USA

Road Trip South from New York to Florida

Contrary to popular belief Americans do travel. Though not overwhelmingly visible overseas, there exists a national preoccupation the good ole' American Road Trip. Chances are, if you're an American, you've experienced this phenomena in some form or fashion, whether it's a drive from Ohio to Indiana to visit grandma,  a weekend trip from California to Las Vegas, or a true blue cross-country drive from Washington State to Maine.

My first road trips manifested themselves as treks from Rochester, New York to Southern Maryland to visit my grandparents. My first major road trip came in college, when a group of friends and I drove from Niagara Falls, New York where we went to school, to Opelika, Alabama to participate in a protest. That was an invigorating ride. A bunch of college kids crammed in a van, swapping stories, snacks, singing songs, taking pictures. I was fascinated by the culinary differences as we forged further south, food became heartier, more savory, and came in enormous portions usually drenched in sauce. One of my favorite road trips was a simple drive up the California coast in 2002, when a friend and I took the long way from San Francisco to Los Angeles. As an east coast girl, I was romanced by the landscape. The colors were so vibrant, the contrast between the ocean and the hills took my breath away. I remember falling in love with the exotic breezy Californian coast.  One of the beautiful things about the vast land mass that is America, is that you don't have to leave the county to experience different climates, geographic phenomena, cultures, food, sights and sounds. The deserts of New Mexico after all, can be a life altering exotic experience to a person from, say, Harrisburg, PA.

For the holidays, my husband and I found ourselves hitting the open road on a sojourn southwards, one that took us from Brooklyn, New York to Orlando, Florida. It was a beautiful ride. I was able to knit two scarves. I was able to throw my head back while waving my bare feet out of the window beneath the warm southern sun. I sang (much to the annoyance of everyone else in the car) at the top of my lungs to every playlist on my i-phone. There were many wonderful stops along the way, including Christmas with family at our home in Brandywine, Maryland, an idyllic afternoon in Savannah, Georgia,  a sophisticated evening in Charleston, South Carolina, and ringing in New Years with Mark's family in Orlando, Florida.

In many ways, this post could be called "A Tale of Two Americas." That small mid-Atlantic stretch along the I-95, illustrated the cultural and regional diversity that makes America so fascinating and complex. Neighbors by proximity, the cultural, linguistic, and geographic distinctions that divide the borders between the north and the south can create the feeling at times that one is exploring a foreign and exotic new world. On the southern side, life moved slower, the sun warmed the winds as if it were spring, anything it seemed was game to be killed and barbecued,  moss draped elegantly from low languid trees,  regional pralines were a prized delicacy and everything seemed to be followed with a sweet drippy "y'all."

Our journey took 72 hours each way as we took our time exploring  the sites and cities that sparked our imagination. We were also totting a 16 month-old backseat driver who was just as curious as we were about our Southern neighbors and their usually refreshing brand of hospitality.

If you find yourself traveling south along I-95, you may want to check out:

George Washington's birthplace in Westmoreland County, Virginia

Richmond, Virginia (check out Monument Avenue)

Charleston, South Carolina (enjoy a lovely meal by the water, or check out the fancy shops and boutiques near the University of Charleston)

Tuskegee Airman Monument in Walterboro, South Carolina

Koger Plantation in Dorchester County, South Carolina

Frampton Plantation House in South Carolina

The Kingdom of Oyotunji: An African Kingdom in South Carolina

Savannah, Georgia (head downtown to Historic Savannah, and check out the restaurants and shops along the water)

Daytona Beach, Florida (DOLPHINS! Romantic sunset)

For tips on how to plan your next road trip, visit www.roadtripamerica.com.

Happy Trails!

Seattle's Original Pyramid Ale House- An Inside Look

Introducing my awesome cousin-in-law Master Chef Marcos Villagran!

Okay, maybe that's not a real title, the cousin-in-law part that is. Either way, Marcos is the brilliant head Chef at Seattle's original Pyramid Brewery.

Pyramid Breweries Seattle Alehouse is the original Pyramid Brewery site. Doubling as a brewery and restaurant/alehouse, the restaurant is popular amongst locals looking for a specialty brew, savory bar food and a place to watch the game.

There's also a beer garden.

This is where the magic happens. Pyramid produces award-winning beer. They've been winning awards consistently since 1985 for their quality brews. The Pacific Northwest has a distinct brew culture and at Pyramid, there is a lot of brewer's pride.  It was clear that Pyramid wasn't your standard chain sports bar establishment that shoveled forth mediocre burgers and Budweiser. Here you can find a complex bar menu, one that relies on their prized brew to enhance the flavor of the food. Pyramid is a place for the beer connoisseur, a place where food is expertly paired with complimentary beers.

Located directly across from Safeco Field, home of the Seattle Mariners, and just a block south of Qwest Field, Pyramid is the place to hang out for a pre or post game meal, or if you're not lucky enough to score tickets, serves as the perfect vantage point from which to join in the frenzied action at the bar.

Ohm wasn't very excited about the beer, he's more of a milk guy. Brielle, on the other hand, was thrilled.

After our tour, we got to sit down and have lunch with the chef! The food was awesome. My turkey burger was tender and the fries were really yummy. No complaints from this gal! As I'm not really a beer drinker, I didn't order one of my own, but Mark and Marcos were very happy with their selections. Back to the food, there are vegan and gluten-free options (love it! just saying).

After lunch, it was back to work for the chef!

Brielle, Mark, and I, waddled off our meal with some downtown Seattle sightseeing.

Pyramid Alehouse, Brewery & Restaurant 1201 First Avenue South Seattle, WA 98134
(206) 682-3377

Explore Seattle's Funky Neighborhoods

No trip to the Seattle region is complete without exploring the beautiful neighborhoods surrounding the city.

Washington state is breathtaking.

Luckily my cousin Brielle and my friend Elisha were amazing tour guides who not only showed me the heart of Seattle, but the beauty of the surrounding areas as well.

Ohm and Brielle before our Vegan brunch

Loved these meditation cards. Each card had a quote about peace or inner-reflection. Excellent talking points. Sometimes it's the little things.

Silence-Heart-Nest, not only served up amazing Vegan and Vegetarian food, they were ready for my toddler. Not only did he get a high-chair and sippy cup, but they came out with toys for him to play with- right on! He was happy and I was able to chitty-chat with Brielle.

Catching up with Elisha in Ballard

The Carl S. English Jr. Botanical Garden - really beautiful

The Hiram M. Chittenden Locks in Ballard- Fish conservation project

The Troll under the bridge in Fremont

Neighborhoods Visited: Fremont (North of downtown)  and Ballard (North West of downtown) Washington

I loved Freemont's bohemian, quirky personality. Freemont is a wonderful place to go shopping. It's lined with boutiques that surprisingly (at least compared to NY) were not too expensive. Freemont is also a great place to grab Vegetarian food or to relax and people watch at a cafe.

Ballard was absolutely picturesque. Right on the water, the views, the sunset, were all truly astonishing. Ballard was super family friendly.

The Seattle, Washington region is lovely and worthy of exploring. This is a wonderful city for a family vacation.

What to see and do at Pike Place Market

I must have visited the Pike Place Market every day that I was in Seattle.

Besides being a lover of all things by the water, and all things locally owned and of farmer's markets and flea markets, I fell in love with Pike Place's quirky and eclectic finds.

Here's what my Pike Place adventures looked like.

The Pike Place Market is a great place to go to grab a good meal, do some window shopping, or simply hang out and gaze at the water. The Market is super kid friendly and is an inexpensive (contingent upon what you buy) way to spend a great afternoon in Seattle.

Have you been? What were your impressions?

 

 

 

Impromptu Wine Tasting in Seattle

I really don't do a whole lot of planning when I take a trip. Barring securing a hotel, I did no planning whatsoever for Seattle.

How did I set out to see the city?

Well, I grabbed all of the brochures in the hotel lobby, I questioned the hotel front desk workers with the intensity of a defense attorney, and I allowed my cousin Brielle and my friend Elisha (both enthusiastic residents) to show me their beloved city.

Usually the best things are not planned. Such was the case when Brielle, Mark, Ohm and I found ourselves engaging in an exquisite and intimate impromptu wine, cheese, and fruit tasting.

The Scene:

Down the street from the Seattle Space Needle

If you look really closely, you'll spot Brielle, Ohm and I posing in a random parking lot.

The Place:

THE CHEESE CELLAR

www.thecheesecellar.com

100 4th Avenue North, Suite 150 Seattle, WA 98109 Phone (206) 404 2743

Unobtrusively tucked inside a small plaza, we just happened to glance at the window and like children in a candy store spotted floor to ceiling walls of wine.

The Cheese Cellar was calling our name. The staff was super friendly. We got a quick briefing on the local wines. We were educated about the merits of sheep's milk and cheeses.

The shop was empty and very baby friendly. Brielle entertained Ohm, as Mark and I drooled over the wine.

Intending to only get a glass each, we found ourselves seated at the large communal table in the center of the shop, a platter of locally crafted goodies before us.

What was on our plate?

Pure goodness!

We were given a selection of artisanal cheeses, local cured meats, and savory olives.

Brielle drank a Chardonnay,  Mark drank a Cabernet, Ohm had almond milk and I had Merlot. Wine in hand, we slurped, cackled and laughed while delighting in the gifts on our platter. There was plenty to go around.

To my surprise, I learned my one year old is a fan of olives and goat cheese.

It was all so very good.

The Cheese Cellar was a wonderful find.

Walking Seattle

 

Seattle, it turns out, is a very pedestrian friendly city. Seattle, it also turns out, with its many hills and steep inclines, is a city that resembles a level ten treadmill course. With Ohm, strapped to me in his Ergo carrier like a twenty pound weight, my time walking the streets of Seattle felt a lot like boot camp.

Unlike boot camp, I had the pleasure of sipping lattes and taking my time as I strolled the piers, jaunted up and down the fancy downtown, and rambled around the outer districts.

Seattle is a cool city. Holding the best of both worlds, it is distinctly gritty and urban, and stunningly beautiful. A place for hip singles and young families, Seattle has a culture of its own, and despite being super friendly, it possesses a definite edge.

Seattle I've decided is a lot like a cup of Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee, deeply satisfying, ultra stimulating, with surprising notes of bitterness undercut by aromatic tones.

Visiting the Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge

At last I spotted my moose. Of course I had to visit the Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge to see one. Here the moose have acres to roam. It's a step up from a zoo.

I felt guilty looking at the reindeer. I had just eaten one for breakfast. I am now working on my karma.

Brawl at the watering hole

Come on, break it up you two!

After all of the "Warning Bears" signs that I came across, I did not see one bear until I visited the Coastal Wildlife Refuge.

This guy stood on cue

Okay, have you seen anything cuter than this? These little guys were orphaned and are being rehabilitated.

This guy spotted me from about forty feet away and began to charge. I think he thought I was competition. First he stared me down, then he let out a loud guttural groan, and then he charged at me.

And the wildest creature of them all, my little Ohm. He had a great time looking at all of the animals.

 

Visiting the Alaskan Glaciers

Glacier: noun <gley-sher>

- an extended mass of ice formed from snow falling and accumulating over the years and moving very slowly, either descending from high mountains, as in valley glaciers, or moving outward from centers of accumulation, as in continental glaciers.

Note: A glacier is not an ice burg!

I was desperate for an outdoor tour. I wanted to see Alaska up-close, I wanted water, I wanted mountains, I wanted animals, but it was mid-September and most tours were closed for the year.

I was in the Alaska visitor center in downtown Anchorage, flipping through pamphlets when the lady who worked there remembered one tour that was possibly still operating. After a phone call to confirm, she gave me an offer, a four-hour glacier adventure. Glacier adventure I considered, envisioning icebergs and the crystal ocean, polar bears and the experience of a lifetime. I was sold. No questions were asked. Two tickets were purchased. The tour operator would be at my hotel lobby at noon.

 

"We're going to see icebergs! The man will be here to pick us up in an hour."

I delivered this news with enthusiasm as I charged my SONY. I couldn't wait to take pictures.

"Wow, we're going to see icebergs?"

Mark began to glow with enthusiasm as well. After all we'd never seen icebergs, we live in Brooklyn.

In the lobby of the hotel, we were approached by a man.

"Are you the Williams'?"

"Yes."

"I'm Sheldon, your guide."

Mark and I exchanged grins. It was go time.

Sheldon led us to a minivan parked outside of the hotel. Like a kid being lured with a lollypop, I hopped right in, buckled my seat belt, and situated my camera on my lap.

Mark, a Brooklyn native, looked nervous and after questioning Sheldon in hushed tones,  joined me in the van.

"I can't believe you just got into this guy's van. We don't know him. I don't see a company logo. He has no id. You're as bad as a kid. He could drive us out in the middle of the wilderness, rob us and leave us. I don't trust this."

Before I could respond Sheldon took his place behind the steering wheel and off we went. All was well, Sheldon was a professional certified independent tour guide. My paranoid New Yorker husband began to relax. We were off, we were heading to the icebergs and we were going to have a wonderful time.

We wound through mountain chains and down narrow slippery roads until without warning Sheldon pulled over.

"Okay, here is our first stop."

Mark and I exchanged worried glances. Perhaps my jaded New Yorker husband was on to something. Perhaps we were going to be robbed and left on the side of the road right here in the middle of nowhere.

"But we're on the side of the road."

My voice was shaky.

"Yep, and that over there is your first glacier."

Sheldon pointed in the distance to an icy mountain.

"That's our glacier?"

My eyes strained in an effort to understand what I was looking at.

"Yep, that's it."

"Where is this glacier?" Mark asked suspiciously

"Right there. Can't you see it." Sheldon pointed. "It's right on the side of the mountain."

"Wait. What is a glacier?"

"A glacier is a solid mas of ice."

My heart sank.

"Oh. So what is an iceberg?"

"An iceberg starts off as a glacier but then it detaches and floats on the water."

"Oh. Are we going to see icebergs?"

"Nope."

"Can we see icebergs?"

"Oh, no miss, this is a glacier tour."

"I see."

And I could also see my husband narrowing his eyes at me.

"We paid this man two hundred dollars to show us ice sliding down mountains?" he whispered incredulously once Sheldon's back was turned.

And so it was.

Once we got over the initial disappointment we had a great time. The glaciers were beautiful. The mountains were majestic.

 

 

Salmon swimming upstream.

And most importantly I learned something, a glacier is not an iceberg!

Visit Anchorage Alaska

   

        This was the extent of my moose spotting!

 

      My first taste of a reindeer hotdog. Sooooo incredibly delicious.

        Reindeer is both sweet and savory.

    Bears both stuffed and statues were ubiquitous sightings around Anchorage.

The Anchorage trolley is wonderful because for $15 dollars, it will take visitors to points of interest around the city. It will also transport visitors to the Native Heritage Center outside of town.

Everywhere, there were reminders of Alaskan native people. Unfortunately, the Native Heritage Center was not open.

Poor Ohm, already subjected to his mommy's love for corny photo ops. He was less than impressed- as usual.

Ohm took his first independent walk here in Anchorage. He had his first sidewalk spill here as well.

There were many overcast days :(

The Alaska visitor center is a great resource

The streets of Anchorage were kind of eerily deserted. It wasn't that cold out?!?

 

“Alaska, The Last Frontier”

 

The air is thin and weighted by the heavy aroma of spruce sap. Golden are the mountains, the horizon, and the sharp leaves of the sycamore maple. The chill though not overpowering, is immediate, punctuated by the coastal wind.

 

Alaska is an exotic northern wonder. Clean, crisp, rugged, and hearty, it’s the kind of place that welcomes you warmly with open arms and leaves it’s mark.

 

Anchorage is a charming small “big city.” Quaint and spread out, Anchorage is tourist friendly, family friendly, foodie friendly, beer connoisseur friendly, eco-friendly and an all around great place to launch your exploration of Alaska.

 

Anchorage has no shortage of good food. There a dozens of locally owned restaurants to choose from. When dining out, you must sample the fresh salmon, you’ve got to try reindeer, and you should sample the local favorite- sourdough flapjacks. If you’re a beer drinker, you’ll be at home in Anchorage. It seemed every restaurant boasted a home brew. The taps were literally overflowing.

 

Anchorage is full of nature trails. You can walk or rent a bike and venture out for the day. Now the locals will tell you that you can spot a moose or a bear on any given day, but don’t get your hopes up too high. I didn’t have one single sighting and I tried, I tried so badly. I was there for ten days and nothing. Apparently the spring brings the most sightings.

 

Speaking of seasons, you need to plan your trip to Alaska based upon the season. Here’s a tip, and it’s a big tip, the best time to visit Anchorage (depending on what you want) is between late spring and late summer if you would like to see the cultural sites and go on tours. Many of the tours and sites close for the winter due to the drop in tourism and let’s be real, the frigid temperatures. Winter, is the time to visit if you’d like to experience the northern light show – (aurora borealis) however.  I visited in mid-September and most of the tours had just finished for the year. I really wanted to visit the Native Heritage Center, which was closed and I was a week late to take advantage of the free downtown trolley tours.  There was also a really cool looking haunted ghost tour that I wanted to take but I was a week late for that as well. September was too early in the year to see the aurora borealis but it was the perfect time to see one of the most beautiful autumn leave displays I’ve ever seen. I can’t complain, I simply have to return.

 

 

 

 

Discovering Anchorage Alaska; Tony Knowles Coastal Trail

Your boots squeak as you walk atop the soggy trail. The road looks like a festive mocha cake, with vibrant autumn leave sprinkles. You have more energy than you know what to do with. It must be the air you think. The crisp coolness, the light clean wisps propel you forward.

 

You try to quiet your feet. You move slowly attempting to blend into the scenery. You hope for a wildlife spotting. Nothing too feral, no bears, but a moose will do.

 

You feel like the only human in the world. The sky has never been so clear, so blue. The water, almost black, does not move.  The wind rustles the golden leaves, the remaining ones, the fighters who cling defiantly to skinny slate branches.

 

Delicately you continue onward, rambling, following the trail as it winds around neighborhoods, past parks. You are stunned by the occasional shocks of red- berries, clustered against an otherwise grey backdrop.

 

A bald eagle perches on a tree to your left. You stop to stare. The bird is larger than you would have imagined. You’re grateful for the fact that it seems preoccupied by it’s prey, something in the marsh, you can’t see. You are so close you can look into its beady eyes. You hold your breath. Waiting for the swoop. Instead it returns to the sky. The moment has passed.

 

You continue onward. Approaching a clearing you find yourself gazing across the opal water at a massive chain of mountains. The more you blink, the clearer the chain becomes. It appears to reach the sky.

 

A beaver breaks through the surface of the water startling you. Your exhale, sharp and sudden releases a smoky trail reminding you how cold it is. The beaver dives beneath the water and appears once again. He, or possibly she, carries twigs in her mouth and piles them at the corner of the embankment.

 

Your ears perk up. You are suddenly aware of the fact that you’re not alone. Something rustles in the bushes behind you. Your heart races, you prepare your camera. You just know you are about to be face to face with a large majestic moose. You prepare your lens for the zoom.

 

It grows quiet. You wait patiently for your prize. Suddenly, in a flash of excited sandy energy, your moose bursts forth. Only your moose isn’t a moose, it’s a golden retriever followed by its two jogging owners who greet you with cheer and vigor.

 

You’ve been walking for an hour, lost in thought. Slowly your fingers have grown numb, your nose is running. It is time to head back.

 

It has been a fine morning, a calm cool, stimulating morning, remarkable in all the right small ways. You didn’t spot your moose, but the trail shared her many other gifts. You are not disappointed.

Destination South Street Seaport

I've always been a huge fan of New York's South Street Seaport. Away from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, the seaport is breezy, nautical, and reminiscent of a 20th century port.

 

When I first moved to New York, I would often take the train from Harlem and set up camp on the pier with a novel or my writing journal. The seaport offered beautiful scenery, free outdoor events, and a wonderful break from the chaos of many New York neighborhoods.

 

Definitely worth a visit, there is no shortage of things to do at the seaport. Prepare to spend hours here.

The cobblestone streets are lined with shops, the pier is dotted with restaurants offering menus ranging from the fresh catch of the day to authentic-ish Mexican.

 

There is a scenic walkway and park right on the water with excellent views of the Brooklyn bridge. In the summer you can enjoy outdoor concerts. If you are in the mood for a quick tour of New York's waterways, several tours leave from the Seaport, including the popular Water Taxi. There is a Seaport Museum as well as a museum hosting the world-famous Bodies exhibit.

For those holiday enthusiasts, the seaport turns into a picturesque Christmas village in the winter.

Whenever you choose to come,  wonderful moments await you at the South Street Seaport.

Head  on down here!

Stone Street, Manhattan

In the center of old New York you’ll find a narrow cobblestone street that is the very embodiment of old-fashioned charm and quirk.

Introducing - Stone street, a hip pedestrian-only strip oozing 19th century charm, modern elegance and a carefree vitality not commonly associated with New York’s Wall Street neighborhood.

First established by the Dutch in the 16oo's, Stone street has been transformed into an easygoing alleyway, boasting bars, restaurants and fabulous shops.

In the summer, spring, and fall, you can enjoy alfresco dining and abundant people watching.

No visit to Stone Street is complete without a trip to Financier. If you like French pastries, in particular macarons, then this is the place for you.

 

 

On the Merits of Boston Cream Pie

There is something so sinfully indulgent about a decadent and rich dessert. One such dessert can change ones outlook from bleak to optimistic, can slowly whittle away at the sorrows of the world, if taken (quite appropriately in my opinion) before dinner, can make the blandest dish surprisingly tolerable. I love a good dessert.

While in Boston recently, I made it my business to indulge in the official dessert of Massachusetts (fact check me, this is true!)- the legendary Boston Cream Pie.

Not actually a pie at all, but a cake, this magnificent concoction was presented to the world in 1856 by pastry chef M. Sanzian who worked at the Omni Parker House. Ornate and decadent in it's own rite, it is only fitting that such a landmark be the birth place of the Boston Cream Pie.

As the home of the original Boston Cream Pie, the Omni Parker House boasts the best pies in Massachusetts. Served by the slice, whole or as mini individual cakes, you have options when it comes to savoring your official dessert. Opting for a mini individual cake, my senses were delighted upon first sight and first whiff.

My knife sliced effortlessly through the center revealing two layers of moist yellow cake, a thick center of creamy rich custard and a thin spread of dark chocolate glaze. The texture, the flavors, blended perfectly in my mouth. The sweet vanilla of the custard, the intense dark chocolate glaze and the buttery cake braided together and danced on my tongue.

There is something so satisfying about a great dessert. The original Boston Cream Pie at the Omni Parker House is well worth a visit to Boston.

The Omni Parker House

60 School Street

Boston, Massachusetts

Go!

 

Hartford, Connecticut: A Partial Photo Essay with some musings on the side

  My blog is called Sojourner’s Sojourns, but in reality these days I am rarely just Sojourner. A time not long ago I was simply Sojourner, a curious traveler, often going solo, usually volunteering, most likely you’d find me in a rural village, bare feet in red earth or floating on my back in the ocean.

 

Now, I travel always with Ohm, my ten-month-old co-conspirator. He’s a great wingman, a cheerful and easy-going companion. Now, I travel often with Mark, my husband, my partner in crime. Our travel personalities are compatible -usually. After three days I drive him crazy; I’m an interactive traveler, he prefers repose.

 

I have to take breaks often when I travel with Ohm. Unable to see and do everything, I’ve started to rely on Mark to capture images for me. He’s not too shabby.  He thinks he’s ready to go pro.

 

While in Hartford recently, due to the Puerto Rican Day parade and a certain Mr. Cranky Pants who is cutting his top teeth, I wasn’t able to shoot as many pictures as needed to complete my photo essay. In stepped Mark who captured the following images. Here is our photo essay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK MINUTE

I was recently looking through my short pieces of fiction to see where I could fill the dead spots in a collection of stories I'm currently working on. While this piece, "New York Minute" didn't make the cut, I figured I'd make a space for it here on the blog. "New York Minute" is a slightly (very slightly)  fictionalized re-telling of an incident that happened a few seasons back.

 

The afternoon was promising. It was one of those rare November days where you could smell the memory of summer in the wind bursts that placidly came and went. It was as if summer had taken an encore. Everyone and everything seemed to glow from within.  We had stumbled upon one of those ever elusive, November, your coat is optional, get up and join all of the happy people in the street before it gets too cold, days.

I enjoy showing off my city, the real city, the splendor and grit that lays beyond the insanity that is Times Square. I relished visits from out of town guests. Hailing from Japan, my group was ecstatic. On their first full day in New York, they were drinking in the full Manhattan experience. Playing tour guide, I led our expedition through narrow crowded streets, over brown mystery puddles, in and out of quirky shops, pointing out my favorite restaurants and bars along the way.

Making a right turn onto Ludlow from Houston, we had a plan. We were on a mission to sample the sweet goodness in the display case at my favorite cupcake bakery.

Suddenly, two teenagers darted out of a skateboarding shop, breaking our stride. That was when I heard the sound, a sound I will never forget. My ears rang as a guttural hacking noise, familiar in a sickening way filled the space around us. I looked up just in time to see one of the teenage boys, one of the cutter-offers, hack an enormous phlegm ball over his left shoulder.

Did I mention there was wind? Did I mention the wind was blowing in my direction and that I stood directly behind the boy’s left shoulder? Did I mention that I was mid-sentence, still raving about the cupcakes we were on our way to try?

What happened next, happened so quickly, I barely had time to react. The phlegm particles, foamy white and sticky began to divide in the air as they flew in the direction of my face. I was powerless. My central nervous system entirely and systematically shut down as I felt the saliva and mucous of a stranger spray my lips and nose. There was nothing I could do to brace myself.

Tamika and Makiko stared helplessly, silently as I ran down the list of possible diseases that could result from having someone spit in your mouth. My lips were teeming. But there was nothing that I could do.

And in a move that surprised me, I took a deep breath through my nose, wiped my face with my scarf, and continued to direct my walking tour. I felt disgusting, I felt violated, but more definitively, I was resilient. Three paces later, I turned to my horrified friends, put on a charming smile and announced, “Welcome to New York!”

 

 

 

Rochester, New York's Annual Lilac Festival

   

Rochester, New York has been nicknamed the “Lilac Capital of the World”, one visit to the annual Lilac Festival and you’ll understand why.

 

 

Rochester is lovely in the spring. Perhaps nowhere, at this time is she lovelier than in Highland Park, where as April transitions to May, the park morphs from rolling green hills to the grand stage for the famous fragrant lilac bush displays.

 

Established by mere coincidence in 1898, when 3,000 people turned up at Highland Park to view the picturesque assortment of lavender, rose and cream colored lilacs; Rochester’s Lilac Festival is a source of city pride and tradition.

What began in 1892, as a showcase of 20 varieties of lilac bushes arranged by horticulturist John Dunbar, has grown into an internationally renowned spectacle paying reverence to no less than 500 lilac varieties. Lilac loving visitors flock to Rochester crossing cities, states and continents, to experience the beauty of Highland Park’s famous lilacs first-hand.

 

 

 

In addition to lilacs, you’ll find music, entertainment, child-friendly activities, horse carriage rides through the park, food, lilac wine tasting events, lilac soaps, perfumes and other lilac inspired products.

If you want to be swept up in the romance of the spring season, Rochester’s Lilac Festival is the destination for you.

24 Hours in Cleveland, Ohio

Upon first introduction, slate nondescript high-rises, predictable chain stores, overcast gray expanses of boarded up nothingness, I feared Cleveland would, as I somehow expected be a disappointing bore.

“Today for you, it will be more than 70 degrees,” the cabbie declared in broken English as he zipped down a series of deserted coal streets.

 

I smiled back, hoping Cleveland would give me more to look forward to than lovely weather. It wasn’t looking good.

 

It turned out the cabbie was right about the weather. After a somewhat disappointing breakfast, the sun came out, and the city transitioned from drear to brilliant blues and greens.

 

Constructed during a time of immense prosperity due in large part to the industrial boom and its prime location on Lake Erie, Cleveland is a sprawling suburban city seeped in history, the arts, industry, and scientific innovation.

 

10 am The Cleveland Museum of Art, 11150 East Boulevard

In the heart of Cleveland’s University Circle neighborhood, nestled behind a picturesque pond, sits the Cleveland Museum of Art. Before you can make your way to the museum’s doors, you are greeted on the front courtyard by art. Birds bathed in fountains, children splashed in the water at the base of statues, couples cuddled on antique cast iron benches beneath the undulating shade of willows, university students gathered on the steps of the museum with textbooks and novels. The theme of the morning was serenity.

Inside, the museum is divided into three immaculately maintained levels. The focus is  primarily centered on  European Art. I was taken by the extreme detail in some of the paintings. People and landscapes popped off the canvas. Ohm, my eight month old, was charmed by the stained glass displays. He was all giggles and smiles when it came to the bright colors and intricate designs.

There is a small collection of art and artifacts from Egypt, Asia and Africa and a special Rembrandt exhibit is currently being featured. The Rembrandt collection can be visited for a fee, otherwise the museum is free to the public.

 

12:00 pm Stroll through Wade Park, 11150 East Boulevard

Outside the doors of the Cleveland Museum of Art sits a Victorian inspired park dotted with fountains and bird-baths. I felt as though I had walked into a Monet painting set in modern times.  Ohm and I strolled the manicured walking paths. Butterflies circled our heads as they flitted from flower to flower. Chatty clusters of ducks and geese waddled by our side (one a little too close). In the center of the park you'll find a large irregularly shaped pond. Wade Park would have been the perfect setting for a picnic had I brought a basket and some lunch.

 

 

3:00 pm Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame, 1100 Rock and Roll Boulevard

We headed downtown, to see the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame next. Cleveland claims to be  the birth place of Rock and Roll. For lack of a better simile, The Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame is like a massive Hard Rock Café. Memorabilia covered every possible surface. The museum, which is positioned above Lake Erie, was an  interesting blend of history and pop culture. Exhibits were interactive and informative. I learned about Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton, the original voice behind rock n’ roll songs like “Hound Dog.”

 

 

5:00 pm Self-Guided Walking Tour of Cleveland Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument

 

Downtown Cleveland has a lot of surprises. Yes, half of the city is, quite deserted, boarded up even, but there are pockets of life. The architecture is simply stunning. The streets are wide and accommodating. Art installations could be found all over the city, from the iconic free stamp, to the Jazz band statues, to the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Monument in public square.

A history nerd, I visited the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ monument which was erected to commemorate the courage of the Union Soldiers and the Cuyahoga County sailors in the War of the Rebellion. At the center of the monument sits a small museum that is free to the public. Above the museum, monument  statues dangled lifeless and haunting in their precise detail and realism.

 

7:00 pm “Come Fly Away” performance at the Palace Theatre in Playhouse Square, 501 Euclid Avenue

 

My husband, as I’ve mentioned before, is a member of the “Come Fly Away” orchestra (hence our visit to Cleveland to begin with). In Cleveland, the show was featured  at the historic and beautifully restored Palace Theatre. Originally a vaudeville theatre and movie house,  The Palace now hosts touring shows off the Broadway circuit. Next up “Mamma Mia.”

 

 

9:00 pm Dinner on 4th Street

 

Where do you go for food in Cleveland? That’s a great question. I was lost for breakfast and lunch.  I stuck to my usual method of asking locals for suggestions about where to go and what to do and I was met with blank stares and smirks. Nothing  and I mean nothing was open. There was a Starbucks and a CVS that sold snacks. The situation was desperate. The majority of the restaurants cater to the 9-5, M-F crowd. If you find yourself in Cleveland on a weekend during the day- good luck! There is one solution to the food problem in Cleveland however 4th street. Fourth street right off of Euclid is home to a score of festive restaurants and bars that open in the late afternoon and evening for dinner, drinks and beyond. We went to Noodle Cat, a trendy Japanese restaurant specializing in you guessed it- noodles. The food was great.

 

11:00 pm Drinks at Chocolate Bar, 347 Euclid Avenue

 

I’m a huge chocoholic and I enjoy a good drink, Chocolate Bar was the answer to my evening. I had a mocha crepe for desert and a chocolate martini. My creamy chocolate martini was the perfect end to my day in Cleveland, Ohio.

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Cleveland remains an enigma. A city of the industrial revolution, down on its luck since the 60’s, there is still a presence, a sense of grandeur, and a haunting emptiness. A bit stand-offish, straightforward and user-friendly, Cleveland is a city that is shuffling to re-emerge and re-claim her lost glory. As I’ve said before, Cleveland, I’m rooting for you.

 

 

24 Hours in Charlotte

“Wait, where are you?”

“Charlotte.”

“Why are you in Charlotte?”

I was in Charlotte because my amazingly talented trombonist husband recently joined the orchestra of the touring company of “Come Fly Away.”  Long tours can be difficult on a relationship, especially now that our little-one is part of our family equation. The solution, Sojourner and Ohm tag along with daddy on the weekends as he finishes the American leg of the tour. The international leg begins this summer and we’ll be able to tag along for the entire adventure (woot woot!) But before I get ahead of myself, let me focus on Charlotte.

Perhaps because I spend so much time in New York, Southern hospitality truly warms my heart and disarms me. Charlotte is the quintessential Southern gentleman (with a woman’s name). Having little to offer by way of character, the city of Charlotte is tremendously hospitable, user-friendly, and appreciative of a good time. My first 24 hours in Charlotte went something like this:

 

9:00 am Breakfast at Café Sienna (230 N College Street

Charlotte, NC 28202)

New York has spoiled me. I love a good slow breakfast/brunch. Café Sienna, didn’t quite cut it. There was a shortage of breakfast options in our Center City location. Café Sienna drew us in because we were hungry and because they boasted a tremendous breakfast menu. Unfortunately, what looked lovely on paper was quite mediocre on the tongue. Eggo waffles on a restaurant plate anyone?

 

11:00 am Stroll to and through the Charlotte Regional Farmer’s Market (Yorkmont Road)

The Charlotte Regional Farmer’s Market was just my speed. Intimate and saturated with local flavor, the market bursts full of vibrant flowers, fragrant local produce, savory and sweet baked goods and subtly aromatic herbs,. It reminded me of a quaint central market. I love the idea of buying local when I travel. The Charlotte Regional Farmer’s Market is definitely the place to mingle with locals and stimulate the area economy.

 

1:00 pm Lunch at Nikko Japanese Restaurant & Sushi Bar (1300 South Blvd. Charlotte, NC 28203)

Nikko’s didn’t disappoint. The food was delicious. Nikko’s had a great selection of sushi and a surprisingly satisfying wine list (normally a red girl, I strayed off my usual course, lured by their Mazzeti Moscato, it was great!). We sat outside on charming cast iron café tables. The weather, by this point in the afternoon was a perfect 80 degrees with the right amount of breeze. The entire time we were there, Charlotte seemed alive with a light breathy breeze (not a blow your hat off breeze, or a puff your skirt up breeze , but a gentle, refreshing swirl of fresh air originating from a mysterious point far off in some unknown distance.

 

4:00 pm Carriage Ride  (Tryon St., between 6th & 7th St. (by Discovery Place).

The carriage ride, which lasted about an hour was entertaining, but relatively uneventful. Our horse trotted slowly down the streets of Uptown Charlotte. The older buildings of what they term “Old Charlotte” were beautiful architectural treasures. Unfortunately, most of what we saw was the “New Charlotte,” which was shiny, modern, and quite honestly a bit boring. Charlotte is home to a large variety of specialty boutique shops. If you’re a shopper, you can definitely find a lot of unique local goods and wares.

 

7:00 pm “Come Fly Away” Show at the Belk Theatre at the Blumenthal Performing Arts Center

 

The Belk Theatre is absolutely stunning. From the ornate jade and coral interior to the state of the art theatre space, it is a wonderful venue to catch one of the many Broadway touring shows that make their way through the city.  I saw “Come Fly Away” which was very well done. I’m a big Twyla Tharp fan and her choreography didn’t disappoint. Next on the roster, I believe was “Warhorse”. The list is constantly changing as the theatre hosts a steady rotation of shows. Another bonus, is it’s prime location, in the center of the city,  making it easily  walkable  from many hotels and in the direct proximity of a variety of after-show restaurants.

 

9:00 Dinner at Mert’s Heart and Soul (214 N. College Street, Charlotte, NC 28202)

Whenever we asked locals where to go for dinner they mentioned Mert’s. Approaching Mert's doors, we could make out the sweet aroma of cornbread, savory sauces and the unmistakable, crispy scent of things being fried. Mert’s was packed. The service was a bit haphazard and slow, but the food was great. Little Ohm finished off a complete side dish of mashed potatoes. I was a big fan of the macaroni and cheese and the greens ( I actually didn’t really think my fried fish was all that remarkable). Mark was all about the sweet tea and the ribs. Whatever your preference, Mert’s should fill you up and leave you satisfied and in need of a wheelbarrow to transport you home.

If eleven is too early for you to turn in, Charlotte bursts to life at night. Preppy frat boys slowly begin to take over street corners, as gangs of drunken women, who by the way get quite dressed up for a night out (I saw several women in their twenties wear pearls to the bar) parade through the streets staggering and weaving into each other. Charlotte is a peculiar, yet friendly and spirited place to creep about at night.