Istuti, Sri Lanka!

Why Sri Lanka you ask? Better yet, where is Sri Lanka, you ask? (No judgement)

Four months ago, sitting alone at ORD reflecting on a wonderful Thanksgiving surrounded by family and friends, I knew it was primetime to lock down my next big adventure. I rang up a friend to get brainstorming… 45 minutes, several intriguing Google image searches and a glass or two of wine later… we had booked flights to Sri Lanka!

I didn't know much about the country at the time except that it was said to have beautiful beaches, lots of sunshine, delicious food, and the opportunity to see elephants up close and personal. Done deal. 

I would later come to find out that Sri Lanka, formerly known as Ceylon, provides a significant portion of the world's tea supply. As was only appropriate, we spent the first part of our trip in Hapatule, tea country, at the former estate of Sir Thomas Lipton. Feeling ambitious we decided to hike to Lipton's Seat one morning - after all, our lovely host Melinda told it would be "very easy for us." Well, one wrong turn and the hike quickly went from the intended 1.5 miles to a grueling 8.5 miles at an elevation of 2,000 meters. Oofkins.

But what a journey it was. We witnessed entire villages set above the clouds. And the people (none of whom wore shoes by the way) were always so excited to see us, running from their homes to greet us.

No trip to Sri Lanka would be complete without a trip to see the elephants, so a couple days later we set out to a Master Campers (read: glamping) adjacent to Udawalwe National Park. We did two safaris, one in the evening and one in the morning... 

Final stop: the beach! We drove to Tangalle, a beautiful beach on the south cost of the island. After one night glamping we were ready to treat ourselves.

On loving - and leaving - New York

I spent 8 years in New York. Wrapped up in a sentence like that I realize it may not sound like long. But 8 years is an eternity. It's a lifetime; hell it's multiple lifetimes. In 8 years I loved and lost and loved again. I rediscovered friendships that had only grown sweeter with the passage of time.  I stumbled again and again and sometimes I fell... hard. But eventually I made a name for myself. In many ways I grew up in New York. It wasn't all great; no, definitely not. But it was the best 8 years of my life. 

Like many former New Yorkers: I never fell out of love with New York. Rather, one day, in the pit of my stomach I knew it was time to leave. I packed up my apartment, moving my things to a lovely long-term storage facility in Newark, New Jersey... and I knew I wouldn't be back. My New York chapter was over.

The next chapter, I anticipated with excitement, would be one of adventure, of exploration, of discovery. And boy oh boy: dreaming up / living this life has been exhilarating beyond measure.  I've been fixated on travel and the treasures one finds along the way: floating effortlessly in the Adriatic, the Mediterranean, the Atlantic; dancing in the "The Valley," discovering what Pain Au Chocolate is meant to taste like, foraging for Chantarelles in Eastern Europe, the list goes on and on. These are the things people want to hear about. Once In a while maybe I'll divulge some of the more comical, uh, "hiccups"... like getting swindled by an Airbnb host in Barcelona, being accosted by a group of Russian Manchesterians onboard an airplane and countless mostly innocent travel faux pas. But then there are the things I only speak about in hushed whispers because somehow it feels ungrateful to speak them aloud... like, I really miss my family. And my good friends. And the feel of sunshine on my face.

Suffice to say: Thanksgiving could not have come at a more perfect time. It had been 9 months. It was time to go Home.

I remember looking forward to that day every day, multiple times a day, for weeks. "8 more Mondays," I would text my family. Finally it was "7 more sleeps," and then, after what seemed like forever it was: "I just landed at JFK; hoping in a taxi."

The only way I can explain it is: to me, Home is a big soulful hug. Where the recipient doesn't pull away after a second or two, but grasps you closer, with both hands. It's a warm place; where things make sense. And my soul smiles. I was home, and nothing had changed. I could exhale and be me. 

The thing is: I know who I am in New York. And that identity is reinforced when I instinctively tell the cab driver what route to take; as I joke with old friends in my slightly off sense of humor; as I walk on autopilot to my favorite coffee shops, fitness studios, vintage stores. It's reinforced when I effortlessly stroll into senior leaderships' office to catch up, and when I am able to have honest conversations with those closest to me.  

I'll admit it. I looked around - through the lens of my best friends' floor to ceiling windows facing downtown Manhattan no less - and I thought: "Could I live here again?" 

And every time the answer is: No.

Instead, it's time to define what life looks like for me now, here. Aside from travel, what do I want to get out of this experience? What do I want to learn? Where do I want to grow? 

I'll keep you posted...

Rediscovering Londres

Hi, remember me? Admittedly I haven't posted in a while. The sad and honest truth is: I ran out of vacation days. Yep, all 30 of them completely committed before I hit September. Not ideal, and I've vowed to do things differently next year my friends. In the meantime, my adventures and corresponding posts will be limited to London and its surrounding areas for the next couple months (fear not: I foresee Brussels, Berlin and Bath in my not too distant future)

That being said, one of my best friends and former next door neighbor moved to London exactly seven days ago. He too took a calculated leap, having never been here aside from a family trip as a wee young lad. Selfishly this means two things: I have the chance to rediscover this fine city from the esteemed position of knowledgable tour guide, and two I have someone to share in the city's many mysteries: people really don't tip here?; why are there no door knobs?; what's with the incessant fire doors? I have to push a button to exit all buildings?; why aren't there outlets in the bathroom? is it normal that they don't put eggs in the fridge? why are the yolks are orange? what's "quid"? why are they asking me what size wine I want? We all know there is only one answer to that question....

As any reasonable person would do their first week in London, we promptly hopped on a two hour train ride to Paris. We departed St Pancras International Saturday at 14.30 (see what I did there?) and returned Sunday by 18.30. In that short 24 hour time period we ate like kings, drank like fish and I showed Christo some of my favourite places in Paris...

The stunning Notre Dame. One day I will muster the courage to join the queue and see it from the inside.

Colourful homes on Rue Crémieux

And my absolute favourite: Shakespeare & Company - "a wonderland of books" where the likes of F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, William S. Boroughs and Allen Ginsberg were invited to sleep for free in exchange for helping around the bookshop. 

Truth be told, I have yet to make it to Montmartre, the Eiffel Tower or the Louvre... but there's always next time :)

Adventures in Latvia

When I brainstormed all the countries I'd go to this year, I wasn't expecting I'd end up in Latvia. France, Spain, Germany yes. Who would have known I'd fall hard for Eastern Europe?

I arrived in Riga, the capital, late Thursday evening. A young, friendly, very enterprising young Latvian man (along with a close friend) picked me up from the airport and drove us deep into the Latvian countryside. Highways turned to gravel roads turned to muddy trails as we arrived at Vaglani to a group of people, visible only by flashlight, gazing up at the stars.

I soon met Paula, Natasha, Virgil, Laura, Martins, Linda, Jacob and Kitty who would be my housemates for the next few days. We stayed in a two story countryside home kept warm by a woodburning stove, set on hundreds of acres of beautiful Latvian countryside. Over the next few days/nights we slept together, ate together, laughed together, sauna-ed together. We went from complete strangers to close friends.

Each meal was carefully prepared by Laura, often with ingredients selected from one of the many gardens. On Friday morning the ten of us went for a long walk into the Latvian forest to gather Chantarelles. At first they were tough to find, but before long we had gathered hundreds of small almost neon orange shroomies. These would become a staple of our meals to come, creatively sauteed with honey, or puréed into soup, or mixed into salads with herbs from the garden.

Another unlikely staple of our meals was a baby deer, affectionately referred to as Bambi. As a fair-weather vegetarian I felt it was my duty to appreciate this gift. (I am also chest-deep in Yuval Noah Harari's "Sapiens" and relished the opportunity to connect with my hunter-gatherer ancestors of yore.) Bambi was killed by a local hunter only a few days prior, and over the course of the weekend Martins and Laura would strip him/her down to her bones to create delicious soups, steaks, and tartare.

By now you've all read about Saturday evenings sauna ritual, where I and several formerly strangers got completely naked and were slapped/massages/scrubbed by older Latvian women in 150 degree heat, for five hours. While at first I was a bit bashful, by the end I couldn't get enough. No surprise here. 

All of the above was unexpected icing on a truly phenomenal cake... the reason we ventured to Latvia was for Ezera Skanas, the annual Lake Event. At midnight on Friday night/Saturday morning, we piled into the van and drove an hour and a half to Mezare. When we arrived it was windy and cold and raining. I was grateful to have packed my Iceland gear - long underwear, thermals, ponchos, hats - not to mention the bottle of rum we consumed en route. We inflated our boat and set off for the shore. Then, Martins and Christ - who clearly established themseleves as our knights in shining armour- rowed us 2.5 kilometers through sideways rain as we huddled together in the back of the boat. Just as I was starting to really wonder wtf I was doing here, the rain stopped and I heard sounds of music off in the distance...

Slowly the sun crept up through dawn and we could see hundreds of boats around us, wading in the water enjoying the music and natural beauty around us. There are no words to adequately explain what a magical experience this was, so I leave you with these images....

Ibiza with the boys

It's Tuesday evening around 6pm and the Ibiza airport looks a lot like death's waiting room. Tan, fragile twenty/thirty-somethings line the walls leaning against vending machines and each other for support while others are outstretched on the floor. Believe it or not, I just polished off an Americano, and, relatively speaking, I feel fantastic. 

I met Eric and Sef a couple months ago through a mutual friend. Our first meeting was fairly... rowdy, but peel back the layers of rose and espresso martinis and I could tell these were solid people. So when Eric invited me to join him and seven friends in Ibiza I could be think of few reasons to oppose. I threw caution to the wind and booked my flights. As the day grew closer I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into. Did I really book a trip with 2 people I have known for a matter weeks and 5 people I've never met? 

For those of you who don't know, Ibiza, pronounced "Ibeetha", is one of the Balearic Islands roughly 150 miles off the eastern coast of Spain. While technically it's part of Spain, it shares little cultural resemblance with the mainland. Ibiza is known for its summer club scene as the birthplace of electronic music. Attractive young men and women from all over Europe flock to enjoy world class DJs at places like Ushuaia and Pasha, where the party gets going around 2-3AM. Beach clubs like Blue Marlin, Cotton Club and Experimental Club boast incredible views in exchange for €200 sunbeds. And the very salty Mediterranean Sea is a beautiful, clear, blue green. 

I left my flat Thursday morning at 3:30am and by noon I was stretched out by the pool, Estrella in hand alongside with two Swedish gentlemen. Turns out the only other girls on the trip had to cancel last minute. Just me and the boys this weekend... 

We set out to Cotton Beach club down the road just in time to catch a beautiful sunset. I was so excited to finally be back at sea that I swam all the way out to that rock and climbed up top to check out the view... 

that's me on that far off rock! #mermaid4lyfe

The next day with the full group on tow we ventured from beach, to beach bar, to beach club, to night club with little rest in between. And then we did it all again the next day. 

Spending a weekend with the boys - especially these boys -  was a blast, while providing interesting insight into the male psyche.

Oh, and I know what you're wondering and the answer is no... to both questions :)

Escape to the country

Without being dramatic, my heart and soul are doing jumping jacks... I'm headed to the country!!!

I've always found it interesting the way city folk describe leaving the city. In New York, "going out east" meant I was taking a jam packed LIRR out to Montauk, while "heading to the country" meant I was going glamping upstate. Sometimes, if I'm honest, it just meant I was going to Westchester. "Ah, the air is so much cleaner up here," I'd marvel, grateful for the opportunity to stick my arm out the window without fear of dismemberment from a passing taxi. Life's simple pleasures.

This weekend, two tubes, a train and a car ride later I'll be in what I can only describe as a lush estate. There's even signs of sunshine!!

We rented a gorgeous Victorian cottage located in a conservation area of the Hambleton Valley. Our village, Fingest, is tiny with maybe 10 cottages cluttered around a 12th century church. In true British form, the only other establishment aside from the church is a pub aka "Public House." There was also this operational red phone booth in case anyone shold want to contact the outside world (no one has, or really needs, cell service in Fingest). 

As you can see above, the back of the home - through some ingenious device known as bifolding doors - opens up to the exapnsive English countryside. Time drifted by as we just sat and stared at sheep, horses and vast green expanse. I went to sleep to the sounds of silence, with occasional chirpings from what I can only presume was a chipmunk, or a bird, or a creature unknown. This was a welcome change of pace from the night before, when I went to sleep to the sounds of a rave outside my window and lots of sirens (see: Friday nights in Shoreditch).

I feel so well rested!!

Next stop: IBIZA!

Obrigado, Lisboa

Aaaah Lisbon. Where days begin at 2pm and end at 5am, and Jamon Iberico is the primary food group, and water with meals is an afterthought. Lisbon, the city by the sea, where the buildings are colorful and covered in tiles, the hills are steep, the people are friendly, and the drinks are cheap. Lisbon, you're a tough one to leave, that's for sure.

Before I left New York in January, my close friends all committed to dates to come visit me in London or elsewhere (I really do have the best friends). The last in this procession of adventures was Lisbon with my friends Sam, Mike, Brock and Wes. 

Our trip to Lisbon was initially anchored around NOS Alive music festival, which featured big acts including: The Weeknd, the xx, Alt-J, Foo Fighters, Bonobo, Phoenix, Glass Animals and many more. In actuality we only made it to one night of the festival (which got going at 10:30pm and finished at 4am!) and used the remaining time to explore the city and its surroundings. 

Lisbon is known to many as San Francisco's European sister city, as the two share identical Golden Gate Bridges, and cable cars, and very (read: VERY) steep hills. Seriously about the hills though... in 3.5 days I walked 20+ miles and climbed 150 flights of stairs. Unfortunately the weather wasn't entirely on our side this time, so I'll obviously have to go back to check out the beaches. A few highlights from this round:

• TimeOut (yep, the magazine) Market - an massive indoor food market that reminded me of Foodhallen in Amsterdam. Sam and I began each day here (typically around 3pm) with prosciutto toast and red wine, naturally. If you're in Lisbon this is an absolute must. 
• LX Factory - a mini-city filled with adorable little stores, coffee shops, restaurants and a beer garden located a couple miles outside of Lisbon's city center
• Quinta de Regaleira - a lush estate, UNESCO World Heritage site, palace and chapel located in Sintra, a 45 minute drive from Lisbon's city center. Extensive underground tunnels culminated in the "Initiation Well," a 29 meter underground spiral staircase used for Tarot initiation rites. 
• Castelo dos Mouros - also a UNESCO World Heritage site, located a few steep miles up the mountain from Quinta de Regaleira (tuk-tuk recommended), this eighth century castle sits high above the clouds. 
• Beaches: Unfortunately weather did not permit this time, but Cascais and Troia were highly recommended to us by locals
• Belem: Home to Mosterio Jeronimos and the infamous Pasteis de Nata, Portugal's crown jewel... a delicious custard pastry.

We covered a lot of ground in a relatively short time this past weekend. More than anything, though, my trip to Lisbon serves as a reminder of just how nice it is to have close friends nearby. It was such a treat having my pals on this side of the pond. Can't wait for the next adventure! 

Up, up and away

The last time I boarded a flight I was seated in the middle seat of the last row, surrounded by a band of Jamaicans from Manchester on their way home from a gig in St Petersburg, Russia.  While initially things were off to a good start, things escalated quickly when one member of the band realised he and his girlfriend would be separated for an entire two hours. Shouting, swearing and pushing ensued until I relocated to the front of the plane and the lovely couple was escorted off the plane by the police. 

Needless to say I await with some trepidation to see who will sit in the as yet unoccupied seat to my left. 

Aaaaah. Business traveler with a sense of humour. Exhale. 

When I arrived in London many moons ago, back in the days when I couldn't tell a bank from a grocery store and my closest friend was 1000+ miles away, I booked a shitload of vacations to look forward should the going get tough. Lisbon is the last in a procession of trips booked those first couple weeks to different variations of my happy place (the beach, could you guess?) 

When I get back I have some serious planning to do. But in the meantime, time to power down. Next stop: Lisbon to meet Miss Sammie Silberberg! 

Last day in Croatia

I'm sitting at a restaurant where the Continental Breakfast is two pieces of toast + jam + coffee/tea. The Fitness Breakfast is meusili (basically a better version of oatmeal) and fresh fruit. The Croatians would be absolutely floored by the breakfasts in America! I'm looking at you Apple Villa in Barrington, IL. 

Anywaaaay, I did a self-guided tour (I abhor group tours) on Saturday of the Dubrovnik city walls. Quick history lesson: the Walls of Dubrovnik were originally constructed around the seventh century when Dubrovnik was founded, with modifications and additions into the seventeenth century. The walls protected the peace and prosperity of city's inhabitants and were never breached by a hostile army. 

To this day, people's entire lives take place within these walls. 

Yesterday I splurged on full day trip to three separate islands, complete with a fresh lunch (I'm talking a freshly caught fish with the head on! No PB&J here) and lotsa wine. I'll let the photos speak for themselves:  

As only my closest friends and family know (and the rest of you may be shocked to find out) I'm actually a grandma. Another full day in the sun meant I was absolutely zonked. Like so tired basic cognitive function became difficult. So, for the second day in a row I retreated to bed for a casual 13 hour snooze. Yep that means I've spent 26 of the past 48 hours asleep. Feels fantastic.

Ok I think I've overstayed my welcome at this adorable cafe! Off to kill some time before Dani picks me up for the airport. Poljupci! 

Dobre dolšli, Dubrovnik

My friends warned me that I wouldn't need, or want, to spend more than a day in Dubrovnik. I've been here two days now, and I respectfully disagree.  

I arrived in the early evening on Thursday and immediately set off to explore Old Town, or the area within the city walls (more on this soon). As I'm realising is a trend whenever I arrive in any new city, I wandered past countless cafes and restaurants searching for the perfect place to have dinner: "not enough people," "too many people," "too many tourists," "meh ambiance," "not authentic enough," until I finally stumbled upon a sign that read "Kanoma Paloma Croatia: Local Traditional Cuisine." Bingo.

Everyone raves about the food in Spain - for good reason, it's absolutely delicious - but the food in Croatia... Oh. My. God. I strongly believe you have to eat as the locals do wherever you go, so while I'm not generally an anchovies person, after an enthusiastic recommendation from my waitress Luccia I threw caution to the wind. Boy were they goooooood. 

I set out for my premiere scuba adventure early the next morning. While physically scuba is not demanding, I found the mental hurtle of allowing myself to inhale under water very challenging. As we set off my sole focus was, "inhale, exhale, try to relax. inhale, exhale, try to relax." Meanwhile, my instructor expects me to respond to his underwater sign language and my ears are popping and it's cold down here and am I actually swimming with a school of fish?!

Total natural, right?! 

When did breathing get so complicated? 

Mike has clearly done this before.  

An hour or two of underwater exploration and a celebratory "I survived!" Aperol Spritz later, I took a 10 minute ferry from the main island to Lokum, a UNESCO wildlife preserve just off the coast. I introduced myself to no less than 15 wild peacocks and their babes and another 15 big fat bunny rabbits.  Through the trees I found the coast, where the blue sky melted into the blue green sea. I stared off into the distance for a moment, gazing at a multitude of small, hilly islands that disappeared into the horizon. 

This section of the Adriatic is dubbed "The Dead Sea." As I lay outstretched in the open water, eyes closed absorbing the sun, I realised it was actually somewhat difficult to submerge myself in the water. In fact I was so comfortably supported by the salty sea beneath me that I contemplated taking a nap right then and there. Reason got the best of me and I climbed out, stretched out, and then passed out.

More to come soon, but for now... back to the beach!! 

Welcome

For as long as I can remember, time seemed to slip by. Moments turned into months turned into years. Finally, fortunately, that is no longer the case. 

It has been four and a half months since I moved to London. 

In that time, I have hiked mountains and explored glacier caves in Iceland, visited thirteenth century villages in Switzerland, toured Paris with a handsome Portuguese, jumped off cliffs and explored caves along the Mediterranean Sea. I have lead nearly 20 intimate gigs in people's living rooms across London and I have developed new relationships of substance with people from all over the world. I have enjoyed weed cafes in Amsterdam, pints of Guinness in Dublin and G&Ts in Spain. 

And this is just the beginning. 

I want to share my experiences with you. I want to translate what I see, hear, taste and feel into words to transport you to where I am. 

I invite you to come away with me.