Drifting into the New Year

At the close of 2021 and the dawn of 2022, we decided it was high time for us to escape our four walls. True to our tradition of heading North and West in the summer and South and East in the winter, we more or less randomly picked the Georgia Golden Isles to migrate to. Just like the birds. 

I am writing this piece in the middle of a winter storm, with freezing rain, wind and temps below 30F and it’s exactly the kind of weather we ran away from right before the new year clocked in. 

I am not sure where I came up with “Georgia isles”, truly. I was dreaming of going back to Kiawah island, in South Carolina - something I have been meaning to go back to for a while. But there were not a lot of AirBnB options open for the New Year and not a lot of places to eat too-too near-by. So, I went more South with my searches and the maps landed me in Georgia. 

It was our first time in the islands of Georgia and we had zero expectations. We knew we would want to take in some of the beaches - not to lay out, but to walk and shoot. We knew there had to be some birds to watch and we wanted good, fresh seafood and a reason to sit around on a fish-smelling patio and sip a cold drink. 

And those were what the Georgia isles delivered and more ... 

There is no way to properly describe the haunting beauty of the Spanish moss draping over hundred-year old live oaks. It’s something that must be experienced to understand. It has a lot to do with the chill, or the skin-crawling feeling given by watching a horror movie and less with the quiet, majestic beauty of a landscape. Nevertheless, it is as mysteriously beautiful as it is scary. 

I believe every Georgia coastal town (Savannah included) is flooded by these beauties, but I could be wrong. I have just personally not been in Eastern Georgia where they were absent. 

They haunted us everywhere and framed the adventures we were about to have. 

The first day, we woke up in our AirBnB condo in St. Simons Island, on a marsh flooded with sunlight. There was not one egret under our balcony, but a whole farm of them. Kingfishers, herons, cranes, ducks and many other water fowl that we could not even identify. My husband said “wow! It feels like we’re in Africa or something.” - a little bit wetter than that, I’d say, but the golden water vegetation, the minimalistic trees and the birds everywhere, the wide-open sky were all there ... We felt transported. Our little house in North Carolina, of which we have been growing way too bored, was eons behind us ...

We had breakfast reservations on Jekyll Island, at Eighty Ocean Kitchen and Bar. We ate outside, under the palm trees and by the pool. We were the only people on the patio. There were people eating inside and we could not understand why: the weather was amazing, maybe 75F, partially cloudy and breezy. Just beautiful. Not to mention: pandemic! Why would you want to be inside?! 

You have to pay a toll to go to Jekyll Island, which was news to us, so having done that, we decided to do as much as we could on Jekyll Island before we'd get out again and pursue the adventures on our own island of St. Simons. 

After breakfast, we went to Driftwood Beach which was on our “to do” list. Whatever the google tells you that Driftwood Beach is ... is incorrect. If you’re ever in these parts, the $8 toll is 100% worth it just for this beach alone. Just like the name alludes to it: it is a beach full of driftwood. But not just some twigs and branches of driftwood like you see in the decor of many beachy cabins. No, ma’am! It’s a whole forest of driftwood: entire trees just “shipwrecked” on the beach, thrown around, laying on their side, some still standing, dry roots over wet sand, leafless for what it seems like ages, just bracing the ocean; the wind; the hurricanes; life. 

The enormous trees of Driftwood Beach - Jekyll Island, GA

You feel small and unimportant in the whole scheme of things. If the elements can throw around trees the size of buildings like these, what can they do to you?! No control ... There is so much freedom in driftwood - not knowing where it will land, in a different place every day, moved by the water ... There is so much about chance and history that they whisper ... Again, so much mystery. 

Turkey vulture at Driftwood Beach

After the beach, we drove around Jekyll Island in search of Tupelo Trail. We drove by the Horton House, a historic tabby house built in the 18th century by Major William Horton who was believed to be the first resident of the island. He also was the first person (from what is known) to ever brew beer in Georgia and his “brewery” still stands in ruins on the same land as the house. Learning about the Horton House, we also learned about the rich history of the island which was captured from The Spanish in the early to mid 18th century by British troops stationed at Fort Frederica. In case you are wondering, a tabby house means it was built from a mix of burned oyster shells mixed with sand, water, ash, and other shells. 

The "farm" of egrets behind our condo - Sea Palms Resort, St. Simons Island, GA

The entrance to Jekyll Island with the Sidney Lanier bridge in the background

Once we found our trail, we realized that we just stepped into almost another climate, or even another part of the planet: the landscape surely changed drastically between the open, wet-and-dry, windy beach and the trail: Horton Pond at the mouth of the trail was a quiet little heaven for ducks, turtles and alligators. The trail itself looped around the park through a forest of live oaks draped in Spanish moss and resurrection ferns and littered with palmettos and exotic blooms. We were now thinking we were transported to Hawaii in the middle of the rain forest. It was hot and humid. Sticky humid and almost blistering hot. This was December 31, 2021. Definitely the warmest December I have ever lived. 

Tupelo Trail on Horton Pond - Jekyll Island, GA

We stopped by Tortuga Jack’s on the island for some drinks and some snacks before we headed out. Jekyll’s Island overdid itself in beauty and surprises! 

We headed towards the St. Simons Lighthouse on - where else but - St. Simons Island. We took the tour of the keeper’s house and visited the museum, but it was simply too hot to climb all the 129 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We resigned ourselves to walk around the park that leads to the St. Simons pier and take in the gorgeous sunset. The last one of 2021. All the worries and “muck” of 2021 seemed to drown into the ocean with that sun ...

Last sunset of 2021

St. Simons Lighthouse

St. Simons Pier

As we were watching the sun drowning into the ocean, I called my parents in Romania around their midnight, to wish them welcome into 2022 although we were still 7 hours away from it. I wished them well watching that sunset - it was like speaking with them on the other side of the precipice and the sun’s brightest lava was bridging us - on either side of The Atlantic, in two different years; present and future to us ... present and past to them ... 

Later that night we had a delicious seafood dinner at Coastal Kitchen and Bar and we rang the new year in our room because all restaurants and bars closed before midnight. Go figure! 

The following day, we woke up to a brand new year! Oh, the possibilities and hopes! The dreams and prayers we were sending out into the world! 

Somewhat augurally, we had breakfast at the Echo Restaurant at The King and Prince Resort on St. Simons island. The sound and the birds were echoing premonitions of the new year, twined with those of the one we had just left behind ... but we could not make up the voices. We could only hear the sound ... When we stepped on to the patio at Echo, we were on the beach again. Although there was no beach to be seen! I had never seen the ocean clad in so much thick fog! I have always wondered when watching maritime movies how they make it so foggy on the ocean sometimes because having lived on The Atlantic in my time, I had never seen fog that thick. Well, it was there, on St. Simons Island on the first day of 2022, I can promise you that! The ocean was silenced and seemed far, far away, although we knew it was right there, within a few hundred yards really ... Puppies and children ran all around ... We sat under an umbrella and enjoyed our breakfast. Or rather lunch because they were done serving breakfast ... All the restaurants seemed to have trouble keeping up with what meal they were serving when and with what reservations were made and for what dining room (inside, outside, covered patio?). They were all very good but it took them a minute to find their bearings with every guest. 

The foggy beach at The Echo - St. Simons Island, GA

We walked briefly around the beach after breakfast and around the resort and the streets in St. Simons. Everything felt very much like we were in Charleston, SC or Savannah - Southern coastal history at its best. Live oaks and beautiful, well-manicured palm trees were greeting us at every corner, majestic villas wrapped-up in history and dramas untold. There is a strange mix of Southern and Spanish architecture in these islands, perhaps hailing back from the times when Georgia was deemed as “Debatable Land” - not too sure whether it belonged to Spain or the British Empire. That debate was settled in 1742, when the soldiers of Fort Frederica fought The Spanish under colonel Ogelthorpe and decided once and for all that the land belonged to The Empire  ...

After breakfast, we headed towards the Christ Church Frederica, an Episcopal church, one of the oldest in the state, originally established in the 18th century, destroyed during the Civil War and rebuilt right after that. A walk through the cemetery on the grounds reveals the long history of these parts, old families with elaborate plots. Makes you wonder where they all came from, who they were and what secrets they took with them on the other side of this dirt. 

Christ Church Frederica - St. Simons Island, GA

The cemetery on the grounds of the church

The day was once again getting hot. We headed next to Redfern Village, a shopping and restaurant kind of neighborhood, to browse the book offerings at Righton Books and cool off with a latte at Jittery Joe’s while getting some energy back while savoring one of their oatmeal cookies. 

Cheeky and inviting sidewalk sign at Righton Books

Over our New Year’s Eve dinner at Coastal Kitchen the night before, a couple sitting by our table on the patio started chatting with us (the magic of dogs! They had a cute little Australian shepherd terrified of the fireworks who came and spoke with us first) and told us that while we were on the island, we must go to Sea Island (Resort) and listen to the bagpiper at sunset. They promised a once in a lifetime experience. Sea Island is a gated (with a guard) golf club and resort which was built on the grounds of many establishments that existed between the 18th century and the beginning of the 20th century (as explained here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sea_Island,_Georgia). Today, it is on the PGA tour and although it is breathtaking, it smells a bit of dirty money and too much pomp for our taste. Or at least that was my first impression, mostly judging by the self-entitled crowd that roams the place with a self-important swagger, drink in hand and superior grin to boot. Maybe I am wrong. 

Even if you can’t get into the exclusive resort, it is worth driving down to Sea Island to see the Avenue of the Oaks - the street that leads to the resort, lined, like loyal soldiers, forever en garde, by old live oaks draped in the now ubiquitous Spanish moss ... The low branches and the hairy moss are quite the spectacle in the breeze of the island ... 

The Avenue of the Oaks at Sea Island Resort, St. Simons Island, GA

Our dinner “friends” told us the “secret passcode” to get in: “Just tell them you’re there to see the bagpiper. They’ll let you right on through.” And they did. We were not too sure where everything was and where the piper might be playing, but a very friendly concierge lady directed us to the back patio which opens up in the driving range, framed by palms and palmetto trees. The bagpiper started playing around 5 PM and he was to play for an hour. He walked up and down the golf cart path in front of the back patio and played sombre tunes. The sunset was around 5.30 PM. We listened in awe to the beautiful sound of this instrument but it was far from the serene experience we were promised. People were talking very loudly on the back porch, shouting out orders, mothers, babysitting their children while the husbands were loading up their golf gear in the overpriced vehicles, were running around trying to keep an eye on the little ones, watching as they were getting ready to hit their first golf ball and hurriedly posting every move to their social media accounts ...

Ruins, oaks and moss at Sea Island Resort

The bagpiper at dusk

We left the porch and the too-busy-to-take-in driving range area and found a more solitary “crowd”, much quieter, by the infinity pool on the shores of the ocean, still within earshot of the bagpiper. There, we waited for another glorious sunset - the first one of the year 2022. We were silent as we both probably made a mental plan or said our quiet prayers for what the new year might be bringing onto our lives.  

The infinity pool and the first sunset of 2022 at Sea Island Resort - St. Simons Island, GA

On our last morning on St. Simons Island, January 2, 2022, we woke up at high tide, with our condo marsh flooded by the tide water. It no longer looked like Africa. It very much resembled Kiawah Island ... the trees were half-way buried in water and the birds were happy, restless and hunting for fish. 

 

 

The marshes behind out condo on our last day on the island

View of our condo from the marshes in the back

I threw on a shirt and some jeans and I had to walk behind our condo and take some last pictures to remember this place by. There was no noise, not a sound, other than of fish occasionally leaping up from the waters, or of water fowl letting each other know they are home. 

Birds in the marshes behind our condo

On the way back, with my husband driving, I kept thinking of all the things we had learned, about The South, its history, about what kind of people live in these parts and were buried in that solemnly quiet graveyard, about all the old year’s remains that we buried in the ocean with that last sunset and about the new slate ahead of us - a new year, with new dreams, hopes, promises ... 

My thoughts were drifting in and out of my mind, oscillating between the old and the new; the old I had left behind, the new that was wrapped up in the fog of the unknown new year in front of me. Will it be better? Harder? More rewarding? Or a let down, not worthy of new year’s resolutions or even prayers? An uprooted tree, at the mercy of torrents knows no direction. It just follows the drift until one day, it might just find a friendly shore to rest on ... forever ... 

Happy new year, all! Wishing you all safe shores! 

Sunrise to a new day behind our condo right as we were getting ready to head back home. Click on the picture to view the entire album from this trip.

The Changing World of Travel. And of Everything Else …

I thought about how I should refer to traveling during the times we live in now. Lots of people I know say “traveling post-pandemic”, but is it truly “post-pandemic” when the daily Covid numbers are doubling from week to week in every state, and worse around the globe? Maybe “post-vaccine” would be more correct.

We finally came out of our shells, fully vaccinated but still cautious, and dared out to travel overnight twice in the past month or so. We stayed at a hotel in Hickory, NC for a night and then we rented an Airbnb cabin for several days over the July 4^th weekend. We tried to avoid busy, crowded cities. Our cabin was virtually in the middle of nowhere, in the small town of Bakersville, NC (population 466), on a mountain slope surrounded by woods which was only accessible by a one-mile, one-lane forest road so steep we would not dare walk on for fear of spraining something. As far as we know, the deer, and bunnies, and many birds we had for companions up there could not share Covid. We felt safe.

I have loved to travel, as many of you know, but I have found even in these two short trips than I am a bit out of practice. Or maybe there is a combination between me being out of practice and the world having changed. Irrelevant. I felt rusty.

Having thought about traveling lately and actually doing it a little bit, I find that the world of travel has changed since merely a year and a half ago, before it all started. There are things I have learned to look for and research that were inexistent before. Things that I do differently. And there are changes in the world of travel and hospitality that might never be reversed. Some of these things I have observed so far  I thought worth jotting down:

• When you’re looking for places to stay now, hotels and other services (like Airbnb or VRBO) will advertise about their cleaning procedures and methods on their booking sites with every chance they get. Before, they either didn’t, or it was so much expected that I never looked for that information. Now, I hardly click “Check rates” or “Book now” if I don’t see their standards listed – but very few sites are missing this information anymore.
  You’ll find sites that tout “committed to cleanliness”, “our deep cleaning procedures are in place for your safety”, “staff is trained on safe food preparation and service practices and are required to wear masks,” again, “for your safety,” they “clean every surface with approved cleaners after every use” - which could be reassuring. But my question is: should these have been standards to begin with? Are these truly any different, any more “in depth” than what you would normally expect hotels and guest houses to practice, pandemic times or not?! And the harder puzzle to crack: how does one know what’s truly “safer” and what is just an advertising gimmick or PR contrivance because they know this is what people look for now?
  We have found that the bartenders don’t wear gloves like advertised in the pictures on the hotel site, nor masks, and that the Airbnb home very clearly does not clean the covers in the bedroom; they clean just the sheets, for example.
• Some hotels also advertise keyless entry and online check-in and checkout for their rooms. We did check in from our phone but our keyless app did not work. Our phone just refused to pair with the door of the hotel room. We had to ask for a key card, which is what we used before Covid. I remember when we were moving from human bank tellers to an ATM (from human to a machine touch), and now we’re even moving away from a machine “touch” to “touchless.” The world has the ability to handle “touchless” services but the pace is still a little slow.
• I find myself looking for hotels that “do not share ducts”. I look for places that have good ventilation or rooms that don’t share ducts so that air won’t travel from room to room. I spend the least amount of time in the hotel lobby’s area (always masked) and only sit on the outdoor patio if I order a drink, for instance, as opposed to the bar area or at an indoor table. This was not a consideration before. I look more and more for individual homes and cabins rather than a hotel because having a whole house to ourselves ensures we won’t breathe anyone else’s air.
• Another new thing to consider now before you go elsewhere is: do I need to bring my vaccine card with me? Is anything I am doing going to require proof of vaccination or proof of a negative test result? One more ID to bring along. We’re flirting with the idea of international travel next; the question there is: where can I go without having to be in a quarantine for 14 days? If I need proof of a negative test, how long in advance do I need to get it? Where do I get it while I am there? These are new necessities that we are just now learning how to research. With family living in three other countries I admit that I don’t even know all the rules for each country and each airline, but I will learn.
• Maybe you’re less paranoid and fearless than me, but when I travel, should I get stuck with strangers in close quarters (as in boutiques, public bathrooms, or a gondola ride up a mountain, perhaps), I am itching to know whether they are vaccinated or not. I am bothered if they are not masked (I always wear a mask indoors, although vaccinated), and I want to come out and just ask “when was your last dose of the vaccine”? Or “are you fully vaccinated”? I do find that this constant, irrational wondering takes away a lot of the fun, but as irrational things are, there is no controlling it. Or at least not yet. I am hoping that over time, with practice, the obsession will fade. (Easier said than done for a control freak).
• Whether a restaurant had a patio or not was irrelevant to me before, whether traveling or just going out to dinner. Now, not knowing the areas, we had to call and ask who had a patio and whether we could make reservations for it. In the mountains of NC in the middle of nothing the options to dine out are limited as it is. With us being there over the July 4^th weekend when half of the places were closed, our options to find a restaurant were that much slimmer. When a place was open but did not have a patio, we took our food out to go. And that worked OK. We ate it on picnic tables or back at the cabin.
• One sad reality of these times is that the restaurant and hospitality industries are truly, truly hurting. Not just in that their customer numbers are not what they used to be, but in that they have extremely limited staff. Virtually every place we went to on our vacation (hotels, restaurants, entertainment venues) had a “Hiring now. All positions.” sign at the door. The wait staff that are working are slow because places are painfully understaffed. This is a fact. We walked into a place in Burnsville, NC and we stood at the door to be seated for 15 minutes. The patrons were looking at us funny but the only two waiters (a waiter and a bartender, and no idea who was cooking the food but they were not visible from the dining room) did not so much as make eye contact with us because they were busy taking orders, giving out food and drinks, paying bills. We ended up leaving and finding another restaurant where you had to order the food at the counter yourself – no wait staff although the restaurant had very clearly been a sit-down kind of place. Again, only two people were working here, just taking the orders and bringing food out. No drink refills and we cleaned our own tables. No, I am not sharing this because it was an imposition, I am sharing this because it’s sad to see an industry that we so willingly love to support hurting so much.  If we did get a sit-down restaurant with waiting staff, the service was always accurate but at least twice as long as anywhere else before the pandemic. If you go out there and try it out, my word of advice is: patience.

And the lessons are, of course, a lot more: traveling with hand sanitizer wherever we are is not new to me, as a permanent mechanical valve patient, but now I see that almost everyone carries sanitizer or wipes and actually uses them before touching food. A welcome relief! Picking up a mask before we leave the house is as important as the keys.

I guess there is nothing more compelling, more acute, more immediate, more dire than an international disaster to make the world change. Whether we were ready for it or not, we’ll find new ways to adapt, new ways to not be scared, new ways to live. And travel. I hope.

It’ll never be the same, but human resilience and adaptability will eventually win. Of that I am sure. I think “adaptability” is the key word here: what is now an imposition (remembering masks, wipes, vaccine, negative tests, proper ventilation, etc) will become routine, just like packing a toothbrush was before. But isn’t this how humanity survived and progressed, anyway?  

Happy travels, all!

So Much More than Sunsets. Southern Florida in the Winter

I am sitting on my couch under a soft blanket, sipping hot coffee and looking at my Christmas tree, all decked out. As I do this on my last day off this year, I am flipping through my Key West and Miami pictures from our Thanksgiving trip this year and a longing for warm air, blue waters, and fresh seafood overtakes me …

I wanted to take some time to remember this trip and share a few favorites.

I remember looking up Key West on google, and there was a question: “What is Key West famous for?” The answer was surprising to me: “It is famous for sunsets.” Something of a cop-out, I think, and promptly chuckled to myself: “A boat in the middle of the ocean could be famous for that. That answer is unfair as much as it is limiting.” Although I am a nut for beautiful skyscapes of all kinds, Key West should be famous for a lot more things than just sunsets.

Here are my top 10 favorite memories from this trip and they cover Key West as well as Southern Miami:

1. Chase the history. There is so much history in Key West. You can tell from the age of the building, and the condition of the bricks and the cobble stone around the marina – whip-lashed by many of years of rain, salt, and many hurricane winds. I have always been fascinated with island living. Too much of a control freak myself to really let go and be isolated from the world, totally remote and truly disconnected, how people manage to build houses and a life without the comfort of land connections boggles my mind. The Overseas Highway that connects Key West to Miami did not open till the beginning of the 20^th century. The oldest house in Key West touts its foundation in 1829 and I am sure lots of people lived these parts even before then. Stepping back into this old house is like traveling in time – the house still has limited running water to the main house and looks and feels very much like a two hundred year old house. The smell, the creaky floors, the crooked windows, the lack of modern commodities like A/C keep the authenticity of its age intact.
                                    
                                            The Oldest House in Key West (1820's)
   There are other historic landmarks to visit: Hemingway's house, of course, famous not only for the polidactyl cats, but also for chronicling the life of one of the most famous, loved, intriguing authors of the modern era; president Truman's Little White House – the working vacation home that president Truman kept; the Audubon House, named after the famous ornithologist John Audubon, but with a dark and obscure past that only partially and very obscurely connects it to him. These are just the few historic landmarks we visited, but there are many others. You will hear stories about how the houses were built and how the gardens were put together, stories about their founders, either well-to-do, rich land folk, or wreckers, an occupation partial to these parts – folks who salvaged goods from wrecked ships and got a good penny from reselling them.
                                  
                       A rooster asleep on a fence at The Audubon House
                                                      in Key West
   Just walk the streets of Key West and the history will call your name like a mermaid. Skip the cheesy stores and visit one of these homes instead, and learn something about American history, as it was written in these parts.
2. Take a trolley tour of the city. There are various routes you can sign up for, but get the one that covers the most ground. I believe all of them are narrated and the driver will share things that you cannot find in any brochure. They will also have tips for what restaurant to go to for the best breakfast or a frozen treat, and where Jimmy Buffett's recording studio is located.
3. Walk Duval Street. Everything that you need is on this street. It runs clear across the island, East to West, and at 1.25 miles-length total you can walk from one end to another in a very short time. It has over 100 restaurants and many museums and other attractions to visit. If you are there for the shopping, many gift stores are stringed along this street as well. This street reminded me a lot of New Orleans: some restaurants have live music non-stop, mostly island, or cajun music. All the restaurants are open to the streets and you almost always sit under huge fans. It's the open air living that is very common to island living. The street is a good example of the heart of Key West. You can feel the heart of this city beating with each live music venue you encounter.
4. Even if you don't visit Harry Truman's Little White House, make some time to walk the Truman Annex neighborhood in which it is located. I always thought that beach living means either white washed houses raised on stilts, creaking under the rotting foundations, or huge 20+ bedroom mansions with thick gates and not ever affordable to the common person. The Truman Annex homes are neither. Still on the high end of the spectrum as far as affordability goes (as a quick search for this address shows on Zillow), they are beautifully architected, Old South homes, with thick pillars and plantation shutters. Each one of them is wrapped in a thick garden of palm trees with orchids growing on their trunks, exotic fruit trees and grasses. The homes are jewels hiding within the bountiful greenery around them, behind short, mostly metal fences. More like roadhomes than standalone homes, but separate buildings nonetheless. The neighborhood is lush and quiet, coquette and well groomed. An iguana might be perched here and there on a fence or on a hibiscus bush. You forget for a minute you are in Key West, feet away from the cheese of the t-shirt stores and frozen key lime pie on a stick covered in chocolate.
                               
                  An iguana perched on a house fence in The Truman Annex
                                           neighborhood in Key West
5. Eat some conch chowder. I know, this may sound like a cliché: we're in The Conch Republic, as Key West names itself, do we really have to fall for it?! And the answer is yes, absolutely. Please do! Several places make it and they were all good, but my favorite was the Manhattan style conch chowder at Caroline's Cafe on Duval Street. That tomato soup was probably stewed for hours on end to squeeze every little bit of sweetness from the tomatoes. The conch bits were generous in size and very filling, I mistook them for beef, they were so hearty. Conch by itself, I decided, has a mild flavor, not very impressive, but this chowder was something else! Also, if you want fried conch, get the conch strips, and not the fritters. I found that if the conch meat is mixed with bread and other things (like in the fritters) you end up with a mouthful of fried bread bites with no trace of seafood. So, the simple conch strips, battered and fried are more illustrative of actually eating the seafood than the fritters are.
                                            
                                 The conch chowder and the shrimp po' boy
                                                  at Caroline's Cafe 
6. Go up to The Southernmost Point, but skip the insanely long one-hour line. There is a line of tourists wanting to get their picture taken with the infamous landmark that marks this point in the American landscape. Rather, cross the street and take a picture from across it – you will have some crowds in the background, but you will have them being up close anyway. The buoy is very visible from across the street too, and you save an hour of standing on the hot pavement to take the same picture. With the time you gain back, turn your gaze towards the beach behind and around the buoy and watch the pelicans diving for fish and the iguanas basking on the rocks.
7. Stop by a less traveled, less advertised, random key and take in the landscape. We took a side road on Big Pine Key and drove through neighborhoods and into the natural preserves around them. We drove among the mangrove forests at the edge of the water until we reached a “Road Ends” sign. We spotted key deer which are the smallest deer in North America, and known for being hard to find. They were by the side of this very desert road and super friendly. They posed for a while for us, smiling, it seemed. We were actually looking for the No Name Pub - which was recommended to us – the oldest bar in The Keys, apparently (although I think they might compete with Sloppy Joe's of Key West for this title). This pub is famous for having dollar bills stuck all over the interior, about $60k worth, I believe some sites document. The bar itself, although quirky, was not that impressive, but the trip to get to it revealed another layer of beauty of these parts: crystal clear waters, reefs that stretch on forever, forests growing from The Atlantic, and deer …
                                   
                                                      Key deer on Big Pine Key
                                            
                                       The many dollar bills at No Name Pub
8. While in Miami, definitely go all the way to South Beach. I recommend the Art Deco Museum, just to understand a few things about this architecture and its place in America. Then, walk outside and take in the buildings. Each one is unique. Try to identify the architectural elements you learned about in the museum in each one. Makes for fun sightseeing. Feeling the beat of the street is magical – even if you have not seen the entire city of Miami, you sense that South Beach is one of those destinations where the soul of the city really vibrates and where you can really feel it pulsate. Just the heart of a place, distilled to its essence. The constant music and noise, the carefree tourists here to reinvent themselves and to be someone else than they are at home, the drifters in expensive convertibles, here just for the next thrill, the welcomeness of the locals is all part of the Miami vibe. Definitely make time for it.
                                
                                                    South Beach at night
9. Although South Beach is a must see, I do not recommend eating there. Although the food is good, the tripled and quadrupled prices are not worth it. Don't fall into the trap of the hosts luring you in for “Happy Hour.” The Happy Hour prices are huge in South Beach and the options are very limited. You'll end up buying something from the regular menu and they will be mad at you (they want you to get the oversized drinks so they can make their tips) and pay triple what you should be paying for a skewer of five shrimp. Instead, go to South Beach for the atmosphere and a nice walk, and go inland, on Biscayne Bay (where all the cruise ships take off) to any one of the five star hotels that have gourmet restaurants without the hassle and probably just as delicious and unique. It's Miami and they are all competing for the most and the best and the finest.
                                   
                                  The giant drinks at a South Beach restaurant
                           (notice the scale between the Corona bottles
                                                                             and the glasses)
10. Definitely try to get a non-stop flight to Miami from wherever you're coming. You want to spend the least amount of time on a plane and the most amount of time on the ground visiting, eating and taking in the sights. I also strongly recommend the drive from Miami to Key West, instead of flying directly into Key West. The drive on the Overseas Highway, across all of the Florida keys is an experience all in itself. Marvel at the amount of water all around you, stretching up to where it flows off the edge of the earth, it seems. Driving it down at sunset increases the sense of wanderlust. And pick your favorite key and stop for a little. You'll be surprised what it hides.

And as a bonus, yes, when in Key West, wander over to Mallory Square, on the West side of the island, to watch the sunset. For maximum visibility, go early and find a table right next to the railings at Margaritaville in Mallory Square. Sip a beer with a lime in it, and have a snack, then sit comfortably in your chair and wait for the sky show to start. This way, you ensure no crowds between you and the water. It is the perfect ending to a day filled of adventure.

I happen to think that every sunset is special. Every sunset is a reminder that the world still moves and things are still in balance. I also think there are no two sunsets alike. Ever. The light is different with every one, the clouds are different, and even the color of the water is different every day. There is something extra special about sunsets in Key West, though: after driving to what seems like the end of the planet, watching the world saying “good night” to light is magical in its intrinsic closure. You do have a stronger sense of ending and complete and irreversible finish, than in no other place. What is there to see beyond the last spot on the planet?! Nothing but a complete surrender to the water and to the skies. Key West gives you this feeling like no other place. But the rest of the reasons to go visit are worth this trip, too. I hope you go and I hope you agree. Here's to having a nice trip and making your own “top 10” list soon!

The famous Key West sunset. Click the picture to see the album of this trip. 

The Grand Canyon: The Yin and the Yang of The American West

All blogs have been past due this year. It's no one's fault but my own. I seem to find little time just to chill and write anymore, much to my heart's discontent and desperation. But delay no longer …

We returned to the Southwestern desert about a month ago. Lucky as I have always been, I have reasons to go back for work, and because work would be no fun without play, I plan to see a lot more of the desert when I embark on these mandatory trips. Although I love the trees of North Carolina, the rivers, lakes, and ocean, too, my soul craves the desert every so often. Just like you crave a sunburn in the dead of winter.

We drove down from Utah into Arizona, to see The Grand Canyon for the first time together. We made Page, AZ our base-camp, and we traveled from there to The South Rim the first day and to the North Rim the second day.

I have said this before numberless times: anyone should experience driving through the desert at least once in their lifetime. The open space, the desolation, the solitary confinement between you and God, the hopelessness of hitting nothing but red and dust and rock and short and spikey prairie grasses does things to your brain and your heart that you can only feel; I cannot put into words well enough to tell you what that feeling is like. Not to mention that it is probably different for each one of us. One thing that I know for sure is that the desert will never leave you untouched, unstirred to your core, and unmoved... It's one of those experiences that I guarantee will change your life, or at the very least your perspective.

Every time when I drive through the desert and I take it in through my eyes, and nostrils, and ears, my mind brims with its vastness and never-endingness. There is some similarity, in my head, between the vastness of the ocean and that of the desert. No wonder that they tell us that the desert was once an ocean … I don't find that impossible one bit.

Page is a little bedroom community, it seems, for folks vising the Lake Powell and Glen Canyon areas, or The Grand Canyon. I know one person who grew up there, but even he says “it was only temporary.” This is the land of The Southwest, where adobe houses and Mexican food are good friends, where Navajo Indians hail from, and where peachy-pink sunsets are born. If you're quiet enough, you can hear the many centuries of history this land endured, from the territorial wars with Mexico, to those of The White Men submitting The Indians. The thousand years of traditions that the Colorado washed by, most of them unknown and undocumented, but only undug and guessed at by curious, lonely, university savants.

As many millions or billions of people in the world, I had seen The Grand Canyon in many pictures, magazines, movies, commercials and the like. I had some idea of what it would look like. But of course being on the edge of this big gaping hole, seen even from Space, is different than looking at a postcard. The one thing that shocked me was the incredible difference between the South and the North Rims. They are truly as different as the Yin and the Yang of a Chinese symbol.

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

The South Rim is what we saw first. This is the Yang, full of light, screaming bright red and orange hues, and flooded in sunlight. This is the poster child of Arizona, as we all imagine it. It was also the most crowded and busiest. As gorgeous as the landscape was, I would not be fair to not tell you, it was also the most touristy and somewhat cheesiest. If you looked past the human factor, it was as saintly and majestic of a cathedral as all the other God given beauties of the world!

Grand Canyon -  South Rim 

Our world got darker the second day, and not just because it started raining pretty much as you left our hotel in Page. Driving to the North Rim was incredibly similar to driving towards Yellowstone National Park or maybe Glacier National in Montana. We could tell we were much higher than when we were at the top of the South Rim, the day before: the pine forests and the ashes never seem to grow lavishly and freely under 8000 or so feet. Once we stopped at the Visitors' Center for the North Rim, it all seemed dead. Deserted and locked away for the winter. No facilities were open, and the handful of visitors were pretty quiet and reserved. Not the cackling crowd of the day before, on the Yang Rim. It was also cold. Bitter windy and cold.

Grand Canyon -  North Rim at Bright Angel Point

You cannot park right next to the rim in The North, like we could the day before. After you park you have to hike a ways through the parking lot, and then through trails to actually arrive at the end of Bright Angel Point and see the canyon below. The canyon walls here are closer to each other, and much, much darker: the landscape turns from the brilliant red and orange into dark greens and blacks in The North. It is as if you are not even looking at the same formation anymore. The Colorado is down there, you think, for you cannot see it, and the terraces slope down towards it, just like you would expect. Yet, the closeness of the two cliffs and the dark colors make you wonder if you are standing at the top of the Going to the Sun road in Glacier National, or truly at the top of The Grand Canyon.

On the North Rim you are in the midst of the Yin of The American Grand Canyon: dark, secretive, hidden, obscure and remote. If you ever saw The North Rim out of the context of its state, and were asked to place it in any American State, Arizona would never come to mind. There was a bluish – grayish haze in the air, maybe the earlier rain that day, or maybe the cold breath of the canyon vegetation. Who knows?! If the South Rim looked like a Florida naked body, scorched in the sun and ready for the next fruity drink, the North looked like an old, grumpy bear, heavy and dark, wanting to be left alone, back turned towards the world while entering its caverns.

There was a strange mystery about The North Rim, a secrecy that one could not decipher. There was an eerie silence and no sound except the breeze through the trees around us echoing into the deep, dark valley below. You could stand unmoved and think the world is dead around you. And then, a baby snake crossed our path reminding us the world is still very much alive, yet.

One thing you cannot help but wonder about when you oversee such ancient, wild, and untouched beauty is the passing of time. I always wonder what such land looked like millions of years ago – I am sure it was different, but I am also sure it was just as gorgeous as it is today. What I hope for the world is that we are smart enough to keep this incomparable beauty untouched, keep its secrets hidden, its trails crooked and trees afresh for the millions of people that will come after us.

What I felt at the top of this huge gap was lucky: to be alive, to be able to move and get there, to be able to see, and smell, and taste the cold, dry air of the desert. I also felt grateful and moved that I am equipped with the right emotional package to understand the depth of the world in front of me, literal, or otherwise.

I could write volumes about how I felt and what I saw and not a word of it would help you understand the same that I understood when I was there. All I can advise you to do is make time from your busy life and go experience it: drive through the desert, search for the spots the most hidden and let your heart listen; let your eye watch. And come back transformed.

My sister and I have talked for years about how we must go away for a while, periodically, remove ourselves from our routines and recharge our batteries. If we don't do this a couple of times a year, just go, hide, and listen to the wind in the trees or a river, or the sound of the ocean waves, or the sound of deep, unshattered silence under the starry skies, whatever … we would never be able to get out of bed and do our daily routines ever again. We would never be able to face this crazy world with all the bad, disappointing news in it. This was one of those purging trips! Recharged and life counter is now back to 0.

I will close with some wiser and more talented words than mine, just to give you a better description than I could put together of this wide-open, universe-famous, all American gem:

“It seems like a gigantic statement for even Nature to make all in one mighty stone word. Wildness so Godful, cosmic, primeval, bestows a new sense of earth's beauty and size. . . . But the colors, the living, rejoicing colors, chanting morning and evening in chorus to heaven! Whose brush or pencil, however lovingly inspired, can give us these? In the supreme flaming glory of sunset the whole canyon is transfigured, as if the life and light of centuries of sunshine stored up in the rocks was now being poured forth as from one glorious fountain, flooding both earth and Sky." (John Muir)

Grand Canyon -  North Rim
Click the picture to view the entire album from this trip