BELIZE: “A Photo Blog of Two Cayes & A Mayan Ruin”

Thailand, Norway, Brazil, Iceland…the travel section of my Bucket List is as eclectic as, well, me. And, it’s long. So why would I ever go back to the same place twice…let alone three, four, or more times? I abandoned this travel philosophy in 2006, after wandering to a tiny Central American country with a split personality (read about this wander in “The Rainforest & The Reef”). I’m writing this just a few weeks after returning from my fourth visit to Belize. And, my plan is to return every other year for the remainder of my traveling life.

Back in 2006, my guard compromised by beauty (and a couple piña colada), I fell for the puppy lure strategically placed on San Pedro’s main beach. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in front of a fast talking gay Irish man and signing on the dotted line of a timeshare contract. Today I’m happy to say I have yet to suffer from buyer’s remorse and I’m fairly certain I’m well past the point of infection. In fact, I count the days in between my bi-annual visits to Captain Morgen’s Resort in Ambergris Caye.

One of Belize’s personalities is lush rain forest filled with exotic wildlife, crumbling Mayan ruins, rivers sneaking through caves, and Mennonite farms. The other has glowing turquoise reefs, quiet resorts and rainbow colored houses, tangled mangroves, sun-bathing black iguanas, and pristine white sand beaches. The former calls for bug spray, binoculars and 20/20 “rainforest eyes,” the latter for snorkeling gear, a stack of reading material and a thirst for tropical drinks. It’s really un-Belizable (sorry…couldn’t stop myself) that both of these personalities thrive in just 8,867 square miles!

Formerly known as British Honduras until given its independence in 1981, Belize’s official language is English. The people are as vibrant as the surroundings…a mix of native Mayans, Latin Americans from neighboring countries, the Creole descendants of African slaves, Mennonite and Amish farmers, Anglos, and countless exotic blends of all of the above.

My stomping grounds are primarily San Pedro, Ambergris Caye and Caye Caulker. Getting to the cayes is not for the faint of heart. Don’t be fooled that you’ve arrived when you touch ground at Phillip Goldson International Airport in Belize City. You’re only part way there. Both options for the next leg require an adventurous spirit…either 20 minutes in the air in a vintage plane the size of a New York cab or a 1-1/2 hour ride in a boat crammed far beyond capacity. Now you’re in San Pedro. Ambergris Caye and Caye Caulker require one more boat and 10 to 30 more minutes.

Ahhhhh, but once you’re there, the real world is shoved aside by the dramatic scenery, water that beckons you to come for a swim, strategically placed hammocks and accommodating bartenders.


Maya Island Air Belize San Pedro

Maya Island Air is one way to get from Phillip Goldson Int’l Airport to San Pedro

Maya Island Air San Pedro Airport

The Maya Island Air terminal at San Pedro Municipal Airport

Baggage claim at San Pedro Municipal Airport

Baggage claim at San Pedro Municipal Airport

Getting to Ambergris Caye Captain Morgan's resort Belize

The last of three legs…almost to Ambergris Caye

Captain Morgan's Resort Belize timeshare

The timeshare units at Captain Morgan’s Resort on Ambergris Caye

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Excuse me, but something is seriously missing here…

homemade cashews Ambergris Caye Belize

My preferred purchase from the beach hawkers…home roasted cashews.

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Wet Willy's San Pedro Belize

One of several bars in San Pedro

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Day trip to colorful Caye Caulker

Colorful Caye Caulker…the budget island

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Caye Caulker's movie theater

Caye Caulker’s movie theater

Sand Bar at The Split Caye Calker Belize

Sand Bar on The Split in Caye Caulker

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nurse sharks snorkeling Belize

Snorkeling with nurse sharks

Altun Ha Mayan ruins Belize

Altun Ha Mayan ruins

Altun Ha Mayan ruins Belize

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YOSEMITE: “A Photo Blog of Autumn”

Half Dome…colorful…falling leaves…El Capitan…ice crystals twinkling in the sun…towering trees…reflections…Ahwahnee Hotel…stone bridges

El Capitan, Yosemite

The heart of El Capitan, Yosemite

Look closely for “The Heart of El Capitan”

Half Dome, Yosemite in Fall

Fall/Autumn in Yosemite

Ahwahnee Hotel bridge

Ahwahnee Hotel, Yosemite

Yosemite Village

Yosemite Village

Yosemite

Yosemite

Half Dome, Yosemite

Yosemite church

El Capitan, Yosemite

El Capitan reflected in a small pond

Yosemite in Fall

Yosemite

Yosemite

Yosemite

El Capitan, Yosemite

El Capitan, Yosemite

El Capitan…reflected.

El Capitan, Yosemite

Yosemite

Yosemite Village

STOP…and smell the fall.

VIRGINIA: “Climatic Respite in Virginia Beach”

In the summer of 2011, I convinced my almost 13-year old daughter to embark on a 50-day road trip adventure in search of adventure, fun, and coming-of-age wisdom from fellow women. We started in San Diego and cruised the highways and byways around the perimeter of our country until Day 45, when she ran out of gas in Seattle. This is the story of one of our stops. To get her to agree to leave her “homies” for an eternity, I had no choice but to agree to her terms…I must abide by the “No Learning in Summer” rule. I agreed…with my fingers crossed behind my back.


Angie's Cottage Virginia Beach

Angie’s Cottage by the beach

We left Savannah hoping that the East Coast would offer us some respite from the suffocating summertime humidity of the south. On the morning of Day 12 of our road trip, we fell effortlessly into our departure routine…dragging ourselves out of bed at 6 a.m. (okay, more like 6:00-ish), putting on our faces and clothes as fast as we could, lugging our bags down various degrees of stairs and cramming them into the back of the Mini Cooper, leaving promptly at 7:00-ish, then pulling into the drive-through of the nearest McDonald’s for some fuel. As we stared at a colorful drive-up menu at a McDonald’s just outside of Savannah, my daughter said with wonder…”Wow. They make the food look sooooo real.”

Virginia Beach was home to a Hostelling International hostel sparing me some pre-trip accommodation reconnaissance. But, I was nervous about Angie’s Guest Cottage. I live in a beach town and there are parts of it that can manage to devour my overabundance of tolerance. One part is the beachfront hostel I had just strolled past a month earlier…a dilapidated cottage with a steadily trickling stream of inebriated 20-somethings flowing out the front door (or leaking out the windows). But, I held tight to my faith in Hostelling International…and, I’m pleased to report that they stayed true to their mission of providing reputable (and sober) hostels for people of all ages. After I scrambled to find a functioning ATM so I could hand over the $40 cash key deposit, co-owner Ron took us on a tour. Granted we are still very much hostel rookies, but this place made both my anti-hostel daughter and my generally pro-hostel self break out in smiles. It was secure, clean, quaint, and clearly very much a source of pride for Ron. Our room was perfect…a double bed (for me), a futon (for the teen) and a tiny bathroom, kitchenette, and air conditioner (for both of us). Oh, and did I mention that the beach was practically across the street?

Virginia BeachSince most of Day 12 was spent on the interstate, we only had a little time to explore before the sun went down. Hmmm…things were looking awfully familiar. An expansive beach peppered with umbrellas and bodies on one side…stores, restaurants and hotels on the other…and, intermittent ear-piercing navy jets above. My daughter had even made last-minute plans to get together with a friend whose dad had just transferred here from our home town. But if I looked deeper, it turned into an alternate kind of universe…we were definitely in the South Park version of our little California beach town. While at home we see lots of beautiful blond-haired blue-eyed children selling lemonade on the street corner…here we watched a street performer hammer an eight inch nail up his nose. At home we see designer boutiques and art galleries lining the main street…here we saw hermit crabs for sale or a temporary tattoo hawker every tenth foot.

Virginia BeachWe filled our one day in Virginia Beach to capacity. Lucky we had become adept at getting up and out the door quickly, because the paddle board tour guide from Tula Sports returned my previous day’s phone call at 10 a.m. letting us know he had space for us on his 11 a.m. tour. We jumped, we dressed, we brushed, we ate, we drove…and, had five minutes to spare. Phew!

We would be paddling on the calm waters (yay!) of Broad Bay and Long Creek in First Landing State Park. Of course, I had to bring my gift of “Wow…the weather has never been quite like this before. Like ever.” On this unusual day, a wind gave us a serious workout. Fortunately, it only impacted our relatively short time on the bay and not the leisurely time on the creek…and, it in no way impacted our ability to soak up the beauty surrounding us in all directions. Beneath us were tons of billowy white jellyfish, above us the sun shown in a crystal clear sky, encircling us was either natural parkland or sprawling waterfront estate homes. Birds of various shapes and sizes alighted from a shore decorated with crushed clam shells brought in as natural water filters. Before we knew it, it was time to paddle back to the bay. Thank God our tour guide gave us a tip…a sitting body resists wind far less than a standing one. Say no more! We paddled back on our knees.

After a fried green tomato sandwich and a shrimp pizza (sans shrimp) for lunch, we roasted ourselves on the beach. Although not as sweltering as the south, I still found myself fantasizing about the familiar sweater-inducing ocean breeze of home. I lived vicariously through my girl as she cooled on her runs down the giant inflatable slide on the edge of the sand. When my imagination was over-extended, we walked the half block back to our cute little air-conditioned room.

Sunset in Virginia Beach

Our gift on our first evening in town…

Here’s what my girl had to say about Virginia Beach…

“Normal weather at last! Virginia Beach is where we finally had a chance to cool off and relax. Nothing was rushed and it was pretty easy going. I was not so excited about staying in another hostel, but this one was surprisingly nice. We had our own bathroom, kitchen, AND a TV in our cute little cottage. We didn’t have much time the day we arrived so we just took a short walk along the boardwalk and wandered through some shops.

The next day I was jolted awake and told that we were going paddle boarding on the bay. I slipped on my bathing suit and ran to the car hoping we would make it in time. We did and quickly headed out to the water with our boards. It was a nice little paddle…but, hard at times when the wind kicked up. By the end, I was pooped and starved. After a nice lunch, we decided to relax for a while so we grabbed our beach towels and the hostel’s umbrella and walked a half block to the beach. We laid out our towels and planted the umbrella…the umbrella didn’t last long in the blowing wind. After sitting for awhile in the baking sun, I had to find some way to cool off. I found it! I asked my mom for three dollars so I could slide down a four story inflatable water slide. Very refreshing! We only lasted an hour-and-a-half at the beach because the sun was cooking us like bacon. The rest of the day wasn’t too exciting…I took a nap, watched TV, had dinner, and fell asleep again. The next day called for a new adventure…”

GERMANY: “Munich’s DTM Auto Races May Just Cause Me Some Trouble”

DTM car races MunichI’m no longer a car race virgin. And, I may be in trouble. I have a feeling that like so many other experiences in my life, no race will ever quite live up to my first at Munich’s Olympianstadion on July 14, 2012.

Germany’s DTM races (formerly “Deutsch Tourenwagon Meisterschaft”, now “German Touringwagon Masters”) were born in 1984, and thrived until 1996, when high costs brought the event to a screeching halt. Thankfully the event organizers didn’t give up. In the debate over new rules for the anticipated restart in 2000, The focus of former participants was all over the place; Opel fought to control costs, BMW sought to expand the race out of Germany, Audi pushed for their quattro four-wheel drive to competE, and Mercedes wanted to spare no expense in the competitive development phase. At the end of the testosterone-infused clash, it was decided that the race would stay primarily in Germany (with occasional rounds throughout Europe) and would allow only (relatively) affordable RWD concept cars with 4.0 L V8 engines and no more than 470 hp engines to compete on two 100-meter tracks. BMW and Audi chose not to re-enter. Audi returned in 2004. Cost-cutting forced Opel out in 2005. From 2008 to 2010, only Audi and Mercedes competed. This year was the first BMW raced again.

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

Munich’s Olympiastadion was built for the 1972 Summer Olympics and designed to imitate the Alps

The DTM I was fortunate enough to attend (thanks to a special surprise from my now ex-boyfriend) was an extremely visible (and palpably fierce) competition between Audi, Mercedes, and BMW. A total of 24 drivers were competing including Ralf Schumacher (younger brother of world-champion Michael Schumacher), Joey Hand (USA), and last year’s winner Martin Tomczyk (German). To keep it extra stimulating, the crowd was treated to occasional bouts of stunt driving by Terry Grant, a mid-race teaser “concert” by Stereolove (who I learned is a descendant of one of my favorite  German bands, Reamonn), trick motorbike riding by Red Bull’s X Fighters, and legitimately cool vendor booths to tempt even the most uninterested of car consumers (ummm, that would be me).

This year’s winners on Race Day #1 (Saturday, July 14, 2012) -

1st Place: Mercedes-Benz Team #1 (Schumacher/Green)
2nd Place: Audi Team #2 (Scheider/Tambay)
3rd Place: Mercedes-Benz Team #2 (Paffett/Vietoris)

Being a California girl with a second German life, I am learning not to take good weather for granted. Today I took several moments to thank the German weather Gods for just enough clouds to stave off the pounding sun and just enough sun to stave off the typical summer thunderstorm.

If you’re visiting Munich next summer, take it from a estrogen-laden former car race virgin…the DTM races shouldn’t be missed!

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

Thank you, German weather Gods

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

Stunt driver Terry Grant burns some serious rubber

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

This year’s 24 competitors are introduced

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

One of two women racers – 29 year old Susie Wolff from Great Britain

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion Timo Scheider

Timo Scheider (Germany)…I think

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

A short “concert” by Stereolove

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

A motor bike show by the Red Bull X Fighters

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

Hard to see, but there’s an upside down motorbike in mid-air!

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

The new A-series by Mercedes

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

The End!

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

1st Place – Mercedes Benz Team #1 (Schumacher/Green)…2nd Place – Audi Team #2 (Scheider/Tambay)…3rd Place – Mercedes Benz Team #2 (Paffett/Vietoris)

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion Ralf Schumacher

Ralf Schumacher

DTM car races in Munich Olympiastadion

Hoping for an autograph from Ralf

LOUISIANA: “Smokin’ Hot in New Orleans”

In the summer of 2011, I convinced my almost 13-year old daughter to embark on a 50-day road trip adventure in search of adventure, fun, and coming-of-age wisdom from fellow women. We started in San Diego and cruised the highways and byways around the perimeter of our country until Day 45, when she ran out of gas in Seattle. This is the story of one of our stops. To get her to agree to leave her “homies” for an eternity, I had no choice but to agree to her terms…I must abide by the “No Learning in Summer” rule. I agreed…with my fingers crossed behind my back.


Royal Barracks Guesthouse French Quarter New Orleans

Royal Barracks Guesthouse

So many things about New Orléans were “hot”…the temperature, the vibe, our swamp tour guide. Despite the panting, my pre-teen daughter and I agreed it was a highlight of our trip so far.

I have three “rules” when it comes to booking accommodations:

…No corporate chains (if I can help it)

…Must be unique in some way (I’ll stretch this to super friendly, if necessary)

…Wallet friendly

Finding just the right place to stay in the French Quarter had been a challenge. One doesn’t have to look hard to find independent and unique. And, thanks to summer’s sweltering temps and stifling humidity, there were abundant deals to be had. The challenge was to find a place in a good location that didn’t overdose us with quirk. After a lengthy search, I decided upon Royal Barracks Guesthouse on the quieter side of the French Quarter.

French Quarter New Orleans Lalaurie mansion

The very disturbing Lalaurie mansion

Born and raised in New Orléans, the manager (Kelly) takes Southern hospitality to heart. By the time we pulled up to the front door, I had received no less than four phone calls (peppered with “sweethearts” and “dahlins’”) and I felt like she was already a comfortable acquaintance. When we (literally) burst through a pair of (probably original) French doors into our room, we were hit with a blast of gloriously cool air. As our eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness, we liked what we saw…massive bunk beds to our right, a half-barrel bathroom sink to our left, and French Quarter charm in every corner. Kelly shared the history of the guesthouse with us…

Constructed in the 1850′s, it is an example of a “Double Shotgun House”…an early style of duplex with a shared central wall and all rooms on both sides in a row from front to back. There are no hallways. There’s a longstanding theory that this house style is rooted in African and Haitian culture, which is consistent with its use for lower or middle class housing. The next day as I sipped beer with Kelly on the front stoop, I was informed that the place even came equipped with a ghost…a friendly “green” spirit who was known to regularly switch off all things electric. A treasure for just $79/night.

Swamp New OrleansWe hit New Orléans hard and fast. In the interest of sanity, I planned all mother-daughter activities in the cooler evening hours or the not-yet-sweltering mornings. Since we only had two evenings, we went in search of spooks shortly after we unloaded our bags. Emily with French Quarter Phantoms enthusiastically shared the grizzly details of torture, murders, and hauntings in the French Quarter. Much to my girl’s dismay, horrific crimes occurred in a mansion a mere two blocks from our guesthouse.

The Lalaurie Mansion is considered the most haunted place in the French Quarter…a result of the gruesome experiments conducted by socialites Dr. Louis and Delphine Lalaurie on their slaves in the mid-1800s. People were horrified then…and, now.

The next morning we left haunted mansions and tormented spirits behind and headed for lush swamps and hungry gators. Cajun Encounters runs like a well-oiled machine. Not being one to follow the herd, I was a bit perturbed to encounter a crammed parking lot and a line out the door. This time being the last in line actually worked in our favor. Ours ended up being the smallest (and most hilarious) group and our tour guide was none other than Mr. June from the 2011 Baton Rouge Fire Department calendar. My pre-teen was beaming (again) despite the moisture emerging from her every pore.

swamp crocodile alligator new orleansAs our boat slowly cruised through the swamps, gators of all ages snacked on marshmallows and hot dogs. If it weren’t for the stifling temperature (“We REALLY need a wind going through here,” proclaimed my insightful pre-teen.), I would have bet the price of admission that there would be a pirate sitting atop a cannon swigging from a whiskey bottle around the next bend. As soon as my girl could speak again, she uttered words that rocked my mommy soul…“See, Mom…you were just traumatized when you were younger. Rednecks these days are smokin’ hot.”

I refused to be defeated by the oppressive heat, so while my girl “chilled” back in the room, I set out to do some (peaceful) wandering.

I managed to check off almost all my boxes…

  • Converse with a Druid voodoo priest
  • Witness the perpetual party that is Bourbon Street (at 2 p.m.)
  • Eat crayfish and fried green tomatoes
  • Stroll through Jackson Park
  • Try a beignet from Café du Monde
French Quarter New Orleans Jackson Park

Jackson Park

After every ounce of moisture migrated from my interior to my exterior, I returned to the room to motivate my girl for our last outing. We couldn’t leave New Orléans without seeing the Garden District…or, Lafayette Cemetery for that matter. I hoped to overcome her reluctance to peel herself off of the air conditioner with the lure of some pristine Southern mansions and a creepy burial ground. One of the reasons I am passionate about travel is its ability to bring massive doses of reality to one’s expectations.

“Pristine” is definitely not the word I would now choose to describe the Garden District. We drove (our air-conditioned car) by a thoroughly eclectic mix of Southern homes, some restored but most struggling to hold themselves together. Instead of manicured gardens, the landscaping was lush and wild. Reality was so much more delightful. Our only disappointment was the padlock on the cemetery gate. I couldn’t pick a better place than the Garden District to check off my last box…taste some authentic sweet tea. Okay, “sweet” is definitely an understatement. I now consider mine a baby sweet tooth.

My girl agreed that New Orléans was extra special…

“New Orléans is definitely a unique city…especially the French Quarter. Everything was so old and held so much history! The inn we stayed at looked very old. As my mom would say…our little room had personality. It had small French-style doors, a big bunk bed, a barrel-shaped sink, and the tiniest shower. The day we arrived we decided to go on a ghost tour of the French Quarter. It was very interesting to hear our tour guide talk about vampires, pirates, and spirits! The next morning we went on another tour…this time of a Louisiana swamp. We saw about seven or eight alligators and a nice close up of the swamp. Thank God we had a cute tour guide, because if we didn’t I would have been quite upset with my mom. It wasn’t too hot out, but the humidity got the best of me. Besides the weather, New Orleans was a beautiful city and I want to come back here some day. But, maybe in the spring…”

TEXAS: “Austin City Limits”

Hostelling Internation Austin Texas

Hostelling International – Austin

In the summer of 2011, I convinced my almost 13-year old daughter to embark on a 50-day road trip adventure in search of adventure, fun, and coming-of-age wisdom from fellow women. We started in San Diego and cruised the highways and byways around the perimeter of our country until Day 45, when she ran out of gas in Seattle. This is the story of one of our stops. To get her to agree to leave her “homies” for an eternity, I had no choice but to agree to her terms…I must abide by the “No Learning in Summer” rule. I agreed…with my fingers crossed behind my back.


It’s either the power of suggestion or things really are bigger in Texas. On Day 4 of our 50 day mother-daughter road trip, my pre-teen girl and I were especially appreciating the Texas-sized speed limit. At 85 miles per hour, we were able to shave almost two hours off of Google’s 11 hour estimated drive time from Las Cruces (New Mexico) to Austin. Other than the blip of fascination offered by a peek into Jaurez when driving through El Paso…and several billboards warning of Rapture (”Just so you know, Mom…we’ll be dying in Georgia on Judgment Day.”), it was a virtually sightless drive.

Despite the boredom, this was a momentous day. Both of us would be experiencing a hostel for the first time…said pre-teen begrudgingly, myself with a wanderer’s  curiosity. Her apprehension peaked as we pulled into the dirt driveway after dark and parked in front of a spartan brick structure that was Hostelling International-Austin. As the car door slammed, her canine sense of smell kicked in…

”Now why in the heck does it smell like kangaroos out here???”

Austin Texas Congress Street

“SoCo” – South Congress Avenue

I reminded her (again) that we had a private room…she reminded me (again) that nothing made up for the fact that we had to share a probably contaminated bathroom with possibly hygienically-challenged college guys. As we tiptoed through the dorm-style room toward the door of our private room (a courtesy we would not see reciprocated in our two nights here), I was transported back to my college days. We slowly opened the door…me sighing in relief that it was a clean and functional room, her inquiring why the bed wasn’t made.

After cooking and eating breakfast the following morning, my obstinate girl plopped herself down on the bed and informed me that she would not be coming out of the room unless we were heading for the front door. Despite my best efforts over the last decade, I’ve been unable to break her inherent royal nature. In her defense, some of “Those Outside The Door” were a bit “colorful”…like the two rambunctious toilet seat-challenged Aussies who shared our bathroom, or the denture-less gentleman who repeatedly requested help with his new iPad, or the guy who cradled the house kitten while lamenting about unrequited love, or the man who covered his eyes (but not his stomach) and lay snoring on the communal couch. I have a deep appreciation of all the colors of the human rainbow, but my slightly sheltered pre-teen preferred life in black and white. My only disappointment was the lack of colorful conversation because nearly everyone was plugged in to some form of iGadget…even the forgetful elderly man.

Food trucks Austin Texas

One of Austin’s food trucks

To add to my pre-teen’s Texas-sized joy, Austin was sweltering. Almost immediately upon re-slamming the car door, her face began to glimmer as sweat oozed out of every pore. I assured her that our shopping excursion on South Congress Avenue would give her plenty of respite from the heat. Nicknamed SoCo, South Congress is lined with an eclectic mix of indie boutiques and funky thrift stores like Uncommon Objects, Allens Boots (wow), New Bohemia, and our personal favorite Monkey See Monkey Do. Regardless of inventory, we entered every (air-conditioned) store. By the time we crossed the street to check out some of Austin’s famous food trucks, gravity had kicked in and the sheen was now trickling toward the sidewalk.

To combat crappy college town food and the prohibitive cost of opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant, Austin’s mobile food trucks were born. After Bon Appetit featured two trucks in an Austin travel story in 2010, the trend began to sizzle. Today you can find single and double-wide trucks and trailers all around town…in parking lots, tucked in residential neighborhoods, and, of course, lining one side of South Congress. Hundreds of vendors serve up a variety of delicacies including, but far from limited to, cupcakes, BBQ, donuts, coffee and tea…and, soft-boiled duck eggs. If it wasn’t so blasted hot, I would have tasted every gourmet treat. My lovely daughter “requested” Hawaiian shave ice…now.

Bats under Congress Bridge Austin Texas

Congress Bridge

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I insisted on walking two blocks to snap a picture of another one of SoCo’s works of graffiti art. Halfway through the second block, I came face-to-spinning-face with Linda Blair. I began to panic…we had 16 cities to go, I was hearing “heat wave” almost every time I turned on the radio, and every mile drove us deeper into summer and higher into humidity. There was no avoiding a mother-daughter boundary-setting showdown. After several minutes of spewing, our lines drawn and accepted. For the next 46 days, she would be respectful and I would give her the option of remaining in the room if temperatures reached the triple digits.

Time and a kayak excursion with Live Love Paddle cooled us down. We were paddling toward the bats hiding under Congress Street Bridge. I knew the demon had been fully exorcised when my girl looked at me and said (respectfully)…

Bats under Congress Bridge Austin Texas”Do I really have to wear a life jacket? Because it really doesn’t match my outfit. Bright orange and pink…really, Mom???” (Ahhh…there’s my girl.)

Our aquatic adventure was the ideal blend of independence and gentle guidance. I sat back and enjoyed my formerly cautious little girl taking the lead and paddling me all around Lake Austin until it was time to follow the paid leader to the best seat on the water to watch 1,000,000+ Mexican short-tailed bats launch into flight. Right on schedule a wave of black began pouring out of the bridge and we watched with dropped jaws as they transformed themselves into a massive tubular formation and rushed toward dinner.

Austin’s fiery heat broke Sophie in more ways than one. Back at the hostel, I watched in stunned silence as she grabbed her bathroom bag, sweats, and pre-owned towel, and plodded toward the shower. When she returned, she seemed relieved…

”OK…I touched as little as possible so I won’t have fungus on my feet like Dad.”

Just 40 hours after arriving in Austin, we were repacking and heading to our next destination: New Orleans, Louisiana. In the end, I was quite satisfied to hear my slightly-less-royal utter these parting words…

“OK, this place isn’t thaaaaaat bad. Maybe I’ll like hostels when I’m in high school…or college.”

Here’s Austin from a pre-teen’s perspective…

I love you graffiti Austin Texas Congress Street“Austin was not what I expected at all. I thought it was going to be a redneck town, not a large city. But Texas proved me wrong. The hostel we stayed in wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. First, to get to our room we had to walk though a room with two sets of bunk beds. Second, there are some strange people that stay in hostels…one guest was having a conversation with a cat! Even though the hostel had air conditioning, I think I would have been more comfortable in a tent.

The day after we arrived, my mom wanted to go check out Congress Street. We went in and out of stores so we would cool off every once and a while. When there were no more stores to go into, I began to slowly melt…and, the heat can (and did) bring out my ugly side. We didn’t stay for much longer.

Downtown Austin Texas skylineThe next thing on our to-do list was to paddle a kayak in a lake to watch bats fly out from underneath a bridge. This was my kind of tour…we weren’t instructed very much and being out on the water at dusk cooled me down. After about 45 minutes paddling around, the bats started to swarm out by the thousands. It took about 30 to 45 minutes for each and every bat to come out from under that bridge. This was definitely the highlight of the trip so far! But, its only been five days and I hope there are more adventures to come.”

NEW MEXICO: “Finding Las Cruces”

In the summer of 2011, I convinced my almost 13-year old daughter to embark on a 50-day road trip adventure in search of adventure, fun, and coming-of-age wisdom from fellow women. We started in San Diego and cruised the highways and byways around the perimeter of our country until Day 45, when she ran out of gas in Seattle. This is the story of one of our stops. To get her to agree to leave her “homies” for an eternity, I had no choice but to agree to her terms…I must abide by the “No Learning in Summer” rule. I agreed…with my fingers crossed behind my back.


As my pre-teen girl and I cruised east on Interstate 10 on Day 2 of our 50-day ’round-the-US road trip, I mumbled to myself…”I wonder if we’ll know when we’ve left Arizona and entered New Mexico?”

Hilltop Hacienda Las Cruces New Mexico

Hilltop Hacienda

Said pre-teen chimed in…“Ummmm, ye-ah. We’ll know because the signs will be in Mexican, Mom. Duh.” When I laughed so hard I snorted, she giggled…“I mean Spanish!”

When I explained to her (yet again) that “New” Mexico is one of the 50 states in our very own English-speaking country, she huffed…

”They really need to change the name…some people don’t like Mexico and it’s just plain confusing.”

Ahhh…education. Does it really happen inside the thousands of buildings they call schools? Or are they just well stocked with good intentions, hormones, and teflon-coated brains? My theory is that the kind of education that sticks is born of experiences. I can tell you this…after today’s experience, I doubt Sophie will ever refuse to take a shower again in “New” Mexico because the water isn’t safe.

Six hours after leaving Phoenix, we found Las Cruces. Hmmm…we found it a bit “attractively challenged”. (Remember…we’re San Diegans. We’re “attractively spoiled”.) Now I understand why it had been so difficult to find a place to stay without violating one my three Booking Rules (1. NO to corporate chains; 2. Must be unique in some obvious or obscure way; 3. Friendly to my wallet).

La Posta Old Mesilla New Mexico

La Posta restaurant, Old Mesilla

The economy had hit this area hard forcing most of the non-chain inns to quietly close their doors. After dead silence in response to nearly every email or phone call in search of local accommodations, I finally found our place. Perched atop a hill at the end of a long mostly dirt road that brought forth visions of antique washboards, Hilltop Hacienda was removed from Las Cruces’ most “challenged” areas. This middle-aged brick hacienda had sweeping views of pastel-hued mountains and lovingly tended, although temporarily frost damaged, grounds. Our hosts, Bob and Teddi, gave us free reign over our own comfortable bedroom and several common areas including a TV-endowed living room, a tiny Southwestern dining room, a functional 1970′s kitchen, a private big-enough-for-the-both-of-us bathroom, and various outside nooks and crannies to sit and observe resident critters scurry or swoop or soak up a New Mexico sunset.

Breakfast was a treat…served on a patio under a tree surrounded by mountains. German “Dutch Babies” smothered in fresh berries and bacon filled our plates. We bonded with our inn-mates, Troy and Dyan from Pennsylvania. Avid hikers, I inwardly giggled as I watched my hike-hating daughter’s stunned face as Troy became animated while sharing their plans for the 100+ degree day…an all-day hike and something called “trail running”. It felt like we were reuniting with cousins at Grandma and Grandpa’s…and, we weren’t going anywhere until we cleaned our plates. I’ve never seen Sophie eat so much. I tried…and, failed. Grandma wasn’t happy.

After everyone had left the table, Miss Pre-Teen turned to me and said…“When I’m dating, the first question I’m going to ask is ‘Do you like to hike?’”

White Sands National Monument Las Cruces New MexicoThe itinerary for our one full day here included a visit to historic Old Mesilla during the hottest part of the day (did I mention that it was one degree short of sweltering here?) and White Sands National Monument when we could play without melting, watch the sun sink behind the dunes, and the moon begin to beam.

I began to worry when I parked the car in town, and perturbed when the store clerk assured me that we were smack in the heart of it. Let’s just say Old Mesilla took the whole ghost town thing to heart. Where was everyone??? Definitely not spending money on the gobs of tourist trinkets being peddled here. Yet another sign of the economic doldrums.

I’m not sure why, but I was optimistic about lunch at La Posta, a quaint Mexican café that sits on the town plaza. The toucan in the lobby was a nice touch…but, the beef jerky inside the tamales and the water in the salad were not. It was too hot to search harder for charm in this deserted town, so we opted for a siesta back at the hacienda before our expedition to the white sands. On the way back, we stopped in at Walgreens for supplies, the two most important being a jumbo refillable water bottle and a can of WD-40. I felt like a grandmother as I cringed at the price tag for the only water bottle in the store…in my day, $10 would buy you a full set of Tupperware (and water was free)! But, the idea of being the next dehydrated tourist featured on the evening news was enough motivation to get me to the register.

White Sands National Monument Las Cruces New MexicoI believe there are certain life experiences that occur with the “soul” purpose of keeping one humble…and, soon after leaving Walgreens, I found myself smack in the middle of one designed specifically for me. As Miss Pre-Teen re-applied her makeup and curled her hair in preparation for our time on the sand, I ventured into the kitchen to fill our new water bottle. In my defense, today’s water bottles are nothing short of engineering wonders, so I thought it best to test it before we left civilization. I tilted my head back and began to swig. What the heck??? Water dribbled everywhere…with the exception of into my mouth. I wiped the water out of my eyes and tried again. I was flabbergasted. I dissembled and reassembled ensuring everything was water tight before my next attempt. With mascara running down my face, I marched to the bathroom, slammed the bottle down on the counter, started practicing my self-righteous speech to the Walgreens manager, and commenced facial repair. Sophie turned to me and inquired as to my problem.

“I just threw away $10 on a defective water bottle…and, I will go get my money back! Hurry it up…we’re stopping off at Walgreens on the way to the sand.”

As Sophie picked up the bottle, I stopped to enjoy the show. She brought the bottle over to her mouth, sucked, and swallowed.

“What are you talking about, Mom? It’s totally fine.”

Oh. My. God. I used to believe I was intelligent. After Sophie and I picked ourselves off the floor and dried our tears, I thanked her for saving me from the dubious honor of being Walgreen’s “Customer of the Year”.

White Sands National Monument Las Cruces New MexicoI’m certain that my words will fail to do justice to the breath-stealing beauty of White Sands National Monument. Dramatic…mind boggling…and, so much fun. The only reason we knew we were not romping in snow is…well, snow wouldn’t have lasted in this scorching heat for more than a millisecond. Fortunately, as the clock ticked on, the temperature slowly dropped to pleasant. Thanks to my pre-trip research, I knew not to come to White Sands without a saucer in hand…we had some dune sliding to do. Thanks to our “grandparents”, we had the necessary lubrication to satisfy our need for speed. Miss Pre-Teen quickly discovered that even with slippery toxins, one had to get seriously vertical in order to experience minimal levels of adrenaline. It didn’t take too long for her to comprehend the value of chair lifts…after several runs, she opted to join me behind a camera. This place can make even the most amateur of photographers appear gifted. On this day, the sunset was amplified by the smoke from a massive wildfire in Arizona. The sky was a canvas of purple, pink, orange and blue layers and swirls melting into each other. And, behind our backs, the moon waited patiently to turn the sand into a billion sparkling crystals. Everyone must make a pilgrimage here at least once in a lifetime…

I was so overcome by the beauty of what I had seen that it wasn’t until 10 minutes after we began driving toward the park exit that I realized my feet were bare. My favorite pair of flip-flops were lying somewhere at the bottom of a dune…and, I couldn’t bear to leave them. I should have bought a lottery ticket on the way back to the hacienda. Not only did we find them at the first place we checked, but the car that began to swerve and honk at us was none other than our “cousins”, Troy and Dyan. Troy was full of smiles…and, an idea.

White Sands National Monument Las Cruces New Mexico“Did you guys do any dune jumping?”

Our blank stares were all he needed to jump into action. “Follow me.”

Two minutes later, Troy was enlightening us. Five minutes later, we were running at full speed, leaping off the edge of the dune…and, flying. Forgetting my flip-flops was the most brilliant thing I’d done all week.

Our lunchtime experience had me rethinking my “No Chain” rule. There is some safety in familiarity…and, maybe that would mean chewable meat and a drier salad for dinner. I asked Miss Pre-Teen how she felt about going to Ruby Tuesday for a burger.

“But it’s not Tuesday…can we still go?”

White Sands National Monument Las Cruces New MexicoHere’s her view on Las Cruces…

“New Mexico was a lot like Arizona both weather and activity-wise. The whole time the temperature was between the 90’s and 100’s. My brain was almost baked. Our first morning we awoke to a wonderful breakfast. We talked to the owner (Bob) and he recommended a cute little historic town called Mesilla. He said it was “very worthwhile”, so we jumped in the car and went to find it. We eventually pulled up to a little town that almost looked deserted. We weren’t even sure if we had reached our destination, but we had. We roamed around this tiny town and popped into a few stores. There wasn’t much to it…a church, a restaurant, and a few stores here and there. In the 100+ degree weather, the heat drained us. Bob had also recommended a restaurant called La Posta. We searched for it, then realized it had been right in front of our faces the whole time…not a good sign. We followed some women who knew where the door was. It did not have the appearance of a typical restaurant…we were welcomed by some friendly birds including a macaw and a toucan! We were seated and got our lunch…and, let’s just say I enjoy my tamales softer and my salad without water.

After being in the scorching sun for such a long time, my mom and I were exhausted. We took a (much needed) relaxing afternoon rest. At about 5 p.m., we headed over to the White Sands Monument. It was absolutely breathtaking. The sand was stunningly bright. The dunes went on for miles…you could see no end to the glory. They had perfect slants that you could sled down and perfect hills for relaxing. The sunset was definitely worth the wait. The clouds reflected colors of pink, orange, yellow, red, purple, and more. I have to say in the beginning I was definitely iffy about New Mexico, but White Sands Monument turned me around. And, Las Cruces is a pretty city…when it’s dark outside.”

MONTANA: “Bear Hugged in Yellowstone”

elk in Yellowstone National ParkYellowstone does not welcome you gently, but grasps you firmly by the shoulders, looks you straight in the eyes, and yanks you off your feet in an exuberant bear hug. Immediately after driving through the North Entrance on Day 37 of a 45-day Mother-Daughter Road Trip, my teenager and I were the recipients of just such a hug…

“You know, Mom…this definitely needs to take first place in the ‘Prettiest Drive’ category,” commented said teenager who is usually plugged in and tuned out.

This was the first sign that our first visit to Yellowstone was going to wow us…

Yellowstone National ParkAs we passed through Mammoth Hot Springs, traffic slowed to a crawl…and, finally halted. I still had one foot in the outside world as I became concerned that the drive to West Yellowstone would be unbearably long. Then, I saw them…a herd of elk lying on the grass to our left. At this moment, the outside world disappeared…along with my common sense and dignity. I morphed into the “idiot tourist” that must be chastised to stand back lest they be gored by a bull elk guarding his harem.

Back on the road, my anticipation rose at every bottleneck. By the time we reached the West Gate, we had been gifted a female elk soaking in the Lower Terraces and three solitary bison just steps from the asphalt. My teenager tasted motherhood as she attempted to convince me that snapping close-ups from behind trees was most definitely not safe behavior.

Because I promised my daughter some leftover summer, we had just 1-1/2 days in Yellowstone. In our hotel room, I submitted my proposed itinerary for teenage approval…

Half-Day 1 – Fountain Paint Pot, Grand Prismatic Spring and Old Faithful

Full Day 2 – Monument Geyser Basin, Artists Paintpots, Steamboat Geyser, Tower Falls & Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone

Yellowstone National ParkMy goals were lofty and a tad naïve. My inability to resist the roadside grazers and countless geographical oddities, coupled with the limits of teenage patience, wiped the last two items from the list. Nevertheless, in the short time we spent in the park, we soaked up the abundant wildlife, massive meadows, the reliable Old Faithful, and a vibrant rainbow of colors oozing up from beneath the earth’s surface. In 1-1/2 days, we just dipped our toes into Yellowstone. The deep end is already calling me back…

TRAVEL TIPS: “Mooching a Road Trip Planner”

Come along with my daughter and I as we navigate our country’s highways and byways – circumnavigating the entire U.S. Let’s hope we accomplish every one of our goals…to successfully plan and execute a 50-day road trip, to widen one sheltered teenage mind, to deepen one mother-daughter bond, and to ask women we meet along the way “What retro advice would you give your teenage self?”. 

It’s time to start planning our Retro Advice road trip! To prevent overwhelm, I’ll just follow the advice I give my kids when they are assigned a massive school project — start with what you know, break it into parts, tackle one part at a time, and pace yourself to allow for breathers in between parts.

Here’s what I know (so far)…

  • One young-at-heart middle-aged mom and her almost-teenage girl;
  • 50 days;
  • One turbo Mini-Cooper Clubman;
  • One ton of luggage (including, but not limited to, a mix of healthy and nutrition-less snacks, at least 20 pounds of beauty products, two iPods, two laptops, and enough clothes and shoes to stock a small boutique store);
  • A San Diego launch, a southerly route until we hit the Atlantic, a relaxing meander up the East Coast; a left turn toward the Pacific Northwest, and a return home on a well worn path down the West Coast;
  • And, one probing question to ask women we encounter along the way!

Being a hyper-organizer, I already knew the first “part”. I needed an online hub that would function as my virtual trip binder. “Inside” would be our itinerary, contact information for all accommodations, details on scheduled and optional activities, a “To Do” list, notes, and maps.

This is one of those moments when I shake my head and wonder – “What the heck did we do before the internet???” Within 30 minutes, I had exactly what I needed…

Google is the icing on the cake of the internet. I typed in “road trip planner” and was directed to the source…an article entitled “The Web’s Top Automated Road Trip Planning Programs” published by Road Trip America. (Other search results either provided limited or outdated information or quoted this article.) In the article, six online programs were reviewed and rated ‘” AAA TripTik, Yahoo! Trip Planner, Rand McNally, Mapquest, TravMatix, and Plan-Your-Trip. I’ve learned that 3 stars translates to inconsistent and anything less than 2 stars is just asking for frustration, Only AAA TripTik (4+ out of 5 stars) and Yahoo! Trip Planner (4 stars) seemed worthy of further investigation.

Although the article stated that AAA TripTik was free of charge, at the time I visited the site, it was only “free” to AAA members who paid their $48 annual dues and a $20 “admission fee”. Being a semi-professional internet mooch (who already has auto service), I tested out Yahoo! Trip Planner and found that it had all the features I needed…

  • The ability to share our itinerary via email or a public link;
  • Customizable itinerary items (i.e., city, hotel, restaurant, activity, and more);
  • A “Note” section for listing tasks, reminders or any other relevant information regarding each destination;
  • Accurate maps indicating our route and all planned stops; and,
  • Links to travel guides and personal blogs/reviews for each destination;
  • And, best of all…it was free. Sold!

Part 1 – Check! Part 2 – Hostels. In order to stretch our budget as far as possible, we would be staying at hostels as many nights as possible…much to my royal daughter’s chagrin. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy this “mind expansion” thing quite a bit…and, possibly reap some significant long-term rewards.

Click >>> HERE to read the advice gathered on this trip on the Retro Advice blog!

NEW YORK CITY: “In Search of Perfect Pizza”

The Plan…

  1. Rent out our house during our town’s most visited week – Check!
  2. Fly the whole family to NYC (direct!) to do some serious wandering – Check!
  3. Start looking for the city’s (nope…country’s) most perfect pizza – Check!

DAY 1

New York City

Our East Village neighbors (my family almost disowned me when the Hells Angel guard approached me to stop taking pictures!))

On my last visit to the city in April 2010, I bonded with Greenwich Village and decided that it was time for this family to leave the security of the Midtown tourist zone and experience a different side of New York. Leave it to me to find something truly unique…this trait of mine both delights and disgruntles my kids. Even I was slightly concerned when we walked up to find a Hell’s Angel clubhouse next door to the address we were searching for. Was this some “Angel’s” warped joke…could the “Inter-Faith Community” that purportedly operated Sanctuary Guest Suites really be a motorcycle gang??? As a group of Hare Krishna followers banged their tambourines up the other side of the street, I almost started praying that they were the “faith” in “Interfaith”.

Soon we were being escorted up four flights of seriously steep stairs to our room. As soon as the manager left us, my family turned on me…

“Hun, where is the third bed?”

“Mooommmmm, this neighborhood is scary…and this place is TINY!”

“Great job, Mom…you’ve done it again.”

Before a full-fledged riot began, I whipped out my Droid and found the reservation confirmation…the one that confirmed my competence. I had booked a room with two queen beds and a fold-out couch…we were missing a bed (and room to move around). I sent Lance out on a reconnaissance mission…success! A mistake had been made…after one night in this room, the staff would lug our bags back down to the first floor to our correct room. That was a close one…

New York City graffiti

Some East Village graffiti…

Rest for these weary would be delayed until we got some much needed sustenance. At the recommendation of our taxi driver (and Yelp, of course), we walked a couple of blocks to Katz’s Deli. Opened in 1888, this is the same place where Meg Ryan demonstrated her skill at animated sound effects to Billy Crystal. Everyone must eat here at least once in their lifetime! Even if I didn’t eat for days, I would never be able to finish an entire sandwich by myself…a 4″ high stack of the most incredible pastrami and corned beef atop real rye bread. And, they get it here…you keep the focus on the specialty and forget the rest. In this case, the only other necessary ingredient is stone ground mustard…that’s all. I channeled Meg Ryan while I ate my half sandwich…the sign above my head said we were sitting at THE table. I was having such a New York moment…which is why I didn’t complain (much) when I caught sight of the $50 tab. All we got were two sandwiches and three sodas.

DAY 2

Lombardi's pizza New York City

Our FAVORITE pizza from Lombardi’s in Little Italy!

After eating a self-serve breakfast in Sanctuary’s breakfast room, we set out for Scott’s Pizza Tour. A miracle happened on the way there…not a single complaint or argument was uttered, nor were hard core negotiation tactics put in play! I think I’m onto something big…involve good food in as many activities as possible.

Scott showed up right on time outside of Gatsby’s, the location of the original Lomardi’s, in Little Italy. He was exactly what I was hoping for…goofy, humorous, contagiously passionate, and a pizza genius. Here’s a blurb from his website:

“Scott Wiener [yep...that's unfortunate] is a weathered traveler who has searched far and wide for great pizza. He developed a deep appreciation for New York pizza while traveling cross-country, noting both delicious and abysmal pies in his Pizza Journal. While some gems did pop up, nothing quite matched the quality of the pizza back home. Pizza soon became an obsession, as Scott’s beloved Pizza Journal provided empty pages that begged to be filled. The media even took interest and Scott found himself in Las Vegas, judging twenty pizzas for Pizza Today magazine’s International Pizza Expo in 2007. New Jersey’s Garden Plate Magazine says “Call Scott Wiener what you want — crazed, possessed, in serious need of a life — but you have to admire someone who has thrown himself so enthusiastically into his work, his mission.” With this mission clear, Scott has made it his duty to deliver the people to the pizza. Armed with a NYC Sightseeing Guide license and an unstoppable hunger, Scott is ready to share his favorite slices with you.”

Scott's Pizza Tours New York City

Scott the Pizza Guru

Who knew there was so much to know about pizza??? In the next three hours, our brains – and stomachs – were stuffed. My New York City envy kicked into full gear with our first stop at Alleva’s (the “oldest Italian cheese store in America”) where we tasted unsalted fresh mozzarella made less than 30 minutes before we arrived. (Sigh.) We reveled over the Margherita pizza at Lombardi’s (the first pizza parlor in the states…licensed in 1905, but purported to be up and running before that), Joe’s Pizza (a walk-up establishment selling slices near NYU), and John’s Pizzeria (a child of Lombardi’s opened in 1929). We left well qualified to conduct our own personal survey of New York pizzas…something I intended to take quite seriously on this trip. I also wanted to be so sick of pizza by the time we got back to San Diego that I would make it at least a month before serious pizza disgruntlement arose. We were all pretty doubtful that we would find a place to outrank Lombardi’s…our hands-down favorite…but, that didn’t stop us from trying.

Nom nom nom nom…

I used to cram each and every day of our vacations so full of sight-seeing that everyone (okay, not me) would be pushed to their absolute limit. Consistent travels – and a new-found appreciation for the art of relaxation – cured me of this neurotic habit. My family is thankful. Each day we return to our room to read, write, get a Facebook fix, Yelp, download pictures…or just snooze. Thankfully, we were in the right room with the extra bed when we returned for today’s rest. Still not much room to move around (and still no TV), but I sure wasn’t complaining…

Since Lance turned me onto Yelp several years ago (in the culinarily challenged city of Big Bear, California), the quality of our travels – especially in terms of cuisine – has been nearly perfected. After Yelping to plan our evening, we headed for Chinatown. For dinner – the 5-star Prosperity Dumplings. For dessert – Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. For entertainment – Chinatown Fair.

Prosperity Dumplingis a family-run walk-up counter in an authentic section of Chinatown. You choose your dumplings and sesame pancakes from the menu above…yes, the prices are in U.S. dollars. How many places in the U.S. can you feed – and hydrate – a family of four for $11.00??? I slunk away like I had ripped off this hard-working Asian family. But, it was fun to watch the family devour dumplings on a picnic table next to hordes of happy children in the neighborhood’s newest park.

Prosperity Dumpling Chinatown New York City

The 5-star hole-in-the-wall…YUM!

Our individual personalities were confirmed at the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory. Spencer and I ordered green tea ice cream (come on…we are in Chinatown!) and Lance and Sophie stayed safe with regular and mint chocolate chip. This place deserves the crowds…

Our trip to Chinatown Fair (a vintage arcade) was really a ploy to bank some brownie points to use at tomorrow’s Ground Zero tour. When we walked into the darkened 100+ degree video cave filled with sweaty boys and boy-men, I thought to myself…how in the hell am I going to survive the next 30 minutes??? Then I saw Centipede and Galaga…my temporary escapes from this dreary reality. I followed my son into the core of the hovel, watched him pause, then turn around.

“Let’s go, Mom…this place smells of obsession.”

It was just the sign a mother needs that there is hope for her offspring!

The kids were done for the day, but Lance and I weren’t…that quaint wine bar up the street was beckoning us. The vibe at Three of Cups was very East Village-esque. My white wine sangria – ehhh. But, Lance raved about his two glasses of Malbec. The coal-fired pizza oven behind us did not escape our attention…I feel the competition starting to heat up.

DAY 3

bamboo bird cages Hua Mei Bird Garden New York City

Bamboo bird cages in Hua Mei Bird Garden…

This morning – as I gingerly placed a loaf of moldy bread in the trash receptacle – I focused on how much money we were saving by not eating out every morning. The travel book I had been using on this trip – The Cool Parent’s Guide to All of New York – suggested a walk through Hua Mei Bird Garden in Sara D. Roosevelt Park. While I thought it was quite worthy, it didn’t appear that the rest of my family agreed with me. They seemed to be pondering my sanity as they sat on the curb while I snapped pictures of Chinese men tending their prized song birds that were hanging in bamboo cages throughout the park. Fighting thrushes, finches, canaries, and more…all practicing for some serious vocal competition. Consummate New York…

There is a mathematical relationship between outside temperatures and bickering in our family. It was getting hotter outside…just in time for our walking tour of Ground Zero. My children questioned my sanity once again…hadn’t I promised them no more “regular” tours??? Yes, but I assured them that this one would be far from regular…the tour guide who had been personally impacted by 9/11 better not let me down. It took about 30 minutes for me to be proven right…everyone just needs to stop questioning me!

9-11 Memorial New York City

My son reading the names on the 9-11 Memorial Wall…

Emotional, educational, enlightening…after about 40 minutes perusing the WTC Tribute Center gallery, which houses videos, photos, quotes, paraphernalia found in the wreckage, a memorial to all the people who lost their lives, and more – the walking tour began. Our guide was Chris, a middle-aged guy who was working on the 82nd floor of the first building to be hit. He choked up numerous times as he told the harrowing story of his narrow – and very lucky – escape. I was unsuccessful in holding back my own tears…I wasn’t the only one. For Spencer and Sophie to admit that I was right near the end of the tour was all the proof I needed that the tour had impacted them as well. One of the best sites was the American Express memorial in honor of the 11 employees who were working at one of the points of impact…an 11-sided basin engraved with each employee’s name. A massive crystal “teardop” hovers above the still pool dripping 11 “tears” randomly into an otherwise still pool of water.

Today, Sophie and Spencer demonstrated their own deep appreciation of Yelp. Emotionally spent and getter hotter by the minute, they were willing (albeit barely at times) to walk the four blocks to Crepes du Nord knowing that a 5-star from Yelpers meant some seriously good food. This crepe-obsessed family was excited! And, we were not let down…crepes filled with chicken/goat cheese/asparagus, prosciutto de parma/arugula/ricotta cheese, and raspberries/Nutella and fresh whipped cream…washed down with housemade lingonberry soda. And, what a quaint section of the financial district…so European (complete with an authentic Irish pub tucked amongst the towering high-rises).

Our excellent WTC tour guide, Chris…he just escaped the building in time.

We returned to officially enter Three of Cups into our family’s pizza competition. Their Margherita pizza shot straight to second place…coming close, but not ousting Lombardi’s from their first place ranking. After dinner we hopped on the subway to Times Square…to see lights and an improv comedy show at Chicago City Limits. We were still chuckling about the last kid-friendly show we saw here several years ago. The shows here have a consistent formula, but vary in the level of comedic talent and quality of crowd participation. This time didn’t bring us quite as much laughter, but it was still a worthy evening…

DAY 4 – INDEPENDENCE DAY!

I believe it’s appropriate to use the adjectives “frickin’” and “sweltering” to describe the state of New York City on the country’s 234th birthday. In fact, a record was set…it hasn’t been this hot on July 4th since 1973. After breakfast, the kids went on strike refusing to leave the air-conditioned room. Now that they are old enough to stay alone for awhile wearing their cell phone leashes, we parents are no longer deprived. This was the ideal time to introduce Lance to Greenwich Village…and Murray’s Cheese, and Palma Restaurant, and Milk & Cookies, and Cherry Lane Theater, and the quiet tree-lined streets lined with historical brownstones. Maybe he would fall in love as well. (He did.)

We stumbled upon one of the restaurants that was recommended by the food tour guide I met on my last visit…just in time for lunch. The The Little Owl is a teeny neighborhood eatery on Bedford Street…one of my favorite streets in the Village. Our scrumptious lunch included fresh tomato salad with housemade ranch dressing and gravy bangers served on cheese-encrusted mini-buns. I later found out that it’s not uncommon to wait two hours to eat here…hmmm, is it that good? I don’t think much of anything is good enough for me to be quite that patient…

Sweltering…

While doing my afternoon Yelping, I got a message from a local who shared my taste in pizza and recommended some pizzerias to try while we were still in town. For dinner tonight we chose Pizza Gruppo in Alphabet City, just several blocks from our little village “sanctuary”. Another hole-in-the-wall (“tiny” seems to go hand-in-hand with most restaurants in NYC) that specializes in thin crust pizza…and, I mean “ultra” thin crust. If you like substance to your pizza (like Spencer), you probably won’t be a fan of this place…but, Lance, Sophie and I ranked Gruppo’s at third place (tied with Joe’s Pizza) in our cut-throat competition.

After years of traveling, most of my travel decisions tend to be spot on. However, the one where I decided not to listen to my travel book and instead took the advice of “Mario the Manager” at Sanctuary goes on record as one my worst decisions. Laziness courtesy of the day’s record temperatures – and an aversion to massive crowds – got the better of me. Rather than head to Williamsburg to watch the Macy’s firework show, I opted to believe Mario who assured me we would be able to see the 40,000 shells being launced in honor of our country from Sanctuary’s roof deck. WRONG, Mario! All we saw was pretty colored smoke…complete with mocking sound effects. I had to dig deep to find peace – for myself and Mario.

DAY 5

Times Square at night New York City

The colorful Times Square

Outside temperatures were starting to feel like the inside of an oven…and, the kids were fighting harder and harder against the expenditure of any energy. I managed to “convince” them to walk in the direction of some really good iced tea (and more dumplings) this (very late) morning. Yaya Tea Garden was not a place we would have found had it not been for Yelp…definitely a local hangout. We all ordered cold drinks – Japanese sodas or fruit-infused iced tea. I wasn’t brave enough to try the “gel” additive (described as being similar to Jello)…maybe next time. Even though we were forewarned by previous Yelpers – and used 100% of our intellectual prowess – we still ate the dang rice balls wrong. The pathetic thing is that we had been discussing how intelligent we be until the girl behind the counter announced across the room – “Oh…you are eating your rice balls wrong!” It’s true…all of us are technically challenged.

The allure of the next stop motivated my kids to venture out into the oven yet again and walk several blocks to the city’s “Bargain District”. They have never forgotten Economy Candy from their visit several years ago. At last Sophie could resolve her deap-seated “candy envy” over Spencer’s licorice strings of years gone by. I only allowed myself to buy candy I rarely, if ever, saw in stores…violet pastilles, a chocolate covered sesame bar, Zotz, and sour cherry gum. Lance, of course, stuck with his all-time favorite…malted milk balls.

Buying the goods at Economy Candy

The sign of an stellar restaurant is one that can lure me back for a second (and – unheard of – third) visit on the same trip. Three of Cups gets that rare distinction. It also helped put my kids in the right frame of mind to hop on the underground sauna (AKA…subway) and sweat on the grass while watching “The French Connection” at Bryant Park. I had to own the “insane” label they were slapping on me about midway through the movie. There was absolutely no air flow amongst the hundreds of moviegoers sitting on the lawn and…my apologies to any old movie buffs, but the movie was just bad. About halfway through, I surrendered, we woke up Spencer and went in search of water.

DAY 6

There was actually a sane reason we chose to visit New York City in the middle of summer…Lance had to work. While he attended meetings this morning, the kids and I braved the subway on our own (successfully!) and found the Apple Store on 5th Avenue. Spencer and I were both surprised that it wasn’t much different that the one in San Diego, so it was a short (air conditioned) visit. All three of us were more than willing to step inside the also air-conditioned FAO Schwartz right next door to play for a bit. The massive amount of toys in this place is truly mind boggling. And, we all had to wonder what kind of parent would buy their kid a giant stuffed animals that cost as much as a small used car. As we left, the kids and I couldn’t resist getting a picture with the living toy soldier guarding the front door…I’m sure he’s counting the days until he graduates college and moves onto to bigger and better assignments.

We couldn’t resist…

Sophie and I forced Spencer to join us for a little “dessert” before lunch at Abercrombie & Fitch on 5th Avenue – a mini-shopping excursion for Sophie and the Abercrombie catalog in the flesh for me! (My Facebook status update that afternoon…“1. I’d love to do laundry on THAT washboard!; and, 2. Please don’t speak…it’ll ruin the fantasy.”) I was so excited to introduce the kids to one of my very favorite restaurants in the city – Radiance Tea House. As usual in intense moments of passion, my refinement takes a field trip…hence, I prepared them for the “best frickin’ dumplings” that will ever grace their mouths. They agreed…and, added miso soup to the “best frickin’” list. In Spencer’s words…“Oh my God, I’d move to New York City for this place.” I was thrilled when Lance was able to join us and have his own mouth graced.

Time for our afternoon rest…I wish I could be disciplined enough to adopt this practice at home. When the tea and dumplings wore off, Lance and I walked a few blocks to our next Yelp find – Pommes Frittes, home of authentic Belgian fries. After we watched a skateboarder plow down an eccentric old guy who proceeded to come completely unglued, we ordered fries to feed a family of 12 (to go) and narrowed it down to four dipping sauces. We sure enjoyed the small dent we made in the fry pile…

Ahhh…an adults only night. An off-off-Broadway comedy production at Cherry Lane Theater - Nunsense! – and a Heavenly dinner at Palma Restaurant. We laughed at the play and moaned (with pleasure) at the dinner…

Cherry Lane Theater Greenwich Village New York City

The off-off-Broadway Cherry Lane Theater in Greenwich Village…a must see!

DAY 7

Another day of meetings for Lance…another day of navigating the subway for the rest of us. Today Spencer proved that he is finally paying enough attention to make himself useful…hurray for 15 year olds! Together we managed to navigate our way to Battery Park inside an air-conditioned movie theater…just as the previews started. We girls (and my sensitive husband who would be meeting up with us later) wanted some vampiric love and opted for Eclipse. The boy was lusting for action and went solo to see The Last Airbender”. The movies could have been as bad as The French Connection and we wouldn’t have cared…we were just grateful for a step out of the outdoor sauna.

We were in the neighborhood of another pizza place that had been recommended by the pizza loving local Yelper…if we could just find it. Tucked away down a pedestrian alley in the same quaint area as Crepes du Nord, Adrienne’s Pizza Bar was the temporary setting for all the World Cup enthusiasts in the immediate vicinity. The bad news…the air conditioning was broken. Maybe that explains our less-than-satisfactory experience here…I’m sure it was the cause of the way less-than-perfect service, but I’m not quite sure how it could have impacted the seriously average pizza. Rectangle? Airy crust? No, thank you! The good news…Spain won.

Adrienne's Pizza Bar Wall Street New York City

World Cup enthusiasts at Adrienne’s Pizza Bar

Lance almost melted in subway on the way home. We made it back to the room for our afternoon rest just before he suffered the same fate as the Wicked Witch of the West. After a quick shower, he went in search of a massage. He came back an hour later a new man…just in time to save our offspring. Close quarters and triple-digit temps were taking their toll on all of us. It was pretty ironic that I was taking a walk outside to “cool off”…but, it was exactly what I needed to get over my disgruntlement at missing out on Banjo Jim’s. We are out of time…tomorrow we return home to our blessedly overcast city.

DAY 8

On the journey home I always take a moment to absorb what I learned on my latest wander…

On a shallow note…New York City brings out the addict in me. And, Yelp is my dealer of choice. As soon as I arrive, I start planning each day’s lunch and dinner in order to maximize each culinary experience. It’s more than just the food itself…it’s the people who prepare and serve the food with an artistic passion, the setting where you savor it, and, of course, the divine food itself made from the freshest of the city’s ingredients. Thank goodness I walk a lot when I’m here…

New York City graffiti

More East Village graffiti…

On a more spiritual level…on this journey I fully grasped the concept that places have spirits. While I’ve always felt that a city, town, community, or neighborhood is influenced by the collective spirit of those who reside there, I now believe it goes much deeper than that. I believe there is a native spirit residing in the place that was there long before people…and, it attracts those kindred souls that are listening. The spirit of a place influences everything…its collective priorities, the architecture, the type of restaurants and stores (and the employees who work there), the vibe. Large cities seem to have a “master spirit” that divides itself into segments, each with its own unique personality. Here you can see and feel the artsy bohemian feel of East and West Villages, the more conservative business vibe of Midtown and Wall Street, and the old money of the Upper East and West Sides.

And, finally…New York is frickin’ hot in July.

New York City…a city with a vibrant history and international flavor; home to a diverse population, many who hold tight to their ethnicity and the art of the specialty; artistic and intellectual; seasons that generate a passion for weather. My spirit thrives here…

A different kind of graffiti…I love NYC!