St. Patrick's Day, NYC

There's no place like The Big Apple to spend St. Patrick's Day. This was my first St. Paddy's in the city, and it was everything I expected.

The day started out with a quick stroll down the East River, then an unplanned trip uptown to see the St. Patrick's Day Parade. The river was beautiful, there were hardly any other people around, and they day was perfect for wandering around outside. The parade was crazy, hectic, full of green, full of beer, full of music, and full of smiles. Everybody's happy on St. Patrick's Day, just like everybody's Irish. I made the acquittance of 4 strangers who kindly told me that I was walking in the opposite direction of the parade (I still haven't mastered the city streets). We walked there together, shared stories and laughs, then tunneled through the crowd to find a decent place to stand and watch the parade. The songs of bagpipes and drums carried over the noise of thousands of voices, and with it the spirit of the Irish. Flags held high above marchers could be seen from the back row, igniting some Irish pride even in those with no Irish heritage.

As much as I wanted to stay, obligation called and I had to make my way to class. The laughs didn't end with the parade, however. I passed a guy typing on his phone and his shirt caught my eye. A simple green shamrock with a heading in green letters reading "Winning" marked the front. The clear allusion to Charlie Sheen's recent antics made me laugh out loud. Then I saw the back of the shirt - "Let's get Sheenfaced.". I had no choice, I went back and asked the guy if I could take his picture. I really hope he stumbles upon this blog post some day.

Boston

This post  is a little overdue, but hey, better late than never, right?

My trip to Boston was very spontaneous and undertaken with very little preparation. With only a few days between my idea to go, my decision to go, and my departure date I couldn't find anyone to venture back to continental USA with me, so Boston was a solo adventure. 

The trip began as so many do, with a missed train to Manhattan, begging the guy at the bus terminal (more like street corner) to let me take a later bus since I obviously missed the one I planned on, and an hour wait in line. Yet it all worked out and 5 hours after leaving the terminal I got off the bus at South Station in Boston. The first thing that struck me was the cold. Now, having just survived the infamous New York January I thought I was more than equipped to handle a long weekend in Boston. Unfortunately, I didn't' account for the vicious wind in that little city. But I managed with my inadequate clothing, hopped on the subway and found my way to the apartment of some strangers where I was staying.

First stop - Harvard Square. Filled with bookstores and coffee shops, Harvard Square is a perfect way to end a long day of traveling for a nerd like me. I had dinner at some historical burger joint whose name I can't remember, but with a cash-only policy I ended up dining on cheese fries for dinner and walking home in the rain. At least the fries came out at lightning speed and were delicious. 

Day two - lots of stuff. I started out by walking the Freedom Trail. I didn't walk the entire trail, but I hit the highlights, starting at the Boston Commons and including a tour of the Old State House Museum ($6 for students), Faneuil  Hall, and lunch in the Quincy Marketplace. Since I had planned on that taking up my whole day, I was at a loss for what to do with the remaining half of my day. I found my way to the Theater District, made it just in time to buy a student rush ticket to see the Blue Man Group, killed an hour at Dunkin' Donuts (which are in Boston the way Starbucks is in NYC), and finally saw what I think must be the most entertaining show in the history of  creative shows. The music was fun, the stunts were ridiculously funny, and the dry humor kept the audience in a near-constant state of laughter. The only down side was that I left with banana mush on my jacket that I still can't manage to get off. The day ended with a great plate of pasta and a great glass of Chianti in Boston's Little Italy.

Day three - day three started at Northwestern University where I had an egg and cheese bagel. That wasn't part of the plan, but neither were half the things I ended up doing. My first stop after breakfast was the Museum of Fine Art, specifically their newly-opened Wing of the Americas. There was an incredible amount and variety of art, complete with the history of each piece and how it fit into the times  in which it was created. I walked through all the wings and saw art from every region of the world. After the museum it was back to the Theater District for Shear Madness - an interactive murder mystery/comedy. It didn't come close to the Blue Man Group, but for the half the price it was well worth it. Once again at a loss for what to do next, I asked around in some stores and following advice, I ended up walking along Newbury Street. Lined with upscale stores and old building, the street was certainly an interesting place, but I preferred the adjacent Commonwealth Avenue, which was lined with trees covered in Christmas lights. The site was beautiful as dusk set in. Ready to go home after about 10 hours of walking, I got back on the subway. Of course, even that didn't go according to plan. I heard someone say something about the Prudential Building and thought, why not? So I got off at the Prudential stop and treated myself to desert and wine at the top of the building, which provided a beautiful view of the city.

Each of these places and shows really deserves an entire post of its own, but honestly I'm just not that motivated so this quick summary will have to due. Suffice it to say that Boston is a great city for a weekend trip. There's no lack of things to do, and the city is relatively small. I walked the entire length in one day, so a tourist can easily hit all the highlights, and even some not-so-highlighted places, with just one or two full days. 

Moving to New York

I have been a little negligent of this blog because my past month and half have been consumed with moving to a new state...and a new climate. Adjusting to the NY winter, especially the most sever January on record, has been no easy task. But, I have purchased a variety of coats, gloves, scarves and hats and have made my way around my new environment.

To explain everything I have done and seen since I moved here would take pages and pages, so I'll skip all those details. Suffice to say that New York is exactly what I expected - a high pace city with no end of sights to see and things to do. Everywhere I turn I'm facing something famous. I have accidently found myself staring up at the Empire State Building, walking through Central Park, Bryant Park, Madisson Square Park, Times Square, I've wandered past Madisson Square Garden, looked out the window at the Crysler Building, found myself on 5th Avenue, and that's just the beginning of the things I've seen here.

The winter in this city is beautiful (if you're looking out a window). I've seen fresh, white snow covering the trees and lining the streets. I watched people ice skate at Rockafeller Center and wished I had the cold tolerance to join them. But I've also seen month-old snow, leaving piles of black dust covering the sidewalks. I love to walk through the city, with no particular destination in mind, and take pictures of all the new things around me. Unfortunately, keeping my hand out of a glove long enough to snap a few shots soon becomes painful as my hands turn bright red and numb. I fight through the pain, though, and have a few good pictures as a momento of my stroll.

I continue to be amazed by the architecture, the nature, and the feel of New York. The hour-long commute from my apartment doesn't even bother me, because I know I have a spectacular destination to look forward to.

Lake Louisa State Park, Florida

Lake Louisa State Park is mere 30 minutes from Orlando. I had no idea such an exquisite place could possibly exist so close to a cement city filled with ridiculous wizard-shaped gift shops. This park encompassed all the breath-taking beauty of untouched nature, yet it is well-maintained and comfortable. The park contained three lakes, but I really only saw two. A short, winding drive through central Florida’s hills brought us to the beach of Lake Louisa. Believe it or not, this lake actually had a white-sand beach alongside a small forest. Little pathways allow travelers to explore the natural beauty of Lake Louisa and its surroundings. We bundled up, had a little picnic and departed to warmer grounds.

We made our way to our cabin, which was positioned on a little hill and overlooked the immaculate Lake Dixie. The cabin had two big bedrooms, two bathrooms, a full kitchen and a living room equipped with an electric fireplace. My personal favorite part was the wrap-around porch with 3 rocking chairs and a picnic table. Sitting on the balcony, I took in the tranquil scene before me. There were about 500 feet of brush between the cabin and the lake. Spanish moss-draped trees lined the lake, giving it a majestic look and feel. The chilly air made it feel like I was far from Florida. I took a little walk down to the lake just as the sun was setting. A few evening birdsongs accompanied me as I strolled along and snapped pictures. The sky slowly evolved from blue, to red, to orange and faded to grey as the sun disappeared below the line of trees in the distance.  One thing I love about winter, I managed to walk along a lake at sunset and escape without a single mosquito bite.

Aside from its innate beauty, Lake Louisa State Park has a lot to offer. They have canoe rentals, all kinds of walking trails, a beach, and a campground. I walked around Lake Dixie, which is about 2 miles. The scenery changed several times in that short distance and I took advantage of several overlooks. I finished my short hike with pictures of scores of lily pads gathered near the lake’s shore, of an armadillo absent-mindedly searching for food, of oranges growing in the groves planted along the road, of dangerous spike-bearing vines reaching out to capture an unsuspecting passerby, and many other unique sights. Of all the places I’ve seen in Florida, this is by far my favorite. So close to home, yet with the feel of a Virginia getaway, Lake Louisa State Park offers the calm serenity that’s worth the trip, even if you’re not a local.

Lake Ridge Winery - Clermont, Florida

The Lake Ridge Winery was not my first winery, but it was the first I’ve visited at an old enough age to appreciate.  Not quite 2 hours from my home-town, I certainly didn’t have very high expectations of the general area, but I went with no preconceived notions of the winery itself. I must say, even before I arrived at the actual location I could see that the area far exceeded the sub-par scenery that I had expected. Florida’s winters tend to bring more brown and gray than any other color, but on the drive to the winery I saw some hints of the yellows and reds you’d expect to find in the brilliant foliage of a New England fall. We passed orange groves and open fields, even the occasional bare land with absolutely no development. It was a nice way to precede my winery experience.

Due to the unusual cold snap, the winery employees and guests made every effort to stay inside whenever possible. We started our visit in the toasty gift shop, which was home to a number of amusing odds and ends. Among the many gadgets was a 6-piece wine care set. Now, who needs 6 pieces of equipment to care for a bottle of wine? I asked around and found that, in fact, many people do. A label cutter, a cork screw, a reusable cork…and 3 other extremely important pieces that I can’t remember. I entertained myself by reading birthday cards which were arranged by the year, highlighted a specific wine, and gave trivia about the year of birth on the card. During the year my grandmother was born, IBM entered the typewriter business (here’s to you, Grandma).

We began our tour with a short video of the history of the winery and its owner. I was surprised to learn that the first US-made wine came out of Jacksonville, Florida, more than 100 years ahead of California. Yet another thing a Floridian can be proud of, right alongside NASA, the Keys, Disney (if you count that as a source of pride), and I’m sure some record for hurricanes.  I learned about the muscadine grape, which is the only grape in the US south that can produce wine. It naturally only makes sweet wines, but thanks to the University of Florida, it has been genetically crossed with other grapes and can now produce the entire spectrum of wines, including reds, whites, sweet wines, dry wines, and even sparkling wines.

After the video we took a short trip to the cold and unwelcoming outdoors. The view was magnificent to my Floridian eyes because there wasn’t a building in sight. Nature, in all its winter colors, stretched on as far as I could see. The grape vines probably look nicer in the summer, considering that they were dead, gray and crispy during this trip, but it was a pleasant sight nonetheless.

The last and best part of our winery tour was the wine tasting. We started with the driest wine and worked our way down to the sweetest. One quarter-glass at a time, I tried all kinds of red and white wines while I read the descriptions. I can say for a fact that I did not taste blueberry in any of the glasses I tried, but the descriptions said that I should have in at least 2 or 3. I guess I still have a long way to go before I can say that I’m a wine connoisseur. Continuing my education, I learned that I love dry wines and really have no taste at all for sweet wines, which to me taste like some terrible concoction of a once-good wine mixed with some sugary sin to please a child’s palate. I hear that some people really love sweet wines, but I’m certainly not one of them.

All in all, my trip to the Lake Ridge Winery was a very enjoyable experience. It was a nice and unexpected destination that I think every local should at least try to visit, especially since it’s winter and the mosquitoes are on a hiatus.

Bocas Del Toro, Panama: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

This post is about a month old by now, but better late than never, right?

After over a year of trying to go to Bocas, I finally made it a couple weekends ago. Two days of traveling brought me from San Jose, Costa Rica to the Caribbean town of Puerto Viejo where we bunked for the night. Rather than take the cheap route and rent a tent for $4, which we usually do, we sprung for a $20/night hotel. That, of course, turned out to be a mistake that I realized the next morning. I lifted the pillow and found a cockroach under it, then took a shower and noticed a good dozen spiders hanging out around the shower head. I quickly moved on, though, as I had a long bus ride to the boarder ahead of me. We boarded at 6am, went to the boarder, split a van fair with a European couple, then hopped on a water taxi that finally took us the main island around 11am.

The Good:
Bocas del Toro is a beautiful string of islands that can take the breath away from even the most well-traveled tourist. The pure green trees, the blue sky, puffy white clouds, and crystal clear water created a scenery worthy of Thomas Kinkade's attention. As I stepped onto the dock I noticed that the water below was filled with tiny fish frantically swimming about and several starfish doing whatever starfish do on the shallow bottom. I knew immediately that this was a place I would never forget. We walked around the little town, found a nice $15/night hotel (cockroach- and spider-free), and a plethora of fun restaurants to try. First things first, though. We dropped our stuff off in the room and went straight to the docks to find a snorkeling tour. As luck would have it, we were the only two tourists on the trip so we had a little slice of the Caribbean to ourselves. We swam around for a bit, saw some seaweed, then all of a sudden I was surrounded by sea life. I found a little patch with all kinds of fish and plants. I even saw a purple jellyfish. I would have loved to stay and explore a bit more, but the water became a little too rough to enjoy it.

Once back on dry land, we strolled around, stopped at all the artesian's booths, and looked for a restaurant. We ate at several unique places during our weekend at Bocas, but my two favorites were a vegetarian restaurant and a Chinese restaurant. When we went to the Chinese place we were greeted by two playful children. The parents were nowhere to be seen so the older girl gave us a menu and told us to sit down. Finally the dad came to talk to us, and boy was it an experience trying to talk to him. He didn't speak English, I don't speak Chinese, and we both have difficult accents in Spanish. Fortunately Rene had a little luck deciphering his words. We eventually figured out everything and I had some of the best wontons, chicken and rice that I've yet tried. We stayed for about an hour and watched as a storm developed and crept its way to our island. We decided to leave only because we wanted to make it to our evening coffee house, La Buga, before the downpour began. I had my cappuccino, Rene had a fruit smoothie, and we sat with the European couple that we seemed to run into every day. I loved the flow of our conversations. The four of us exchanged our stories about Bocas, with four different accents  - Costa  Rican, United States, Spanish, and French. Their 6-year-old daughter danced around us and sang the whole time.

Our other tours throughout the weekend took us to an isolated island with a magnificent beach. We walked all around, which took about 30 minutes. At some points we had a swim a little, we had to climb a little, and we had to duck and roll a little, so the trip was never boring. We finally made it to where we started from, set up camp, and went swimming. The initial chill of the water quickly melted away as the pleasant warm current covered us. We splashed around and took pictures until the boat came back for us. .We went to a little restaurant on the water. Now, when I say "on the water", that's exactly what I mean. The restaurant was built on a dock right over the water. As we ate, I looked down at the floor planks, then through them to see the little waves churning. I had some delicious fried chicken and Rene had a traditional Caribbean chicken and rice dish. We took off once again to snorkel. We went to a spot that was relatively shallow, but with no shortage of nature to see. The reefs were some of the most incredible that I've ever seen. I saw all kinds of plants that looked like everything from tall grass to brains. There were sea urchins, colorful fish, and the wonderful crackling sound of the fish munching in the water. I spotted another jellyfish and frantically felt around for Rene's leg so he could take a picture of it. All of a sudden I was aware that there were jellyfish everywhere. There was a current that was bringing a whole swarm of them right to us. I decided that this was the end of my snorkeling adventure and very carefully swam as fast as I could against the current and back to the boat. I was really disappointed to have to cut my snorkeling time short in a place with such an amazing variety of life to see. Soon, everyone else had the same idea as me and we were all back on the boat. What happened next? A woman on the tour with us told us that she's a diver and that this type of jellyfish was totally harmless. Of course, by that time we were already well on our way back to shore and it was too late to finish our tour.

The Bad:
It seemed to me that the people who worked in Bocas think of tourists as a easy targets. For example, I paid for my hotel in advance on the first day. The total came to $45, I gave the woman $60, and she put in the drawer and said thanks. It took about 10 minutes of arguing to get her to open the drawer and check. She subsequently realized that she owed me $15. The next day, she asked when we were going to pay. I guess she thought that I'd forgotten that I'd already paid for all 3 nights. Everyone we talked to had a similar experience. One person told me that he bought a few beers, that cost about 50 cents, and a bag a chips and they charged him $30. This poor guy didn't realize he was being ripped off because he's Australian and used to their currency, he had just spent several weeks in Costa Rica using colones (500 of which is about $1), and this was his first day in Panama using US dollars. If traveling to Bocas del Toro, I would recommend being very conscientious with your money.

The Ugly:
Nothing at all. There is absolutely nothing in Bocas that is ugly. The scenery is exquisite, the streets are clean with little artesian booths scattered around and all the restaurants are open and inviting. Everywhere you look, you see a beautiful Caribbean view and the atmosphere of a relaxed beach community.

Home

"One's place of residence" is Webster's first definition for the word "home" (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/home, if you don't believe me). The word itself can conjure up images of family and warmth, possibly a holiday reunion, and can bring comforting feelings of love and tranquility. I'm leaving Costa Rica tomorrow to return "home", hence the topic of today's post.

Throughout my life and travels, I have found that the word "home" is quite variable. Sometimes, it is much more than simply my "place of residence," however sometimes it is much less. After an exhilarating day of snorkeling, swimming, and burning my tender white skin on a beautiful Costa Rican beach, "home" is the cheap, bug-infested hotel to which I return to sleep. When I left Europe, I felt like I was "home" when I landed in a US airport, even though it was nearly a thousand miles from where I lived. Once again, I felt "home" when I landed in the Orlando airport, a 1-hour drive from my house. I was "home" again when we took our exit off the highway and I was once again on familiar roads. Finally, I was "home" when we walked in the front door of the house where I grew up. 

Perhaps I feel that my true "home" is where my family is, where I spent my whole childhood and adolescence. Does that ever change? Will I someday feel so at "home" somewhere else, or will I just create another version of "home" and have two? When I was in college, "home" was my dorm - 3 actually, since I had a different one every year. When I studied abroad in Costa Rica, "home" was the house of my  host family. When I studied abroad in Panama, "home" was the house I shared with two other students. When I leave for the weekend now, "home" is my boyfriend's house, where I've lived for the past 6 months. Tomorrow I will fly "home", to where my family is. How is it that I can leave "home", fly for 4 hours and arrive at "home"?

Why on Earth do I exert my brain power thinking of these things...?