somewhere else on the property. Just don’t expect them to still be your friends afterward.

Don’t want to shell out $4050 a night for a weekend at Joshua Tree’s Invisible House? No worries, it can be all yours for the bargain price of $1,750 an hour. Instagram it and get out.

Desert Vintage circa 1975

Airstreams in Joshua Tree are all the rage, not to mention a way to get up close and personal with the desert. The features that accompany some of these vintage trailers are as unusual as the surroundings themselves.

PC: Airbnb

Some Airstreams have swinging queen sized-beds for stargazing. Others have metal barrel hot tubs, outdoor living spaces, and raised wooden decks adorned with twinkling fairy lights. Really? Who needs the fairy lights when you have the starry skies above?

A Weekend in Joshua Tree: Where to eat

The beauty of an Airbnb stay is the ability to cook your own meals. It’s simultaneously a downfall for those who go on vacation to not cook. As always, balance wins. We decide to eat a few lunches out but have breakfasts and dinners in. This turns out to be a hidden blessing as there’s no way we’d be able to find the house at night anyway. This is an International Dark Sky Zone, mind you.

One night a local chef creates a feast for the birthday girl’s dinner, while other nights we grill, sit by the fire pit, and stargaze with a bottle of wine.

For those seeking ultra-fine dining, the desert is not the place for you. Most restaurants are casual and informal.

Worth a mention

La Copine: This 42-seat highway-side, uber-casual eatery attracts foodies for miles. And for good reason. Said to have the best fried chicken in the desert (am I the only one wondering where the chickens live in the desert?) the menu tackles items like artichoke toast, Spanish crispy rice, and duck confit among other culinary delights. Eclectic indeed, and highly sought after.

Pappy & Harriett’s: Go early or don’t go, in my humble opinion. But if you’re as hungry as I am when you arrive, everything will taste as if it’s prepared by a Michelin-starred chef.

A convivial hangout if there ever was one, Pappy’s is the place to listen to live music, dance, and throw back a pint of beer along with some baby back ribs. If you have to wait for a table—AND YOU WILL—you can pass the time in Pioneertown, conveniently located a short walk behind the restaurant.

Pioneertown is as cheesy as it sounds. Built as an old western movie set in the 40s, it has all of the expected kitsch from the General Store, Red Dog Saloon, and fancy soap goats. Ok, maybe that part is not expected. What’s a soap goat? Maybe you can find out. You’ll have lots of time to kill.

The Natural Sisters Cafe: The website reads “Food made with kindness, focus and love.” Who can argue with that philosophy? Known for vegetarian and plant-based wraps, sandwiches, and smoothies, this local eatery caters to the breakfast and lunch crowd. Located close to the Joshua Tree entrance, it’s an especially good spot to hit before you head into the park.

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Outside it’s America

On the last morning of our short weekend in Joshua Tree, I wake up before sunrise. On purpose. This is unusual for me. I value sleep more than just about anything, except perhaps wine and coffee.

I sneak outside just as the first rays are rising over the distant mountains, some of which are still snow-capped in March. The mountain range silhouette is razor-sharp on this unusually cold morning. I race back inside to grab a blanket (in shades of desert neutrals, naturally) wooly hat, and fuzzy birks. Desert cold is no joke.

It’s worth the early hour and cold feet. The scene illustrates why an Irish band would pay homage to the open spaces of America. I summon up the theatrical and melodic notes of Where The Streets Have No Name—the first song on the album. I stand still.

It’s written in the Stars

As I write, the haunting harmony of The Joshua Tree envelops me—this time tangle-free on my wireless AirPods and iPhone 13. The music is as ethereal and transporting as it was then. But now I listen to it through the framework of Joshua Tree—the place.

What connected me to the music back then is realized decades later on the deck of this gorgeous desert house. The soundtrack of my teenage life comes back with a roar. Milky blue desert skies and cracked riverbeds are lyrical elements of U2’s best-selling album. They define the music and this vast landscape, but also a state of mind. I vow to see the park again one day to spend more time absorbing it.

When I do, I’ll make sure I eat first.

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May 23, 2022
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

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