WANDERLUST

Jet Lag Journal: Ocho Rios, Jamaica

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In January, I was hunkered down in my office literally pounding both fists on my desk and groaning like a baby grizzly. The floor to ceiling windows behind me, while normally a perk, were showered all day with hail – plunk….plunkplunk….puh-LUNK – and it was just so gray and disgusting that I was convinced I would never see sun again. That persistent gray and precipitation – it is just soul-sucking. Like Ghost of Jacob Marley-type soul-sucking. I whined and whined. And then I turned my head ever so slightly to the left and looked at my roommate Dewi, who was similarly moaning and groaning and pounding and whining, and said “UGH. Let’s just get out of here and go to Jamaica.” She shrugged and said, “Well, OK. Book it.” She was too busy to plan so … I was in charge! My favorite thing! Being in charge of fun!

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The High Line Hotel’s Tiny Attic Jewelbox

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Way up on the top floor of the High Line Hotel, overlooking the snowy courtyard, is a tiny corner jewelbox of a room. With two dormer windows, a worn and colorful oriental rug, graphic blue wallpaper, and cup full of sharpened pencils (my favorite!), the room was such a cozy getaway. The High Line Hotel is two blocks away from my apartment, and I spend every Saturday morning here with a cup of Intelligentsia coffee and little sketching journal. When I saw a 20% off sale on Tablet, I booked months and months in advance. I love having something sweet to look forward to in the middle of winter.

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Chicks in the Sticks: Winvian Winter

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It has been a fantasy for years and years to stay at a Relais & Châteaux property. They are just always so expensive that I can’t afford them. Well, I still can’t afford them. At Winvian Farm, the cheapest night is Tuesday. They close down the restaurant and the spa, and it’s in the woods so it’s not exactly conveniently located to restaurants, and it was still over $800 a night! No matter. I have a sidekick and I make her pay for half of everything I do. We headed for Morris, Connecticut on a Tuesday morning, armed with wine, cheese, and cookies, for a single night at Winvian Farm.

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Making Ourselves at Home in Greenport

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Behold: my dream weekend home. Available to me on Airbnb without actually having to pay for any maintenance. This house is located on the North Fork of Long Island in the quaint town of Greenport, and is located on Carpenter Street which is within easy walking distance of the main shopping and restaurant drag. The two halves of All + Sundry, plus our super-duper sidekick Erinn rented this beautiful house for the weekend. With huge barn doors on either side of the shingle-style house with diamond-shaped windowpanes, the light in this home is remarkable. I could not help but take pictures of everything. Ev. Er. Y. Thing. Including a beautiful watercolor of the house, that was just lying around on the floor of a closet where I was hanging my coat! Below is a condensed version of my snap-happy time in the house.

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Chicks in the Sticks: Greenport, NY

I frequently post about lovely trips to the South Fork of Long Island (Southampton specifically, with its museumsshopping, and wineries) but recently the two halves of A+S joined up for a weekend in the beautiful North Fork. Greenport is a quaint village that was settled in the 1600s by colonists from New Haven who sailed across Long Island Sound and figured they went far enough.

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LINE Hotel: A Study in Concrete and Simplicity

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I had a single night to spend in Los Angeles on my own before an early rise to Big Bear, California. I arrived very late at night, and I waited and waited for the sun to rise so I could get a glimpse of these Hollywood hills and palm trees. This is as high as the sun could get before I needed to speed off out of town. I spent the night in K-town (Koreatown) at the LINE Hotel which had awesome pockmarked concrete walls and personal touches in every room, like tribal-printed chairs, bleach containers made from concrete and painted bright colors, a tiny orange globe of a bud vase, a teeny framed print of tangerines, and a flock of iron birds over the bed. How awesome to wake up with that floor to ceiling window at the foot of my bed.

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Iceland Jet Lag Journal: Glacier Hiking

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When I booked a trip to Iceland, I had basic goals: I wanted to see Icelandic horses roving through fields (done) and I wanted to feast my eyes on some blue ice. Aquamarine, vast, frozen hard landscapes of blue ice. Now that is best discovered in the very far east of Iceland where it is very unpopulated and very far from the airport, at Vatnajökulsþjóðgarður National Park. (Don’t ask me to pronounce it, I truly cannot pronounce a word in Icelandic.) I was with my mom, and I know she would not be happy renting a room inside the cottage of a fisherfolk couple out there. So instead Sistah Woman and I explored Sólheimajökull, a glacier that is melting so rapidly you can hear torrents of angry water flowing underneath the thick ice cap you are standing on.

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Lunch in an Icelandic Tomato Greenhouse

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Have you ever eaten a meal inside a greenhouse? In the center of Iceland, where there’s truly not much in the way of dining or entertainment, Friðheimar greenhouse glows with a warm, friendly light. Here four different varieties of tomato are grown, producing 20% of the tomatoes in Iceland. Food is served among the tomato plants, and you hear the sizzle of the greenhouse lights, and the humming of the little bees that pollinate all the plants. Continue Reading

Iceland Jet Lag Journal: Countryside ICEtinerary

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There are few things I love more than a wholesome frolic through the countryside. (Hence an entire ongoing series I write called Chicks in the Sticks.) In Iceland, anywhere, anywhere outside the city limits of Reykjavik fits the bill for country frolic. This is the land of the dream road trip. I drove the rental car (automatic by special request) across empty stretches of road with wild Icelandic horses grazing among golden flowers on one side and waterfalls misting into double rainbows on the other. The traffic was nonexistent; once in a blue moon we got stuck behind a horse trailer, but as the road curved around the mountains we could speed up and pass. And in order to pass, the speed limit was high.

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Iceland Jet Lag Journal: Ion Luxury Adventure Hotel

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After three nights in the city of Reykjavik, Sistah Woman and I rented a car and hit the road. I really thought I was going to be driving for three hours to get to the sparse, unpopulated landscape of Nesjavellir. I was wrong. Forty five speedy minutes later, we were cruising by nothing but rolling craggy hills, grazing sheep, flat glassy lakes with a few tiny A-frame wooden cottages, one geothermal power plant, and boom the Ion Adventure Luxury Hotel appears.

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