Category Archives: Claudia’s Trips

Discovering Nova Scotia: Part 2—Earltown to New Glasgow

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photo-9Tucked away in Earltown’s Cobequid Hills, Sugar Moon Farm is a family owned sugar camp renowned for its maple products, especially its pancakes and the liquid gold you pour on them. I’d taken Highway 102 north from Halifax and on the way made a pit stop in Truro to visit the Glooscap Heritage Centre. The Mi’kmaw are Nova Scotia’s Aboriginal people and this museum celebrates their culture and legends. Afterwards, a small hike in Victoria Park, where I barely made a dent in its 1,000 acres of natural beauty, got my appetite going.

Open year-round, Sugar Moon Farm’s log cabin restaurant with its seasonal and local menu attracts visitors far and wide. It’s as popular for its food and tours, as for its access to hiking and biking trails, skiing, and snowshoeing. The only thing better than working out is the reward of eating good food afterwards.

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There’s good stuff cooking at Sugar Moon Farm.

Quinta Gray who runs the business with her husband let me sample the cream of their crop. A bit of a maple freak, I fell for a mid-season harvest and some of the best stuff I’ve ever tasted. Along with fresh-baked biscuits with maple butter and some maple baked beans, I made quick work of a stack of stoneground organic wholegrain buttermilk pancakes. Their all-you-can-eat service kept any pangs of guilt away. Throughout the year Sugar Moon features chef nights to showcase some of Nova Scotia’s finest. Day or night, single or traveling with a family, it’s a sweet spot for a getaway and I left trying to figure out how to make that happen.

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Celtic spirit isn’t hard to find in New Glasgow.

A visit to the riverside town of New Glasgow, founded by Scottish settlers, found the culture and spirit of this Gaelic community alive and kicking. At the indoor-outdoor New Glasgow Theatre, two young girls in green plaid skirts performed a traditional highland dance. Their black leather laced slippered feet whispering across the worn and weathered wooden planks of the gazebo. A festival town, one of its most popular attractions is The New Glasgow Riverfront Jubilee. Held every August, it showcases domestic musicians and is a great way to get turned on to old and new sounds in its lovely outdoor setting along a lazy river. Camping, B&Bs, and more traditional hotels accommodate the thousands of visitors who gravitate to this town throughout the year for its music and hospitality.

Next Stop: On the road and headed for Antigonish, known for its Highland Games, beloved St. FX University and…food.

Discovering Nova Scotia—Tag Along On My Road Trip.

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IMG_1800While a good problem to have, deciding on a travel destination can sometimes be tricky. As someone who’s been lucky enough to have visited many incredible places, gearing up for a trip that’ll take me to the other side of the planet often involves a lot of pre-planning, whether that involves the friends who’ll go with me or the budget needed to finance it. As a New Yorker, I often gravitate to flights headed east or south of my country’s border.

People often travel far from home to experience bucket list destinations. The further away, the more the idea of a place seems to excite them. I’m guilty of it myself, yet in doing that we might overlook some incredible opportunities within our own country or continent. A recent road trip to Nova Scotia was a surprising and refreshing reminder that amazing experiences can be had closer to home. I’ve traveled to Canada multiple times, skied Quebec’s Mont Sainte-Anne, shopped the streets of Montreal, lived in Toronto for a brief period, and marveled at Vancouver’s beauty. But after a week exploring the Nova Scotia region that offers the warmest ocean beaches in Atlantic Canada, like a fish—I’m hooked.

The road trip would take me along the Northumberland Shore, known for its natural beauty, warm waters and fresh seafood. At a cocktail reception my first night in Halifax, I feasted on lobster roll sliders and a seafood chowder made with coconut milk, lemongrass, and a hint of heat, that was so ridiculously delicious had I not been in public, I would have licked the bowl. Heaven appeared in the form of a very generous slice of blueberry pie, courtesy of Between the Bushes in the Annapolis Valley.

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Perfect pie, the only time I don’t mind being blue in the face! (Photo by author.)

Nova Scotia is known for the wild blueberries that grow in its fertile ground and it produces over forty million pounds a year. Nothing says summer like blueberry pie and after what seemed like a never-ending winter, the unmistakable and indelible flavor of that inky fruit was like a trumpet call to the taste buds.

Its health benefits are another plus. Van Dyk’s 100% Wild Blueberry Juice, would be the first Canadian item that would make its way into my luggage. When I learned about the Wild Blueberry Harvest Festival in August, my summer holiday plans began recalibrating. If you go wild for summer fruit, it’s just one of many reasons to pick this province.

Road trips and food trip are a match made in heaven. (Photo by author.)

Road trips and food trucks are a match made in heaven. (Photo by author.)

Food often plays a large part in most travel experiences. I wasn’t sure what to expect in Nova Scotia and one of the first things to impress me was the cuisine. While it’s not part of my food regime, I was surprised to find gluten-free or vegan offerings no matter where I went.  Traveling through the natural beauty of farmland and coastline, my road trip would take me through small towns. With its strong Scottish heritage, hospitality is a hallmark of Nova Scotia and from the time I arrived, it showed in every welcome I received and in every bit of food served, from food trucks to fine dining. If what I’d inhaled in Halifax was a hint of what lay in store for me, than I was heading for foodie paradise.

The flip side, thankfully, is that the province is also hailed for its access to top-notch outdoors adventure. From biking trails, kayaking, golfing, sailing, surfing, tidal bore rafting—you name it, when it comes to exercise in Nova Scotia the world is your oyster. Whether or not I made the choice to work it all off was up to me!

Join me over the next few days as I head north out of Halifax towards those warm waters…

All Caught Up In the (Beautiful) Game.

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KansasCity

Who knew Kansas City had such a strong futbol fan base?

I can’t believe it but I’ve caught the fever.  World Cup fever, that is.

A friend opened a bar in my neighborhood during the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa.  In support of my new local, I logged a lot of time there and watched a handful of games.  Although it’s been said this kind of fever is contagious, I walked away entertained but unscathed.

This time, something changed—Brazil 2014.

Maybe my resistance was low. I’d just returned from a road trip where I was out early and up late. If I had to pinpoint it, maybe it began when I somehow succumbed to watching the Brazil vs. Chile match. From there, things just heated up. I found myself crying over Mexico’s heartbreaking loss to The Netherlands, swooning when Colombia beat Uruguay, and delirious when Costa Rica defeated Greece.

Before the angony of defeat. (Photo credit: YASUYOSHI CHIBA/AFP/Getty Images)

Before the agony of defeat. (Photo credit: YASUYOSHI CHIBA/AFP/Getty Images)

In 1994 the US hosted the World Cup. To earn that gig, it had to start a national league. Since then, interest has operated at a simmer but after all these years America’s passion over soccer has finally reached a rolling boil. Especially among younger viewers. This is a great thing. Bars are full with men—and women. This means relationships—platonic and romantic—will be made the good old-fashioned way.

While American football prides itself as the game of this country, interest in soccer looks like it’s truly ready to take the field. It might take Americans awhile to wrap their heads around how a game can end with a tie 0-0, but they’ll get it one day. When the US made it through the group stages, it really set things afire for fans. The World Cup is breaking social media records and the US vs. Belgium match was one of the most Tweeted events ever.

Not that our boys ever had a chance.  It’s the one game we don’t own.  Unlike South Americans, and other folks who’ve been at it since infancy, it’s not a game that’s in America’s bloodstream and it’s probably going to take a lot more years to get there.  Like the gorgeous Brazilian model says in the Kia ad, “In my country, this is futbol.”

But that’s okay. Independence Day is tomorrow and you can still celebrate.

After the United States lost the knockout game, the country’s collective anxiety is gone. So pick a team, sit back and enjoy the quarter finals.  Take your passion, have a word with your ego and lose it in another country’s national identity. Hell, you might even find yourself hootin’ and hollerin’ for them.

The only thing more exciting than watching a match is watching the enthusiasm that a country’s fans bring with them to a game. It’s a beautiful thing. World Cup watch parties are being shown in parks from sea to shining sea across this country. Find one and have some fun.

Wherever you are, or whatever your sport, Happy Independence Day.

I’ll be rooting for Colombia, whose goal celebrations can’t be missed!

Wandering In Whitstable.

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Whitstable's beach huts.

Whitstable’s beach huts.

The steely green water dragged millions of small rocks and shells back into the ocean, sounding like a stylus at the end of a record that keeps going around and around. A thin and wispy cloud blanket crossed a cobalt sky and seagulls soared and dipped. Their screeching echoed across the beach. Behind me a row of pretty beach cabanas, each one named and painted a bright and different color sat locked and waiting, like debutantes itching to get to the ball. I was in Whitstable and even though it was March in England, I was happy as a clam to be on a shoreline.

Spring came early to Southern England this year and the counties around London are beaming. Daffodils and their cheerful faces greet you from front walks and along the motorways. Here on family business, I had a free day before flying home and as much as I’d have liked to roam around London, I wasn’t up for being around crowds. Staying in Hertfordshire, a northern suburb of London, I was looking for a place that wasn’t too much of hike but far enough that it would feel like I’d gone away. I stumbled upon Whitstable, a beach town on the north coast of Kent known for its seafood. Just over an hour by car, it was the perfect getaway so off I went.

The drive south along the M25, to the Dartford Bridge Crossing, to the M2 was a breeze. I suppose it being late morning on a Thursday might have had something to do with it. The sun was blazing, the windows were down and the borrowed car had a Hollies cd in it, so, really, what more could you ask?

Horses grazed along the shamrock green hills that rolled along either side of the motorway and cherry blossom trees stood out like cotton candy amongst gloomier neighbors. Manicured rows of apple orchards and other fruit farms made for a pretty journey and before long I was turning off towards Whitstable.

Within minutes I was driving along the high street towards the harbor, passing flower shops, bakeries, interior design stores, galleries, pharmacies, and all of the traditional goods needed for everyday living. It was a relief to be in a town that hasn’t been malled by big box stores. Before you reach the seaside, there are loads of little hotels, restaurants and cafes. It’s a bustling street and with its proximity to London once the summer season opens it must be jammed. As much as I’d have liked to stroll around, with only a few hours to spare the ocean was calling.

Wonderful Whitstable. (Photo credit: D. Powell)

Wonderful Whitstable. (Photo credit: D. Powell)

Crunching along the gravely beach, I picked through oyster shells bleached white by the sun and the tides. Tiny nautilus, other baby seashells, and smooth rocks in hues of blue to pale gray carpeted the beach like confetti. Heading west along the paved shore promenade, locals walked their dogs, and bicyclists and joggers did their thing. Inspiration to get off the couch just might be easier in this stretch of paradise.

Fresh good stuff.

Fresh good stuff.

Low slung hotels and “rooms to let” with ocean views are sprinkled all along this coastline and even though it wasn’t high season, this part of Whitstable seemed quieter. I found Jo Jo’s, a café with lots of yummy food, ordered a honey pistachio cake and coffee, then made myself at home on the patio at a weather-beaten wooden table, smiling at the superb view. It was a slice of heaven, this Whitstable. Moments later a waitress asked some locals at the next table, “Who ordered the fish finger butty?” All I could think was—I wish I did! This sandwich, a comfort food for Brits of all ages, is traditionally made with cooked frozen fish fingers and placed between two slices of bread but what was being served here was all grown up. Battered pieces of fresh haddock with arugula on a golden roll had me rethinking where I’d eat lunch.

A grotter.

A grotter.

Harvested since the Romans set up shop in England, Whitstable is most famous for its oysters. During the annual Whitstable Oyster Festival, held every July, the town teems with locals and international travelers who come to celebrate this hometown bivalve. This four-day celebration features an oyster blessing, an oyster parade, crabbing and kite-flying competition, and loads of other seaside activities. Grotter building, a local tradition where small mounds of sand are decorated with oyster shells and lit with candles, and a fireworks display wind down the festival. Parking is limited but Whitstable is easily accessed by public transportation and it’s an easy town to walk around. Anyone spending time in London looking for a retreat can hop a train from Victoria Station and within an hour and a half be on the beach. And that’s what I’d come here for.

The beloved bi-valves.

The beloved bi-valves.

Walking back past the harbor, I wove in out of little lanes leading to the sea. The scent of vinegar hung in the air where an older couple shared a bag of fish and chips on a bench that faced the ocean. An old, black dog soaked up the sun at the feet of two crusty local men with red and ruddy faces that gave them a look far older than their years. The Forge, a seaside shack has a counter where you can suck and slurp away Whitstable oysters shucked right on the spot for you. It doesn’t get fresher than that.

Ahoy matey!

Ahoy matey!

Passing the harbor boats and fish market, I made my way along Whitstable Harbor Village with its pop up shops and children’s seaside toys, towards Crab & Winkle Way where I’d seen a sign for The Lobster Shack back on the beach. Facing the water, it was a secluded spot, at least for now, and it seemed like the perfect place to test the seafood waters. Outside, fisherman prepared oyster beds and wooden picnic tables set on the shingle beach welcomed visitors. A Whitstable Brewery Pilsner wet my whistle, and while I couldn’t go for a swim, the half-dozen rock oysters, cod-fish soup, and a perfect bowl of mussels, sweet and coral colored, in a broth of white wine, butter, garlic, onion, carrot, with fresh thyme, provided an altogether different immersive experience.

Fisherman's huts.

Fisherman’s huts.

There are lots of options for overnighting in Whitstable but it was the 150-year old converted fishing huts that caught my eye. Located directly on the beachfront, they were once used to store cockle-farming clutter. Today, these cozy cottages have all the comforts necessary for a short or long stay. Next time, I thought.

Sea Belles await you.

Sea Belles await you.

Elliott’s Coffee Shop provided the perfect excuse to sample some more local sweets. A pretty café that serves breakfast, lunch and dinner, I made off with a carrot cupcake and a coffee for the ride home. But before getting in the car I took a walk along the beach where those colorful cabanas sit simmering for that slow boil towards summer when their doors will burst open to welcome swimmers and sun worshipers.  Hopefully, I’ll be back.

Celebrating St. Patrick’s Day.

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Dublin celebration.

Dublin celebration.

Everybody’s Irish on St. Paddy’s Day. At least that’s how the saying goes.

There certainly is something infectious about St. Patrick’s Day. Perhaps it’s all the merrymaking or maybe it’s just something about the Irish. For cities that go green in honor of the great patron saint, the celebrations can sometimes be hard to avoid.

Anyone who’s ever visited Ireland knows the place is magic. Even my friends from the Emerald Isle who live in the US will tell you the same. Being from or having grown up in Ireland is a different kettle of fish. It’s only by being there that you can truly appreciate and understand the Irish. For Irish-American friends who’ve never been, you have no idea what you’re missing.

County Clare's Cliffs of Moher.

County Clare’s Cliffs of Moher.

To them I’d also say skip the St. Paddy’s Day parade and forgo the hangover you’ll have the next day. Instead be bold and grab a last-minute flight or travel package for the real deal. Anyone touching down in Éire over the next few days will be spoiled for choice with celebrations.

In the States, St. Paddy’s day may be all about parades, beer, corned beef and cabbage but in Ireland it’s a religious holy day and public holiday. Parades are held (pretty much an American import) and festivities take place across the counties. While folks may pop into a pub for a pint, you won’t find the swilling that goes on here. You won’t find any corned beef and cabbage either. Irish immigrants in the US who couldn’t swing for a traditional ham cooked up that dish from kitchen tips they borrowed from Eastern Europeans.

The man had a way with words. (Photo credit: C. Santino)

The man had a way with words. (Photo credit: C. Santino)

What you will find is an incredible culture rich in hospitality, literature, art, and music. Over the centuries, some of the most stimulating, beautiful, and enchanting words to grace a page or guitar note have been gifts from the Irish. Jonathan Swift, James Joyce, Braham Stoker, Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeats, Nuala O’Faolain, Edna O’Brien—the list goes on and on. And what would a playlist be without the likes of Liam Clancy, Van Morrison, U2, or Elvis Costello, to name a few. I mean, really, as cultures go, there’s kind of no contest.

Dublin's Trinity College attracts locals and visitors.

Dublin’s Trinity College attracts locals and visitors.

In terms of hospitality, there’s no welcome like an Irish welcome. They are the land of a thousand welcomes, after all.

During my first visit in 1995, I was overwhelmed by the graciousness and generosity of strangers who directed me to follow their car, or who accompanied me by foot, to ensure I reached my destination.  When it comes to resting your bones, from hostels, to guest houses, to luxury hotels there are loads of lodging.  I like  Ireland’s Blue Book, leaf through it and you’ll understand why.

Before I traveled there, lots of folks said that while I’d probably like Ireland itself, that I’d hate the food. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

The potato famine left an indelible mark on its history but since then Ireland’s come a long way.  Thanks to lots of rain and the  rich and rolling land beneath its feet, the country ‘s long been a leader in the “from farm-to-fork” sustainable food movement.  Something that other parts of Europe, and especially the US,  came late to the party on.

A yummy lunch at Morans on The Weir. (Photo credit: C. Santino)

A yummy lunch at Morans on The Weir. (Photo credit: C. Santino)

On this small island you’ll find the freshest seafood you’re most likely ever to come by. Call me biased but there’s no salmon like Irish salmon. Whether inland or coastal, an afternoon pit stop spent over a piping hot bowl of delicate seafood chowder or plump and buttery mussels that melt in your mouth is heavenly. Some fresh-baked brown granary bread to sop up all the good stuff, and a nice healthy Guinness to chase it all down makes it a perfect meal. Meat lover or vegetarian—bring your appetite, you won’t be disappointed. Darina Allen’s Ballymaloe Cookery School in County Cork is Ireland’s most famous cooking school but as the country’s culinary reputation has grown, several others have popped up. The immersion experience that these schools offer draw professional chefs and foodies from around the globe and do their fair share of contributing to Ireland’s tourism.

Ballymaloe Herb Garden.

Ballymaloe Herb Garden.

If you can’t celebrate the real thing, from Alabama to Wyoming you can probably find a festivity near you. Like the symbolic shamrock, Boston, New York City, and Chicago act as patron city saints for St. Patrick’s Day in the States. If you’re in one of these cities this week, or month, chances you’ll find some good stuff. Check out Boston’s Irish Cultural Center, Chicago’s Irish American Heritage Center, or the Irish Arts Center in NYC.

For folks looking for a quieter experience, throw on some Irish tunes or settle in between the pages of The Granta Book of the Irish Short Story for a magic mix of talent, or How The Irish Saved Civilization. An Irish coffee wouldn’t be a bad idea either.

I don’t know why some people are drawn more to other cultures than their own. Since my first journey to Ireland I’ve been back at least eight times. Yes, I’ve got a thing for the Irish and I’m happy to celebrate them any day of the week.

Sláinte and have a Happy St. Paddy’s Day!

Traveling In the Year of The Horse.

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horseback-safaris

Safari anyone?

On January 31, in galloped the Year of the Horse on the Chinese Lunar Calendar.

A 12-month cycle, the calendar is based on archetypes of 12 animals and 5 elements. 2014’s theme is actually the Yang Wood Horse. Yang represents activity, and the year is considered to be one of high energy, production, movement, and a perfect time to travel.

On that note, I figured why not focus on destinations where horses figure predominately in one way or another.

Whether you like sitting in a saddle or just gazing at these noble creatures, there’s something about being near horses that quiets us. If you’re a horse person, then you probably have an unbridled passion for these animals and know what I’m talking about. There’s something about looking at the world from between a horse’s ears that just feels right. Some folks may say yuck to the smell of a stable but to me it’s a welcoming scent, so let’s go!

The wild horses of the Carmargue.

The wild horses of the Carmargue.

Wild Horses
I’ve only ever seen the Carmargue wild horses on public television but their ghostly beauty is enough for me to get off the couch and book a trip. One of the oldest breeds in the world, they’ve been around since 50,000 B.C.  Carmargue horses live around Saintes Maries de la Mer in southern France, within an area that runs from the Rhone River to the Mediterranean. These pale grey horses roam the marshland and salt marshes of the region and are protected by French law. Their allure draws visitors far and wide who come to paint, ride, photograph or just be near these sturdy ponies. A major tourist destination, the Carmargue Natural Park includes a UNESCO designated biosphere reserve, where each year hundreds of thousands of migrating birds rest for a layover. In addition to the wild horses, the bird wildlife, especially the pink flamingoes, is a major attraction for bird-watchers. Located near Arles, if you’ve got any time on the front or back end of your next stay in Paris, consider a side trip.

Pink flamingos in Carmargue Nature Park.

Pink flamingos in Carmargue Nature Park.

Dressage & Design
Who needs an excuse to visit Italy? The food alone is enough of a reason but when you add the opportunity to take dressage lessons in a place like Castello di Reschio, sign me up. Located in Umbria, this luxurious retreat blends modernity with classic old world aesthetic design that the Italians are oh so good at creating. If you’ve got a thing for design and architecture, these digs will have you over the moon. Depending on how many folks you want around you, the Reschio farmhouse accommodations sleep anywhere between 2 to 14 and will blow you away. Once you see them, it’s a pretty sure bet they’ll have to pry you out by your fingernails. The proximity to Tuscany and the chance to explore the towns that dot its map, or take cooking classes, is another draw. Budget wise, it’s not for the faint of wallet but if you want to learn to ride, or perfect your moves, and feel it’s time to treat yourself to an all around, out of this world experience, then this might be the place for you.

All the pretty horses at Castello di Reschio.

All the pretty horses at Castello di Reschio.

A different point of view at Panagea.

A different point of view at Panagea.

Rawhide
If that’s too rich for your blood and you like it closer to the bone, then Panagea Estancia might be more your speed. This working cattle ranch in the north of Uruguay attracts visitors looking for the real deal of what the life of a South American gaucho, or cowboy, is really like. The ranch doesn’t promote itself from a tourist perspective, but they do welcome travelers who like to rough it. In terms of accommodations, we’re talking bare bones here but if you want to ride, or learn how, brush up on your Spanish, and live life off the grid then this is the place to do it. For $60 a day, you’ll not only get horseback riding lessons but the room and board to go with it. A steal if you ask me.

Race ya! (Photo credit: African Horseback Safaris)

Race ya! (Photo credit: African Horseback Safaris)

Perfect after a day in the saddle.

Saddle Up On Safari
The only thing better than being on safari would be horseback riding while on safari. If you’re an experienced rider, then African Horseback Safaris can deliver that magic. With their Macatoo Camp located on the western side of the Okavango Delta in Botswana, you’ll find yourself in a mecca for wildlife as you race through floodplains, canter along side giraffes or zebra, gaze up at elephants, or follow on the heels of buffalo and antelope. With 4 to 6 hours in the saddle, you’ve got to love it and being able to ride in such a pristine environment is a dream. If your travel buddy doesn’t want to live your fantasy, no problem. Non-riders can enjoy a safari experience by boat or game drive, and whether or not you’re in the saddle the sundowners that’ll greet you at the end of the day will quench your thirst. This outfit also offers Eco-Safaris that you can tag on to your trip. If you’re looking for the ultimate riding experience, this is it.

Flirting with a friend at Flag Is Up Farms.

Flirting with a friend at Flag Is Up Farms.

Join Up
If being on the back of a horse isn’t your thing, and you’re simply looking to get a better understanding of these creatures, consider a visit to Flag Is Up Farms. Owned and operated by Monty Roberts, best-selling author of The Man Who Listens to Horses, this farm offers courses on horse behavior, horsemanship, and how to communicate with these animals through the language of Equus. Roberts’ pioneered a non-violent approach to working with horses years ago, which he eventually coined Join-Up®. It’s a philosophy based on learning the  unspoken language of horses that creates a trust-based foundation in a cooperative environment. Through subtle body movements and gestures, students work individually with horses in a high-walled, round-pen and experience for themselves this silent method of communication. It was a pretty thrilling experience for this Brooklyn girl and drinking a few juicy glasses of local red wine at the end of each night was a pretty sweet treat. Flag is Up is nicely set amongst the rolling hills of Santa Ynez wine valley and while they don’t offer accommodations, there are a variety available in the nearby towns of Solvang and Buellton. With its emphasis on communication, the real value of Join-Up® is that it can be applied to any relationship and the course attracts people from all walks of life including CEOs, veterans suffering from PTSD, abused women, children, educators, and medical clinicians.  Even the Queen of England endorses Join-Up® and over the years of his providing services to Britain’s racing establishment, in 2011 Monty was made an honorary Member of the Royal Victorian Order.

A New Forest Cottage.

A New Forest Cottage.

Pony Up
Whether you want to ride or just be around horses, the inhabitants of the New Forest, in Hampshire, England, will intrigue you. Roaming freely through the land are the famous New Forest Ponies, a band of about 3,000 whose mere presence contributes to the country’s tourism. These pretty ponies have run wild in these woodlands for 2,000 years and are cared

New Forest Ponies.

New Forest Ponies.

for by New Forest Commoners (local land owners). Visitors come just to watch the ponies, attracted by their gentle nature and beauty, as well as the romance and history of these creatures. Whether you’re a novice or advanced rider, there are a handful of stables in the forest that will saddle you up for lessons, riding, or a leisurely trek. The opportunity to enjoy a car-free journey is another plus, as you can easily hop a train from London. Once there, renting a bike is one of the most popular choices for exploring the area. There’s also a coastline where you can enjoy a shoreline stroll or hop a small ferry to Hurst Castle & Lighthouse. Book a room in one of the New Forest Cottages, and you’ll really feel like you’re in an enchanted forest.

The Chinese believe that the Horse year represents freedom and that when it comes to travel the further away you go, the better.

It’s also believed that you have to act fast in a Horse Year.  So if you’ve got an itch to go somewhere, giddy up!

Game Plan For Super Bowl Sunday.

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Aire Ancient Baths in NYC

Aire Ancient Baths in NYC.

While New York City has more than its fair share of football lovers, culturally we’re not a football town. I mean, when you think New York City, football isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.

That’s about to change when football fever descends here next week in anticipation of Super Bowl XLVIII, co-hosted by New York and New Jersey.

From a tourism perspective, it’s great news. And while I certainly appreciate getting excited over a sport, when it comes to football I’d rather watch paint dry.

I’m not alone here, there are plenty of men—yes, men—and women who share my disinterest. There’s no shame in it, but it’s going to be a little hard to avoid all of the madness when it comes to town.

But there’s no need to lay low. Since the fans will either be on their couch, or in a bar, or tailgating in the winds of another polar vortex gearing up with pre-game anticipation, it’s the perfect excuse to enjoy some alone time or take advantage of the lull that’ll blanket the city on game day.

Count me out.

Count me out.

With that in mind, here are a few suggestions for anyone in or around NYC looking to avoid any football festivities or criticism over giving the game a cold shoulder.

Eat & Shop
Let’s face it; one of the best things about living or visiting NYC and its surrounding boroughs is the exposure to some of tastiest food and shopping on the planet. Life gets even better when you can get it all under a warm roof and that’s what you’ll find when you visit Brooklyn Flea and Smorgasburg. Known as a fortress of food, fashion, antiques, art and lots of other cool stuff, this weekend market has become a top attraction for locals and visitors, offering a unique alternative to the boring, big-box retail store experience.

Show Time
For anyone who still enjoys the experience of sitting in a movie theatre with a bucket of popcorn, here’s your chance. With the Oscars just around the corner, it’s the perfect opportunity to catch up on any films you might have missed without the crowds.

Pamper Yourself
Who doesn’t love a massage? Take advantage of the desire to escape by indulging yourself in a body or facial treatment.  Better yet, get a gang together.  Depending on where you live, I bet there’s a spa in your neighborhood or at a fancy hotel that’ll have what you’re looking for and without a TV screen in sight.

An easy place to while away the day.

Looks like a good plan to me.

Weekend Getaway
With everyone either heading towards New Jersey, this is the perfect weekend to travel in another direction. And with the recent snowfall, you couldn’t ask for a better time to hit the slopes. If being active isn’t your thing, no sweat. The arctic chill is the perfect excuse to hole up by a roaring fire with the Sunday paper or that book you’ve been meaning to read. The best part is, with some of the great options for winter getaway transportation you don’t have to worry about driving.

Go Downhill
The word on the street is that from next Wednesday until Saturday, Broadway from 34th to 47th streets will be transformed into Super Bowl Boulevard. With businesses in full swing, this already crazy and busy stretch of Manhattan will morph into a 14 block, open-air football festival. Yes, it will showcase all things NFL but it will also have a 180-foot toboggan run. Any excuse to hop a sled works for me, so I may have to suck it up and check it out.

A rendering of Super Bowl Boulevard.

A rendering of Super Bowl Boulevard.

There may be those who succumb to the fever and just need to grab a pitcher and a chicken wing. So on game day, for anyone whose idea of a good time is not sitting in the stands and freezing your butt off, there are plenty of bars that have a warm seat waiting for you. If your goal is to stay cozy and be part of the festivities, the NFL Host Committee has done a nice job of laying out Fan Favorite Sports Bars in NJ and NY. Although since pretty much any bar worth its margarita salt will be showing the game, I’d say you’re covered.

As for me, I intend to huddle up in my cozy apartment, read, bake, eat and enjoy my own pre-show festivities in anticipation of the next episode of True Detective.

Whatever you’re doing, stay warm and enjoy.

Happy 2014! Dive Right In, The Water’s Fine.

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Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge, New Year's Day 2014, Coney Island, Brooklyn, winter swimming,

I’m certified! Post swim at Coney Island.

Happy New Year! I hope it’s off to an incredible start.

After writing my last post of 2013, I thought—what the hell, why watch from the sidelines of life? So I threw myself into the frigid waters of Coney Island with the Polar Bear Club and the rest of the freaky folks who greet the New Year boldly with a running leap.

Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge 2014, New Year's Day 2014, Coney Island, Brooklyn

Brrrrr.

And you know what? It wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was downright exhilarating and it’s going down in my book as the best New Year’s Day ever. After a shot of Jameson at Ruby’s, I met a bunch of folks on the boardwalk and we warmed our bones by dancing the afternoon away.

Boardwalk at Stillwell Ave, Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge 2014, New Year's Day 2014, Coney Island

Metrocard Man had unlimited dance moves.

So I started a new tradition and have set my sights on living bravely in 2014. I’m adding new travel destinations and experiences to my list and I hope you are too.  But what was really great is that in taking part in the Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge, I raised money for charity and started the year off doing two great things.

Do you have any New Year traditions or travel any place special? If so, I’d love to hear about it.

So Long 2013—Taking The Polar Bear Plunge.

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2012polarbearplunge
As you prepare to celebrate New Year’s Eve, I hope you can look back and see only good things behind you. And while the anticipation around this evening builds, I’ve come to relish New Year’s Day much more than the night before.

The reasons are obvious, of course—a new day, a new year. But the tradition of standing along the shoreline while close to 3,000 people hightail it towards the frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean like they were being chased by the hounds of hell is a great metaphor for life. It’s resolution time. None of this sticking your toe in to test the icy waters of change—live bravely and dive right in.

New Year's Baby.

New Year’s Baby.

This year marks the 113th anniversary of the annual Coney Island Polar Bear Club Plunge and it’s a great reason not to sleep in.  For starters, it happens at the reasonable hour of 1:00pm, which gives you enough cushion to make yourself presentable or clear out a fuzzy head. Secondly, it gives you time to either knock up a killer breakfast or pop over to a local diner and start the year off right by treating your self to a good meal. But most importantly, it gets you outside in the salt sea air and deposits you in an energy field of kookiness and courage, with some folks dressed as mermaids, penguins, polar bears or big babies in diapers. Coney’s always let its freak flag fly and with temps forecast for the mid-20s on New Year’s Day, it seems fitting that this annual madness takes place there.

Polar bear plunges happen in Canada, the UK, Netherlands, and in a few more cities across the U.S. but I’m kind of proud of the one we’ve got here in Brooklyn. For starters, with almost every subway line throughout the boroughs barreling directly to Coney, or connecting to a train that does, it’s a destination that you can get to lickety-split. Once you arrive, just head towards the shoreline. You can’t miss it, or the massive crowd all bundled up and bracing themselves for what most folks consider sheer lunacy. People come from around the globe to take part in or witness the plunge.

Hubba-hubba -- The Father of Physical Culture.

Hubba-hubba — The Father of Physical Culture.

The club was founded in 1903 by Bernarr Macfadden, also knows as “The Father of Physical Culture.” He believed a dip in the ocean during the winter could be a boon to one’s stamina, virility and immunity. Considered a bit of a kook himself, he was the kind of person who made things happen. He constantly reinvented himself and in the process became a millionaire. He was also a writer and when he couldn’t get published he started a publishing company. The guy went on to become the most successful publisher of magazines in history. He also inspired people around the world to live healthy. It’s among that kind of spirit, and with that type of energy, that makes it a great way to start the year.

Standing there, you’ll also have a massive smile plastered on your face while you probably think, “better those nuts than me” and hear the screams from what’s on the other end of that running leap. But I don’t think they’re so nuts. Most of us have to be pushed to do something bold or to change. Being around loads of people who brave the freezing water and take that icy plunge inspires me to live on the edge of my comfort zone and stokes the philosophy to “just do it.”

If you’re anywhere throughout the five boroughs on New Year’s Day, wrap up, pack a thermos of hot cocoa or a flash of whiskey and consider coming out to Coney Island. It’s one big love fest and after the plunge the party carries on with the rhythmic beats of a DJ on the boardwalk at Stillwell. And don’t forget your camera.

If you’re going, let me know and maybe I’ll see you there.

Wherever you are in the world, I wish you a safe and Happy New Year!

Mousehole Memories.

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The Mousehole Cat, Mousehole, Cornwall

Mousehole. (Illustration: Nicola Bayley)

One Christmas many years ago, I woke way too early and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I ended up watching British Christmas stories on Public Television. One stuck with me, The Mousehole Cat.

Tom & Mowzer. (Illustration: Nicola Bayley)

Tom & Mowzer. (Illustration: Nicola Bayley)

It was the story of Mowzer, a cat, and of her fisherman, Tom. They lived in the Cornish fishing village of Mousehole,  (pronounced Mowzal) named for its tiny harbor with a narrow mouth that hid the town’s small boats  safely behind the rock wall. The vivid illustration was eye-catching and the narrated story told the curious tale of these two soul mates that sailed the sea together to bring back a daily catch of hake, ling, launces and fairmaids. It portrayed a town life of community, animals, of sustenance from the sea, the cruelty of Mother Nature, and of love. At the end of the story the illustration dissolves into scenes of real life taking place in Mousehole during Christmas. It was inviting and if you’ve ever visited Cornwall, you’d appreciate everything you might think the season would look and feel like in this small, seaside town. I was hooked.

The following Christmas my boyfriend’s parents, who live in England, gave me the book, The Mousehole Cat. A year later he took me to Mousehole and I felt like I was in the book. It was just as picturesque, inviting, and charming as it appeared in the story. Mousehole is a hilly and curvy town with winding alleys and there were cats everywhere. Cats on cars, cat sitting all about the cobble-stoned lanes, cats in gardens, cats lounging in front of shops. We drove very slow. And there was also the mouse-hole shaped harbor, just like in the book.

The Mousehole Cat, Antonia Barber, Nicola Bayley

Mowzer’s & Tom’s daily catch. (Illustration: Nicola Bayley)

Such a safe and pretty harbor.

Such a safe and pretty harbor.

We booked into an inn that looked out over the harbor where colorful fishing boats bobbed about. Then we freshened up and strolled the town. Us Americans seem to fall easily for the quaintness of English culture and here I was surrounded by it. My guy, born and raised across the pond, seemed to get a kick out my enthusiasm.  Seeing as how he’d never been to this part of Cornwall, he gave into the magic of it all as well.

At a small café we enjoyed Cornish pasties and, even though I didn’t need them, afterwards I stuffed my face with fresh cream and scones. We popped into a few local art galleries and passed gardens exploding with flora and fauna typically seen in warmer zones.  Stone cottages with flower boxes overflowing with bright purple petunias, scarlet million bells, and host of other bright petals in various hues of blues and yellows were inviting.  The cliff walk welcomed us with briny air and a carpet of wildflowers. Mousehole is designated an “Area Of Outstanding National Beauty” by the British National Trust. With its natural beauty, charismatic culture and atmosphere, it easily earns that distinction. Because of its sheltered coast and mild climate, there’s a whole ecosystem going on here.

Mousehole, Cornwall, England, United Kingdom, cats

Mousehole cats chilling out.

Back in the room I gazed out on the harbor, thinking about Mowzer and Tom. That night we enjoyed dinner in a local pub, The Ship Inn, surrounded by locals. Fisherman hugged the brass rail, drinking amber lager or ale with thick beards of foam. We had cider, shared a bowl of Cornish mussels and sopped up every drop of the garlicky, white wine sauce with granary bread. I ordered the John Dory but I really wanted star-gazy pie, a traditional Cornish dish made with pilchards, eggs and potatoes but it wasn’t on the menu that night. It’s baked in a pie dish, with fish heads and tails popping out the pastry crust, just like in the book.

Each year on December 23 Mousehole welcome locals and visitors to celebrate Tom Bawcock’s Eve. The festival is a celebration of this legendary Mousehole fisherman who risked his life during a severe storm to end the famine that had come to the town. The festivities include a lantern procession and lots of star-gazy pie. Antonia Barber, inspired by the legend and the tradition, made Tom more famous when she wrote The Mousehole Cat and partnered with Nicola Bayley who created the fine and imaginative illustration.

Mousehole, Cornall, Christmas, England, illuminations, Britian

Christmas time in Mousehole.

This year, Mousehole celebrates its 50th anniversary of Christmas illuminations. This little town puts on one of England’s most spectacular displays that lights up the harbor, raises money for charity and draw people far and wide. The celebrations kicked off this past Saturday and will run to January 4.

Tintagel Caste, Merlin's Cave, Cornwall, Cornish coast, England, United Kingdom, ruins

Tintagel Castle.

We traveled by car from London to Mousehole. The trip took about four hours and we stopped along the way for treats. I almost caused an accident when my guy said, “There’s Stonehenge” and in my excitement slammed on the breaks and asked where? But come on, it’s not every day you see a historic druid monument just off a motorway.  And I was driving on the wrong side of the road, on the road side of the car.  After Mousehole we tripped along the Cornish coastline, drove through pretty towns along single lane roads tunneled by hedges so high all you can see is the sky above you.  We passed through Land’s End and visited the ruins of  Tintagel Castle, where Merlin’s Cave is said to lay beneath along sparkling, cobalt blue water.

My visit was a treasure and as much as I’d like to be in Mousehole right now, I’m content with my own little tradition. I’ll curl up on the coach with a steaming cup of English tea and The Mousehole Cat. I may even take a crack at whipping up a star-gazy pie this year, although I may have to substitute the pilchards.

Ever been to Mousehole? If so, I’d love to hear your stories. If not, here’s a peek (but if you don’t see the link below then just click here):