tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32839826055408528872024-03-13T08:59:42.421-04:00Any Place But Home: the diary of a savvy travelerJenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-44632757957316287992013-03-06T06:00:00.000-05:002013-03-06T08:24:22.010-05:00Review: Peter Shields Inn - Cape May, NJ<i>**I started this post back in late October but due to the hurricane, put off finishing. While New Jersey was struggling to recover from Sandy, I didn't feel the time was right to post it. Months later, I'm revisiting the review and am happy to say that Cape May survived surprisingly (and thankfully) unscathed. </i> <br />
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This summer, when we were in Maine, we stayed at a darling B&B that was a member of the <a href="http://www.selectregistry.com/" target="_blank">Select Registry</a> hotels. Upon checking out, The Boy grabbed the Select Registry catalog to peruse, which sparked the idea to visit Cape May over Labor Day. We came across the <a href="http://www.petershieldsinn.com/" target="_blank">Peter Shields Inn</a> which we promptly booked for the long weekend!<br />
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This ocean front property is located at the north end of Cape May away from the bustling nightlife of Cape May, but close enough that you can jump on one of the Inn's bikes and quickly be in the heart of it all. The inn is housed in a gorgeous Georgian Revival Mansion with huge columns that loom above the beach. There are a variety of other similarly restored inns in the Cape May area, but I didn't see one with such curb appeal.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tpN4zkNDqI4/US5qD7gLeNI/AAAAAAAABTE/UCanO29DKsA/s1600/Peter+Shields+Inn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tpN4zkNDqI4/US5qD7gLeNI/AAAAAAAABTE/UCanO29DKsA/s400/Peter+Shields+Inn.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter Shields Inn. *Photo courtesy of the Select Registry Website.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />
Best known for their BYOB restaurant, the inn was teeming with guests each night seeking their acclaimed dining experience. We'd <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2012/09/a-cape-escape.html" target="_blank">booked reservations outside</a> of the inn for dinner but had the breakfast that was included with our stay. Service wasn't a strong suit, at least for breakfast, but that's probably because the inn manager served it instead of a true server. The overall meal was good but nothing to write home about.<br />
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One charming touch of the inn that we enjoyed both evenings during our stay was an afternoon wine and cheese happy hour for hotel guests. It was served on the second floor veranda overlooking the beach, the perfect kick off to the rest of the night!<br />
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Restored homes can go a variety of ways in terms of renovation, decor, upkeep, and style. Overall, I was quite pleased with the look and feel of the common areas of the inn. It was contemporary while still respecting the architecture of the building. Each area was decorated with updated furnishings that mixed the right amount of beach house with modern decor. The common areas were well accessorized and the amenities like the bicycles, beach towels and beach chairs were thoughtful additions.<br />
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Unfortunately, those accolades end once you reach the threshold of your bedroom (or at least ours). We stayed in guest room four, which touts a private porch and promises privacy and romance. The porch overlooks a parking lot. That's romantic. And the bathroom, while huge, lacks any element of utility. There isn't a place to put your cosmetics or overnight kit so we stored ours in the cheap, rundown wicker armoire in the bathroom (no closet in the main room). In the shower, it is almost impossible to turn around and you have to bend back to get your head under the shower head, which was almost impossible for The Boy who is 6'2". The "two person tub" is a relic of the 1980's fad for whirlpool tubs and lacked any appeal whatsoever. I'd have much preferred a claw foot tub - much more appropriate for the inn's style. <br />
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The wiring throughout the room and bathroom was messy, exposed, and had pipes running across the ceiling. At night, we lay in bed looking at one of those unsightly pipes and considered how much we were overpaying for that experience. One morning while getting ready, the boy was drying off under the overhead light when a fuse burst and sparks flew everywhere! When we shared this experience with the front desk, they barely acknowledged any problem. For over $400 a night, we both expected much more from our room and the staff.<br />
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Older homes have their own issues when retrofitted for commercial and contemporary uses, but it is incumbent upon the ownership to diligently identify and abate the most obvious and ensure their guests are pleased with the experience. While this wasn't as bad as our <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2012/03/not-so-rockin-roxbury.html" target="_blank">motel experience</a>, the price tag certainly didn't warrant the disappointment.Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-68901648819457694992013-02-28T06:00:00.000-05:002013-02-28T08:17:33.802-05:00100 DaysIt's been a while since a hundred day countdown had much meaning. Just the mention of it brings back memories of the anticipated burning (or melting) of polyester uniform skirts at the end of high school. Or the impending end of college dorm life and the start of the "real world". And both of those were over a decade ago. Those moments were life changing in their own right, but singular to this new countdown because they were just about me. My life. My next chapter. Individual decisions about the path my life would take me. And while I consulted my family on those chapters, ultimately I was the one at the helm of that solo adventure.<br />
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This time around I have a partner standing by my side anticipating the same changes and exciting new journey. Once only one name of many in my best friend's Rolodex, the boy (soon to be the man) is now my partner, my teammate, my best friend. And in 100 days we're going to commit to one another for the rest of our lives right on this spot. And I couldn't be more thrilled.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Placid, NY</td></tr>
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Beyond the thrill of marrying this man will also be the very honest thrill of being done with wedding planning. Outside of the key components many girls dream of (the dress, the shoes, the hair), so much of wedding planning is fraught with stress, anxiety, and well, stress and anxiety. No one tells you this, but when you express it to others who've experience this rite of passage, they effusively agree. The same is apparently true about being pregnant. I guess you just have to earn your wings and weather through it. I'll be reflecting on that accomplishment in 100+ days when we're lounging beach-side with an adult beverage in hand in Jamaica and Brazil! Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-72802316751443810262012-09-18T09:26:00.000-04:002012-09-18T09:26:51.436-04:00A Wave of Emotion at Wave Hill! <i>I rarely post more than once a week (unless on a long trip) but given recent momentous events this past Sunday, I thought it warranted a post... </i><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GV86HpvnMzQ/UFh0IKW_QOI/AAAAAAAABQc/GaMD9hCfgEc/s1600/Wave+Hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GV86HpvnMzQ/UFh0IKW_QOI/AAAAAAAABQc/GaMD9hCfgEc/s400/Wave+Hill.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View over the Hudson at Wave Hill</td></tr>
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Just as you drive out of the northwest tip of Manhattan and cross over the Spuyten Duyvil Creek into the Bronx lies a spectacular 28-acre public cultural center and garden that was first built in 1843. <a href="http://www.wavehill.org/" target="_blank">Wave Hill</a> was originally built as a "country home" in what is now the bustling urban neighborhood of Riverdale in the Bronx. In the early 1900's, the property was bought by George W. Perkins, a partner of J.P. Morgan; Perkins grew the property from the country house to include several gardens, terraces, a greenhouse, swimming pool and recreational facility. <br />
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Three blocks from the Henry Hudson Parkway, Wave Hill is nestled in a perfectly manicured fringe of lush green trees obscuring the beauty that lies within. Once past the threshold, the great lawn opens up before you with picturesque views of the Hudson River and the Palisades beyond. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7sUcmBN_-EE/UFeHRz7uMeI/AAAAAAAABP4/xWN643Mmzw0/s1600/map_summer-2012.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7sUcmBN_-EE/UFeHRz7uMeI/AAAAAAAABP4/xWN643Mmzw0/s400/map_summer-2012.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wave Hill map courtesy of Robert Loscaro (Wave Hill website)</td></tr>
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Descending the Great Lawn, you will see the Conservatory and flower gardens on your right and the Glyndor House and Gallery to your left. Ahead of you is the Pergola Overlook (pictured above) looking out over the Hudson River and out into the distance. Arriving at Wave Hill is possible by car, subway, and Metro North. The Boy and I had made a plan to bike to Wave Hill from Hoboken, a nice 15-mile ride that was perfect for a Fall Sunday morning. The hosts at the front gate were nice enough to lend us a bike lock so we secured our bikes and began our tour of this fabulous estate. The property was impeccably manicured and the day was perfect parts sunny, breezy, and completely sans elbow sweat conditions! Wandering around the grounds, we explored the Elliptical Garden, meandered through the Wild Garden with its gazebo tucked romantically away among the trees, and ended up deciding on a brief hiatus at the Aquatic Garden. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SIa9RYaaWUM/UFeJbKxrAKI/AAAAAAAABQA/GlSL7k20U9s/s1600/The+Exact+Spot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SIa9RYaaWUM/UFeJbKxrAKI/AAAAAAAABQA/GlSL7k20U9s/s400/The+Exact+Spot.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aquatic Garden</td></tr>
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We paused here at the <a href="http://www.wavehill.org/gardens/aquatic-garden/" target="_blank">Aquatic Garden</a> primarily (<i>I thought</i>) to enjoy the spectacular lily pond in front of us before heading home. It had the most majestic lily pads I have ever seen; I was certain they were fake. They had grown so large their sides had curled up creating saucer-like platters floating on the surface. But sure enough, upon further inspection, they were real! Accompanying the lily pads were other flora and fauna including koi fish, frogs, flowers, and wild grasses. The whole Garden was surrounded by a vine covered pergola creating an enchanting and picturesque venue.<br />
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Turns out that type of venue was exactly what The Boy had planned....as he'd picked this spot to ask me if he could become The Man...and me his bride! I said YES!!!!!!! Best Bike Ride Ever. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4fRLpPVPYms/UFeKqz-QEcI/AAAAAAAABQI/_TqurdePFlE/s1600/The+spot..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4fRLpPVPYms/UFeKqz-QEcI/AAAAAAAABQI/_TqurdePFlE/s400/The+spot..jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After The Boy popped the question!**</td></tr>
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<b><i>**There is a reason this photo is taken from very far away...while we wanted to memorialize the momentous occasion, we did not feel it necessary to capture our sweaty, dirty, helmet headed selves! </i></b>Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-14715628811364737322012-09-17T09:30:00.000-04:002012-09-17T12:27:41.495-04:00A Cape EscapeAttending Boston College, we often escaped to the Cape (Cod, that is) for a quick weekend away. From Chatham to Woods Hole, we enjoyed many a day on the beach or ferrying over to the Vineyard or Nantucket. So many great memories!<br />
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For Labor Day weekend 2012, The Boy chose a getaway to the Cape, but this was a different one than that of my college years. For over 200 years, Easterners have been frequenting Cape May, one of the oldest seaside resorts in the nation. This charming beach enclave, a 3-hour drive from NYC, is located at the southern tip of my new home state of New Jersey!<br />
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Our goal was to leave by 8 AM Saturday, which meant we would leave by 10 AM. At 10:05, Starbucks in tow, we drove out of Hoboken and towards the turnpike. At 10:35, we hit traffic on the Parkway. At Exit 143. We were headed to Exit 0.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Skee Ball...I won (obviously!)</td></tr>
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Despite the traffic, our spirits remained high - it was vacation regardless - and we rolled into our first stop, the newly founded <a href="http://www.capemaybrewery.com/WelcomeAbout.html" target="_blank">Cape May Brewing Company</a>. Opened last July, Cape May Brewing Company is still a small production team, catering mostly to the Cape May and Wildwood areas. Only open on Saturdays from Noon to 4 PM, we stopped by the brewery for a tasting. Located adjacent to the Cape May airport in an industrial row of buildings, the Brewery's minimalist style shows a lot of potential. For $11 a person, we upgraded from the free plastic cup tasting to a commemorative Cape May Brewery glass shaped like a beer can. Legitimately a cool addition to our future bar. From the Saison to the award winning Centennial IPA (Best IPA at the 2012 Atlantic City Beer Festival), we were impressed with the flavor profiles and breadth of their beers. Pick up a growler next time you're in the area or head to <a href="http://www.capemayoceanclubhotel.com/seasalt.php" target="_blank">Sea Salt</a> where they carry the Saison on tap!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Congress Hall, accommodating visitors since 1816</td></tr>
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When The Boy and I go on vacation, we somehow get the perfect mix of adventure, activity, culinary treats, and relaxation all at once. For our Cape May escape, this ranged from skee ball shoot outs to sour salt water taffy bombs, body surfing in the ocean to cruising on our bikes around town. There are too many detail of our trip to list them all so I'll highlight a few dining spots I'd recommend checking out in case you're ever down at the most southern tip of New Jersey. <br />
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<li><a href="http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/americas-best-beach-bars/9" target="_blank">The Rusty Nail</a>: Voted one of America's Best Beach Bars by <i>Travel + Leisure</i> magazine, the Rusty Nail does not disappoint. The perfect mix of dive bar, beach side location, quality cocktails, and perfectly greasy variety of scrumptious bar food. We also were lucky enough to enjoy some local Reggae music that played live for us while we sipped our Dark & Stormy's. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.capemayoceanclubhotel.com/seasalt.php" target="_blank">Sea Salt Restaurant</a>: Located within the Ocean Club Hotel, which admittedly doesn't have the most curb appeal, the cuisine at Sea Salt was beyond our expectations. From a smoked trout with roe appetizer special and the succulent local oysters on a half shell to the pan seared red snapper in pea risotto and squid ink with shellfish entree special, there wasn't one thing we didn't enjoy. Our waitress, who looked like a naive college student, was surprisingly well versed with the menu and quite capable to adeptly describe each dish. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.petershieldsinn.com/restaurant.htm" target="_blank">Peter Shields Inn</a>: Disclaimer - we stayed here, which was NOT our best move (more on that later), and we only ate breakfast here, which was lovely, but the dinner menu and the presentation of the food that we saw looked pretty appetizing. If nothing else, the setting of the Inn overlooking the beach in this lovely 1907 Georgian Revival mansion is worth a visit. It's BYOB as well, so bring something tasty and try it out.</li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter Shields Inn</td></tr>
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Without a doubt, I would go back to Cape May. It offered the perfect blend of upscale at one end of the beach with the right mix of approachable beach shack styling at the other end. Easily surmountable on beach cruiser, this small community offers a little something for everyone looking for a nice beach escape. Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-56041309580876377912012-09-05T13:20:00.001-04:002012-09-05T13:20:23.177-04:00Moving on Up....or Out!Two Thousand Five Hundred and Thirty Calories (2,530 calories) and One Hundred and Seven Fat Grams (107 fat grams.) Every day, twice a day. Whether it's 6:30 AM or 6:30 PM. It haunts me. Port Authority that is.<br />
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Last month, three years after moving to New York City, I swapped my Manhattan address for one across the Hudson in New Jersey. I moved to Hoboken, which is a seriously exciting new chapter in my life as I have joined The Boy out there. He's a longtime resident and serious fan of the town and now I'm on the bandwagon as well. From the awesome Pilsener Haus and their <a href="http://drinks.seriouseats.com/2012/08/new-bar-kolo-klub-hoboken-nj-michale-neff-cocktails.html" target="_blank">recently opened Kolo Club</a> to the fabulous outdoor <a href="http://www.pier13boatingclub.com/" target="_blank">Pier 13 Boating Club</a> overlooking NYC, which is my favorite Sunday sunset venue, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoboken,_New_Jersey#Birthplace_of_baseball" target="_blank">birthplace of baseball</a> has earned a new aficionado. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot2ja9qo7jw/UEeHSKadWjI/AAAAAAAABOU/Yy6t2ykBBww/s1600/Pier+13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ot2ja9qo7jw/UEeHSKadWjI/AAAAAAAABOU/Yy6t2ykBBww/s400/Pier+13.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Pier 13 - photo courtesy of VC</td></tr>
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With each move comes some hardship and mine is limited to passing through Port Authority on a daily basis. It's not so much the derelicts blatantly high on bath salts or the unfortunates facing hard times panhandling for bus fare that bother me; it's being inundated on a daily basis with that smell. And no, I don't mean the smell of human "business" - <i>that</i> I'm used to having lived in the East Village. No, I mean the undeniably tantalizing smell curated by the collection of food establishments at PA. Every morning and every evening my nostrils are lambasted by Cinnabon, Mrs. Fields, Auntie Anne's, Carvel, and Au Bon Pain. EVERY DAY!!!!!!!!!!!! <br />
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Two Thousand Five Hundred and Thirty Calories (2,530 calories) and One Hundred and Seven Fat Grams (107 fat grams.) That's a sampling of the assailants infiltrating my olfactory senses. One Cinnabon Classic + one Mrs. Fields M&M cookie + one Carvel Fudge Brownie Dasher + one Cinnamon Sugar Pretzel from Auntie Anne's = 2,530 calories & 107 fat grams. And all while I'm heading to the gym.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka1c67C4oqg/UEeHR476wmI/AAAAAAAABOM/mWtrUlHtpcE/s1600/Cinnabon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ka1c67C4oqg/UEeHR476wmI/AAAAAAAABOM/mWtrUlHtpcE/s400/Cinnabon.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Torture. Photo courtesy of ricky_foto's on Photobucket.</td></tr>
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Thankfully I have pretty steadfast willpower and am capable of resisting. For now at least. And if that's my only hardship, I think I'll survive. That, or I'll just start commuting on the PATH train. <br />
<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-29062893289049581822012-07-16T09:33:00.001-04:002012-07-16T09:33:44.034-04:00I'm Back, Back in the New York Groove.......or back in the New York heat and humidity. What a welcome! Anyway, I'm refreshed and revitalized from one of the best vacations ever! No time to post now but here is a pic of my "Maine State of Mind." I'll be back with details later....<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sailing in Sommers Sound.</td></tr>
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<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-15840097239433921712012-07-06T10:28:00.000-04:002012-07-06T10:28:14.189-04:00Vacation. Finally!I don't know if it's the oppressive heat, the sodden humidity (yes, the double reference is intentional), or just the need for a reprieve, but I have not been this anxious about a week-long vacation in a long time. Obviously I love to travel...this IS a travel blog and all, but as we get older and have more obligations and economic restrictions, traveling isn't always as relaxing as it once was. And often it's only a semi-extended weekend (i.e. leaving at 4 on a Friday.) Oh how I long for the days where my mom planned it all, organized the paperwork, my dad booked all the hotels, cars, and planes, and I essentially showed up with my suitcase and experienced pretty much amazing and unique itineraries.<br />
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Granted, I learned from the best and now am pretty good at engineering some cool itineraries and organizing myself pretty easily. Thanks parents! And now I have a great travel buddy, the boy, and we are both STARVED for a real vacation and fortunately we have the same plans in mind: relax, eat, read, bike, explore, hike, sail, relax, sleep, swim, repeat. Oh, and apparently I just learned we'll be renting scooters. Oh boy. If you've ever seen the boy drive, you'd be worried too. <br />
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<br />Twenty-four hours from now, we'll be flying north to the much milder and less humid climate of Maine. We couldn't be MORE excited. My bag has legitimately been packed since June 20th. And it couldn't be more timely as tomorrow is supposed to be over 100 degrees in NYC, the hottest day of the year so far. Have fun sweating profusely without me!Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-62449251742669661612012-05-31T13:02:00.000-04:002012-05-31T13:02:55.305-04:00Grading GirlsThe boy loves Franco. The girl (c'est moi) loves HBO's "Girls". And obviously boy loves girl and vice versa. And girl has made boy watch "Girls" with her, not totally reluctantly I might add.<br />
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So when boy's love collided with girl's love and Franco wrote about "Girls" in "<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/james-franco/girls-hbo-lena-dunham_b_1556078.html?view=screen" target="_blank">A Dude's Take on Girls</a>" in Huffington Post, I had to debate his grade. I suggest you pause and read his article now so the rest of my post makes sense. And if you haven't seen "Girls", I suggest you get on it ASAP or at least, if you are a girl, recall what it felt like to be 24 and it will make more sense.<br />
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You're back? Good! Now...here are my "Girls" and here are my thoughts. <br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVC5I2gxiwE/T8ejDUki3lI/AAAAAAAABNA/C86kM8FPelM/s1600/Girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pVC5I2gxiwE/T8ejDUki3lI/AAAAAAAABNA/C86kM8FPelM/s400/Girls.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my "Girls" - pre-digital photo era. Excuse the scan quality. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Firstly, when we graduated from college, which is the age of these
girls, my friend base (my close girlfriends) were all a LOT like me. I
mean, of my roommates, 6 of us were blonde and 6 were brunette, and we
all had pretty similar backgrounds. The cultural diversity of my
friendships didn't evolve until my late 20's. And even then, it wasn't
necessarily my tight circle, which this show represents. So, as far as
cultural diversity goes, the relationship with Adam who seems somewhat
disenfranchised, seems "outside the box" for these girls at that
age...or at least it seems that way to my once 20-something self. Lena
also coined <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/07/lena-dunham-fresh-air-girls_n_1496780.html.%20" target="_blank">a response to this</a> very criticism.<br />
<br />Secondly, I don't think Aidan or Big were 'dorks' on SATC. Quite the
opposite...one was a power house business man and one was a romantic
man's man...Steve is another story. Big dork. But perfect for Miranda. I'm still smarting from the time in my 20's that an ex boyfriend's best friend said I reminded him of her...<br />
<br />Thirdly, I think it will always be hard for adults to retain
perspective of being 20. I think the way the guys are portrayed on the
show is also part of Lena's perspective of what 'guys' are to girls at
that age and the lack of communication and the assumptions made and the
total compromise of your integrity (i.e. when he sent her a pic of his wanker and then a follow-up text "that wasn't for you" and she tried to
explain it away.) It resonates so loudly with me. But I was also a girl
in my 20's living in LA where stuff like what these girls on "Girls" are
facing, thinking, and experiencing happened to us. We had some weird
experiences and did some dumb stuff, but that's what you did then! We
thought we were so old and mature and knew so much, but we didn't. And
we probably still don't, but hindsight is always 20/20. Someone as A)
male and B) experienced in SO many ways and C) intellectual to the nth
degree like Franco might be over-thinking it...and that's partly because
he didn't experience being a girl in her 20's. <br />
<br />I agree on getting a job, whatever it may be, for Hannah. Some
homeless guy on the L train last night was stumbling through asking for
money. He was legitimately obese. If you can be obese in this city, you
don't need my money. I mean....ridiculous.<br />
<br />
What do you think? Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-25080353853496981802012-05-14T12:13:00.000-04:002012-05-14T12:13:05.453-04:00'a Gatsby Affair' ...it's Spring Party Time!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As many of you know, I'm the President of the junior board for a non-profit organization here in New York City, The Children's Aid Society. We are hosting our second annual spring fundraiser, 'a Gatsby Affair', on May 23rd from 6-9 PM at the David Rubenstein Atrium at Lincoln Center. </div>
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This year's party will feature an open bar, fantastic food from Tom Colicchio's 'wichcraft catering, an <a href="http://www.events.org/cPage.aspx?e=41628&m=1&l=1097">excellent tiered raffle</a>, and amazing music and entertainment. </div>
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Our beneficiary is <a href="http://www.childrensaidsociety.org/hope-leadership-academy">The Hope Leadership Academy</a>. Every year, over 300 families in Manhattan and the Bronx benefit from
the Hope Leadership Academy. 95% of the families served are below the
Federal Poverty Line, 4% are low-income and 1% have a modest income.
Established to help low-income teens age 14-24, Hope trains youth to be
community educators, advocates and leaders, and gives them the skills
and self-confidence they need to make changes in their own lives, their
neighborhoods, and beyond.</div>
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On Friday, I had the chance to hang out at Hope and see the participants celebrating "Women's Day" at the center. They had invited women that were important in their lives to Hope to enjoy an evening of great food (served by all the boys/men) and have their nails painted, play karaoke, make friendship bracelets, and be regaled by the talented young people at Hope. One of those special young women will be performing at 'a Gatsby Affair.' I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I've now seen her perform twice and it gives me chills every time! </div>
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Come join us, see the special surprise, and celebrate this wonderful cause! </div>
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<a href="http://www.theacstop.org/">www.theacstop.org</a> </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Sykjw5PDAw/T7Er-Do_uvI/AAAAAAAABLo/x2CBOyBdIUo/s1600/Gatsby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--Sykjw5PDAw/T7Er-Do_uvI/AAAAAAAABLo/x2CBOyBdIUo/s400/Gatsby.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
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<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-46260944364404200962012-05-03T12:27:00.001-04:002012-05-03T12:27:44.546-04:00Early To Bed, Early to Rise...Standing there waiting for the chair to collect me, an experience I've had thousands times over the past thirty years, it was almost like the first time. My feet felt unsure, my eyes unadjusted, something was missing. And then, before I could reassess my outing, I was swooped up and carried off. Into the dark. Up and up I was carried. My feet hanging below me, almost weightless in comparison with my past experiences. The cool air breezed all around me and I hunkered into my hood listening to the persistent humming of the chair and the relative silence below.<br />
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The day before I had been contemplating what I would do to celebrate Easter Sunday. We were skiing in Beaver Creek for the weekend and the mass schedules I had looked at were few and far between. But my <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/06/road-tripping-to-manchester-vt.html">very dear friend</a> gave me the perfect solution...and what turned out to be the pinnacle of my trip. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CSfCrhyy2MI/T6Kwlk9mORI/AAAAAAAABK4/gvERnjqQJhk/s1600/6901702541105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CSfCrhyy2MI/T6Kwlk9mORI/AAAAAAAABK4/gvERnjqQJhk/s400/6901702541105.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise over the mountains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sunday morning rolled around and the alarm sounded at 5:15AM. I quietly slipped out of bed, so as to not disturb the boy, layered myself with warm gear and departed for the base of the mountain. It was so early and so dark on Easter morning that part of me really felt like I could happen upon the Easter Bunny out hiding eggs and delivering yummy <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2012/04/my-easter-basket.html">chocolate covered marshmallows</a> and the like. Could have been the delirium of the early hour or my inner three year-old really holding out hope it could be true. As I crested the steps of the village, the silence was broken by the hum of the chairlift and a minor spotlight to help guide riders to the boarding spot. A handful of people boarded the chair for the top swiftly slipping into the dark night as they were whisked upwards. A sensation I experienced seconds later as I was lifted sans board or skis onto the chair and into the chill night breeze. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQGIgePh8iA/T6KwjeIrhXI/AAAAAAAABKw/j5AXHzeP9Mg/s1600/6438702541105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cQGIgePh8iA/T6KwjeIrhXI/AAAAAAAABKw/j5AXHzeP9Mg/s400/6438702541105.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunrise Service Attendees</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Atop the mountain, we all congregated in the mid chalet where coffee and hot cocoa (and jet puffed 'mallows!) awaited our arrival. A band played music while people listened peacefully, talked with neighbors, or peered out the window at the horizon in anticipation. Shortly thereafter, it began. The non-denominational sunrise service was wonderfully inspirational and full of hope and thoughtfulness for the day and months to come. Once the service concluded, we all gathered outside to see the highly anticipated sunrise while the most darling Austrian gentleman clad in lederhosen played "Saving Grace" on his alpenhorn. Truly sublime.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-al7tNQojBLc/T6KwiBuRvfI/AAAAAAAABKo/e5hRvPHo8MM/s1600/5666702541105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-al7tNQojBLc/T6KwiBuRvfI/AAAAAAAABKo/e5hRvPHo8MM/s400/5666702541105.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Saving Grace"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Later (7 AM), people headed back to the chairlift to descend the mountain. I noticed two women head off in the direction we had skied down so many times in the previous days. Curious, I approached a ski patrol and inquired whether it was kosher to walk down. He said, "Sure, but it's quite a hike - about 4 miles - and somewhat tough in patches." No problem, I thought...this will be fun. And so I descended on foot and even caught up to the ladies where they were sliding down on their butts. It was late season and relatively icy and bumpy so I did have some battle wounds at the end (and on my end), but the sheer thrill of zooming down the mountain in the still twilight hours of the morning was exhilarating. I finished my adventure with a latte at the mountain base watching the ski patrol catch first tracks of the morning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BztRJhP2DVU/T6Kwd9feOJI/AAAAAAAABKg/dPDTozZcrek/s1600/2564802541105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BztRJhP2DVU/T6Kwd9feOJI/AAAAAAAABKg/dPDTozZcrek/s400/2564802541105.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alternative way down the mountain</td></tr>
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Easter is the celebration of the resurrection of Christ. A rebirth or re-awakening. My awakening that morning was one of the most refreshing I've had in a long time. And one I'll try to remember on other mornings when the day doesn't look quite so promising.Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-4498911812004063802012-04-13T15:53:00.001-04:002012-04-13T15:53:31.487-04:00Revisiting Ghana<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I had wrist surgery (minor) yesterday so I'm pecking at the keys one-handed. As such, I am re-posting the final, edited version of "Hey Bruni!" At one point, it looked like it was going to get published in the SFO Chronicle...that point passed so I am using this excuse to re-post it.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Hey Bruni!</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">“Hey
Bruni!” they called in their sing-song cry, reaching to touch our sticky, dust-covered
skin and pull our sweaty hair. “Bruni! Hello, what is your name?! Can I give
you my e-mail?” <span></span>Continuing our jaunt
down the dirt street I peered at my travel companion, Justine, whispering,
“Bruni?”</span> <span style="font-size: small;">She
laughed, “Oh, it means, ‘hey whitie.’” Returning her laugh, I understood yet
another unique facet of my Ghanaian adventure. Another new friend approached,
inquiring, “Bruni, will you marry me?” Unrelenting, we conjured faux beaus who
would be devastated by our acquiescence. Maneuvering the onslaught of
mid-morning traffic past corrugated tin roofed mud huts and side stepping open
sewage ditches in Cape Coast, we searched out the entrance to the castle just
as the morning sun was beginning to kick up the heat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VmmqOZgV7fo/T4iED0VD5nI/AAAAAAAABJc/fUa0Q3lIJQA/s1600/771094482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VmmqOZgV7fo/T4iED0VD5nI/AAAAAAAABJc/fUa0Q3lIJQA/s400/771094482605.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Four
months earlier, I was contemplating my safari attire after Justine invited me
to join her for a week in Ghana. She was working at a NGO clinic for a month
and I’d be meeting her to explore the country. <i>Lions, Tigers, Giraffes, Oh my!</i> I daydreamed.<i> </i>To my dismay, I quickly learned my wardrobe planning was a bit
naïve. You see, Western Africa does not have safaris - no tigers, lions or giraffes
for this hopeful explorer; however, what Western Africa lacks in wildlife, it
makes up for in quirky norms, intense history, and genuine hospitality. With an
updated itinerary, we endeavored to explore Ghana from mid-country to coast,
discovering the
intricate production of Kente cloth, the hum of 10,000 vendors in West Africa’s
largest open-air market, the history that engendered the Emancipation
Proclamation, and a beach sojourn.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Thirty-two hours and three air planes later, I was
flying over the Ghanaian countryside, a scenic and flourishing landscape. The
panorama is lush and full of forests of high grasses, plantain, cocoa, and
banana trees. Palm trees, golden hued sandy beaches that stretch for miles
uninterrupted and a refreshing sapphire blue ocean define the coastline.
Villages break up this scenery in mud and tin huts bunched along the roads. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">In an attempt to thoughtfully plan our trip prior to departure,
I found that Ghana was not on any list for “must see” or “top ten places to
visit in Africa” so our itinerary was based off several shots in the dark and
the one Ghana guide book (the oft-pathetic Bradt guide.) Travel boards
mentioned ex-pat B&B’s and beach resorts “worth the splurge,” but bookings
were done via e-mail, suggestions for inter-city travel implied eyebrow-raising
challenges, and while Anthony Bourdain prepared me for local culinary delights,
he proffered no explicit destinations. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Driving in our taxi to the bus station, a stucco
portico housing six benches and a lot of Africans, I got my first real
impression of Ghana outside the Swisshotel where we’d stayed our first night.
People strolled en masse through the streets, the sun illuminating their
beautiful ebony skin. I was affronted by the poverty watching children bathe
with buckets of water, splashing in the garbage strewn dirt streets shared with
live chickens and dogs running amok. Unlike more popular African destinations,
tourists, particularly, Europeans and Americans are very few and very far
between. The most up-to-date statistics state that as of 2006, about 60,000
Americans visited Ghana and only 20% of all 497,129 International visitors (no
breakdown by nationality) were there on holiday. That’s compared with the 254,000
Americans that visited South Africa that same year. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8no25xlh8Q/T4iBxElnstI/AAAAAAAABI0/9I9CMUMPZZ4/s1600/495805482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H8no25xlh8Q/T4iBxElnstI/AAAAAAAABI0/9I9CMUMPZZ4/s400/495805482605.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kejetia Market</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Roads are lined with stalls made of corrugated tin,
mud, wood or cement. The vendors’ wares run the gamut as well: mufflers,
mattresses, tires, furniture, phone cards, you name it. You can literally see
the impact of years of missionary efforts in the pervasiveness of Christianity.
The “stores” have names like, “He is Good Shoes” and "God Bless you
Business Centre" - I didn't see a Xerox or Fax machine in that 4 x 4
stall. "May you walk with him Beauty Salon" proffered images of
braided coiffes. Literacy is on the rise but still relatively low (66% as of
2008) so signs are accompanied by illustrations. The medical hut offered images
depicting sexually transmitted diseases and ailments, illustrated with an
almost cartoonish quality.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Mid-country
Culture</b><br />
Kumasi, located in the Ashanti region, is the second largest city in Ghana. Our accommodations were a bed and breakfast
operated by a Canadian ex pat and his wife, a Ghanaian he met 25 years ago as a
Canadian Peace Corps volunteer. Chris and Charity were wonderfully hospitable
hosts, engaging a guide to take us through Kejetia Market and get to the Kente
weaving village of Bonwire, which was first on our list. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-trXy4ToiUyM/T4iByp9ObJI/AAAAAAAABJE/y-oqXth8BXE/s1600/984794482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-trXy4ToiUyM/T4iByp9ObJI/AAAAAAAABJE/y-oqXth8BXE/s400/984794482605.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christian</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Chris drove us into town where we caught a tro-tro, a
shared van, to Bonwire, a half-hour drive from the center of Kumasi. Kente
cloth, a type of silk or cotton ceremonial cloth is native to the Akan people
of Ghana and the Cote d’Ivoire, and Bonwire is known for weaving exceptional
Kente cloth. Our wonderful guide, Christian, arrived to greet us donned in a
red Che Guevara shirt; he was effeminate and chummy, defiant opposition to the revolutionary
teachings his t-shirt advertised. He toured us around, educating us on how the
yarn for the Kente cloth was spun, stretched, and woven, his commentary
infiltrated with jokes followed immediately by his own infectious laugh. <span> </span><br />
<br />
Christian allowed us to try our hand on the large weaving looms, requiring
simultaneous use of your hands and feet to create the intricate patterns of the
cloth. Christian demonstrated zooming the loom back and forth while shooting
the spool through the threads at a staggering pace. While both athletic,
Justine and I didn’t have the hand to eye to feet coordination apparently
inherent to native ‘Bonwirians.’ Walking back into town, Christian grabbed a
cocoa pod from the ground, cracking it open and offering us the seeds inside.
They are slippery suckers but once in your mouth the seeds are succulent and
refreshing, a perfect treat on a hot and humid day. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HtciRa_-A54/T4iByIc2j9I/AAAAAAAABI8/i-5YrvspLpw/s1600/562674482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HtciRa_-A54/T4iByIc2j9I/AAAAAAAABI8/i-5YrvspLpw/s400/562674482605.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thread</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">The following morning, we prepared to visit Kejetia
Market, West Africa’s largest open-air market covering more than 12 acres
(about 11 football fields). Chris had arranged for our guide, Comfort, to pilot
us through the overwhelming maze of commerce. African music blaring from
speakers lining the outer walls signaled our arrival. Once inside, I was
overwhelmed. Everything was for sale and in such mass it was almost too much to
absorb. There were corrugated tin roofs housing two-story “shops” and hundreds
of thousands of people winding their way through the labyrinthine streets purchasing
everything from fresh jojoba butter and school uniforms to bartering beads and
machetes. Masses of people were bartering over carved wooden sculptures, grains
and spices, shoes, you name it. We scurried along keeping close to Comfort as
she knowingly ambled through the Kejetia streets stopping to explain things to
us and introduce her "Bruni" to friends from her local village.
Kejetia was hysterical, incredible, exhausting, and totally awe-inspiring. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><br />
Coastal Calamities <br />
</b>Knowing a new country means experiencing its culture and its history, a
truth recognized recently by a relatively well-known American visitor,
President Barack Obama. We’d also traveled to Cape Coast (and subsequently
Elmina), to learn first hand about the slave trade, an unfortunate identifier
of the Gold Coast of Africa. Originally constructed and occupied by the Portuguese
and later British, both Cape Coast and Elmina castles memorialize horrific
tales. Elmina is the oldest castle in Africa, built in the late 1400's. These
forts, originally purported to host textile trading with the Ghanaians, became
the last stop for slaves being sent to the Americas, Europe and eventually
Asia. The captives were hunted in Northern and Central Ghana by their fellow
countrymen and forcibly brought hundreds of miles to market here. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2Y2dB4ah5g/T4iC1i6aOdI/AAAAAAAABJU/dQrAP7Ax_Ns/s1600/812564482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d2Y2dB4ah5g/T4iC1i6aOdI/AAAAAAAABJU/dQrAP7Ax_Ns/s400/812564482605.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />Hundreds of slaves were entombed underground with
only slits in the upper walls providing minimal air and scant sunlight. If our
group of 12 was suffering in the oppressive 100-degree heat and 100% humidity,
sweat streaming down our bodies, we could only imagine the experience of the
former occupants. We visited one chamber that measured about 20 x 12 feet and
our guide explained that 200 male slaves were kept in there for 2 months
without reprieve. The goal was to starve and torture the slaves so that only
the strongest and most valuable survived, saving the captors money on food and reserving
the "best" for sale. Our guide concluded our tour with an image, the
last one the surviving slaves saw departing the castle. The fated few were led
underground through a tunnel to the "Door of No Return" where they
were loaded into slave boats destined for new lands and uncertain futures. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">There are still boats outside the “Door of No Return”;
today they are waiting for fishermen, not for slaves. The scene once dominated
by European oppressors is now replaced with locally generated commerce.
Hundreds of boats donning the Ghanaian flag rest on the shore awaiting sail.
Fishermen sit seaside mending fishing nets. Men congregate on the beaches
hauling huge nets out to sea on foot waiting patiently for the nets to fill
before rhythmically tugging in their haul. We silently sat watching them
perform their dance-like beat, contemplating the evolution of our surroundings.<span> </span><span> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Leaving Cape Coast castle, neither of us was much for
words. Before we could collect ourselves and reflect, we met a new Ghanaian
friend, Gospel, reminding us that Ghana has more to offer than just tragedy.
Gospel, a local artist, escorted us (I’m not sure we went willingly) around the
town introducing us to locals. One young girl we met was preparing her family’s
banku, a traditional dish. Her preparation consisted of pounding and fervently
stirring heated maize flour, cassava and boiling water until it became a dough-like
mass. Banku, is a typical Ghanaian dish served with a stew or protein. Famished
after a long day, Gospel escorted us to Castle Beach restaurant, where we tried
our own banku served with fresh grilled whole fish in a spicy pepper tomato
sauce - absolutely divine. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Reflective
R&R</b><br />
Culture and History aside, a winter vacation wouldn’t be complete without some
sun and sand. We prioritized a beach reprieve on the Gold Coast of Africa,
renowned for its warm, blue waters and sunny sands. Still stateside, I discovered
the charming Axim Beach Hotel. For $60 a night, (a splurge compared to our
other $15-$30 accommodations) the resort offered our own round mud hut topped
with a thatched roof, shell encrusted bathroom and a porch overlooking the
ocean. Charming! There was AC but as it is run on solar power, we quickly discovered
the light, TV, and AC cannot run simultaneously. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sBCbrofVZZw/T4iCeMa8FJI/AAAAAAAABJM/pQghDlfDNPU/s1600/741084482605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sBCbrofVZZw/T4iCeMa8FJI/AAAAAAAABJM/pQghDlfDNPU/s400/741084482605.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Axim Beach Resort</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Relaxing on the beach, we reflected on the sensory
overload of our week in Ghana. While Justine had been in country for a month,
she’d been sheltered in a small village in the west. Traveling from town to
town navigating public transportation, social interactions, deciphering
directions and attempting to identify places to eat were cumulatively
exhausting. Add to that my blatant foreignness (blonde, pale and green eyed),
thus attracting immediate attention, underscored the rehabilitative bliss of
hours on a semi-desolate beach. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">There were no roars, stampedes, or kills in my first
introduction to Africa, but my trip to Ghana certainly was my own unique
safari. Images of Cape Town wineries and dramatic Victoria Falls were
supplanted by UNESCO sites memorializing humanitarian atrocities and a
cumulative cast of characters that seemed out of a comedy show. Every moment
was its own story, every day an intricate journey. I found myself constantly bombarded
with new sensations, emotions and observations, many I was unable to completely
digest until weeks later. Returned to a familiar way of living where we were a
natural part of the order of events as opposed to anxious observers, only then
did I appreciate what I had just been exposed to, a unique world away from my
circle of influence; a world that was home to new friends, Comfort, Gospel, and
Christian. </span></div>Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-16076070165225837422012-04-10T14:52:00.000-04:002012-04-10T14:52:03.314-04:00My Easter Basket!Thank you to everyone who sent me a Peep picture over Easter...from the "Peep Show" to the "Peep Bouquet" to excerpts from the Washington Post Peep Contest...OccuPEEP DC was the clear favorite. "Power to the PEEPle!"<br />
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Apparently I've made it abundantly clear how much I love marshmallows. And after 40 days of no sweets and no alcohol (<a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/04/lenten-sacrifices.html">similar to last year</a>), I was excited for my Easter Basket and Easter celebrations this past weekend.<br />
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Here's my Easter Basket! It had chocolate covered marshmallows, a dark chocolate bunny, a HUGE s'mores egg, and jelly eggs...all courtesy of <a href="http://www.sees.com/">See's Candies</a>! Another West coast thing to miss. Thankfully they ship UPS. There is a box of <a href="http://www.sees.com/prod.cfm/Dark_Chocolates/scotchmallow">Scotchmallow</a> eggs blatantly missing from this picture...alas, it didn't make it through the 2-hour car ride. We devoured them. At 10 AM. Oopies. That $40 worth of Easter candy was well worth it!Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-14110763417027980282012-04-03T11:59:00.002-04:002012-04-03T11:59:49.892-04:00FINALLY!!!!!!!As I've mentioned <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-favorite-thingsok-just-few.html">here</a>, <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/03/whirlwind-weeks.html">here</a>, and <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/12/sun-setting-on-another-year.html">here</a>, I love snow sports, especially snowboarding and skiing. I don't as much love the snow per se, especially when commuting to work
or driving in a blizzard, but I'll take a day in the mountains anytime! I've been on the mountain since I was three years old starting with skis and no poles and adding snowboarding 13 years later. Always a 'good' athlete(I can play most any sport relatively well), I think snowboarding is the exception and consider myself able to hang with most riders on all terrains.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vail, Colorado</td></tr>
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People often ask me what I miss most about California. After almost three years, my answer is always the same: "Besides my parents and close friends, I miss the mountains." I used to drive to Mammoth most weekends, a lot of the time by myself, for a day and a half of riding all over that fantastic mountain. 395 miles door-to-door with a few books on tape and the radio to entertain me...and some of my favorite <a href="http://www.onabicyclebuiltfortwo.com/">people</a> too...was not abnormal.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPcqm65IAV0/T3sbX6UDFtI/AAAAAAAABHE/5lAQnZkgUs8/s1600/Deer+Valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oPcqm65IAV0/T3sbX6UDFtI/AAAAAAAABHE/5lAQnZkgUs8/s400/Deer+Valley.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer Valley, Utah</td></tr>
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So, by the hair of my chinny chin chin, I'm making one of my 2012 goals come true this weekend. The boy and I are headed off to Beaver Creek for a few last days of skiing. I couldn't be more thrilled!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TupBqG6Yj4c/T3scTlxO56I/AAAAAAAABHc/U6ClF5cgALA/s1600/SV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TupBqG6Yj4c/T3scTlxO56I/AAAAAAAABHc/U6ClF5cgALA/s400/SV.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Baldy - Sun Valley</td></tr>
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And the icing on the cake is two-fold...one, it's the end of Lent so I'll be having a margarita and a marshmallow apres ski (most likely not together, but you never know) AND, I'll be meeting the four-week old Tulley, daughter of one of <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/06/road-tripping-to-manchester-vt.html">my oldest and dearest friends</a>. Oh...and the cherry on top is that a group of our friends will also be in town for the holiday so Saturday night should be a real hoot. Can't wait! <br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zX3hfb9qLqQ/T3scTeMGe3I/AAAAAAAABHU/rrGrOygl80c/s1600/MM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zX3hfb9qLqQ/T3scTeMGe3I/AAAAAAAABHU/rrGrOygl80c/s400/MM.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mammoth Mountain</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-88632488185710931242012-03-26T17:30:00.001-04:002012-03-26T17:30:19.314-04:00NYC Good Eats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"It's like butter melting in your mouth." I don't know about you, but I like butter on my toast or on my mashed potatoes, not just a slab of it in my mouth. Gross. What a weird description, right? And why would that be the one you go to when describing an enjoyable meal? </div>
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Well, now I know. <a href="http://redfarmnyc.com/">Red Farm</a>. Go there. Wait in line. Wait an hour if you must. It's worth it. </div>
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It's been a while since I really had a great meal in New York. I mean, they are mostly all really good, but moving here three years ago has made my threshold for great meals relatively difficult to achieve. Red Farm made it. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-APNFWL1kCZo/T3DWwmLwKTI/AAAAAAAABGI/RW_8KoRG-Xk/s1600/RF+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-APNFWL1kCZo/T3DWwmLwKTI/AAAAAAAABGI/RW_8KoRG-Xk/s400/RF+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spicy Crispy Beef and 'Pac Man' Shrimp Dumplings</td></tr>
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Please forgive the pictures...pathetic cell phone images that don't do the food justice. To boot, the most amazing thing we ate is not pictured as we inhaled it without pause. What was it? It was a chicken and truffle soup dumpling. DI-VINE. A special as well so please go and eat it and rave about it to everyone so they make it part of the regular menu. Now. <br /><br />Red Farm's chefs are the duo of Ed Schoenfeld and Joe Ng, the latter affectionately labeled the "Dim Sum Master" on the Red Farm website. They aren't kidding. The 'Pac Man' shrimp dumplings were served with a side of guacamole and a sweet potato fritter. Luxurious. I don't even LIKE sweet potatoes and ate the whole thing without pause. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sauteed Black Cod with Black Bean & Thai Basil</td></tr>
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Back to that butter comment. What melted in my mouth like a pat of butter? What made me stoop to using that awkward and somewhat creepy metaphor? It was the Sauteed Black Cod. When we saw it on the menu I thought of Nobu's Black Cod. This is better. Maybe it's the black beans and the punchy peppers or the Thai Basil. The fish was cooked perfectly...as to melt in my mouth. Fantastique! Get it. You won't be sad. <br />
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They don't take reservations (of course), but they are way fancy with an iPad waiting list app so you give them your phone number and go down to the corner for a drinks or meander down Hudson and they'll shoot you a text when your table is ready. And now with the weather turning in our favor, what could be better? Get on it. <br />
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I must also acknowledge a few other super stars of the last six months. A big shout out to <a href="http://www.taldebrooklyn.com/">Talde</a>, the new restaurant by Top Chef, Dale Talde, out in Prospect Heights. We went there on Friday and loved the Fluke Hawaiian buns and the short ribs...and their house-made hot sauce on the table...oh, I was eating that with my fork. <br />
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My other top stand-out is <a href="http://empellon.com/taqueria/">Empellon Taqueria</a>, the upscale Mexican restaurant conceptualized by veteran pastry chef, Alex Stupak. Delicious-ness. I haven't had a dish there that didn't delight. We even were so brave as to go there for a set menu dinner (usually these aim to disappoint in my opinion) for New Years and all six of us left happy campers. We are trying out their new restaurant, <a href="http://empellon.com/cocina/">Empellon Cocina</a>, tonight. Cheers!Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-68178507493525175112012-03-13T12:27:00.000-04:002012-03-13T12:33:50.000-04:00The Bright Spot...When I hear the word 'Oriole', I think of the professional baseball team, Cal Ripken, Jr., and investing years of my weekly allowance collecting Topps baseball cards with that terribly hard piece of bubble gum in each 20 pack of cards. I should probably dig up those cards...maybe there's some money to be made? I'm pretty sure I have a few Bo Jackson All-Star cards and a Jose Canseco Rookie of the Year card (juiced up of course.) But I digress. <br />
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I looked up 'Oriole' and these birds are characterized as "bright and showy" with colorful plumage. That connotation was much more appropriate when considering my sensational experience at "<a href="http://www.oriole9.com/index.html">Oriole9</a>", the bright spot on our <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2012/03/not-so-rockin-roxbury.html">rough trip to Roxbury</a> back in February. <br />
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Driving home, we planned a lunch pit stop in Woodstock, having never done more than drive through the town in the past. During last summer's drive-by of the town, I'd spied some quirky 'Woodstockers' roaming the streets clad in period garb from the heydays and stores that appeared to contain some titillating treasures. Arriving in town, we were welcomed by those same quirky folk adorning the sidewalks in their hippy gear while drowning us with their melodies. I'm certain street-side concerts are the only way they can add "I've played at Woodstock" to their musical accolades.<br />
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Food was our priority so once we parked we perused a menu or two before deciding on "Oriole9" mainly selecting it to fulfill my need to um...well, use the facilities. Secretly I think my body was guiding us to the pot of gold at the end of our somewhat somber rainbow of a weekend. And thank god for that. We were seated almost immediately despite the line of parties of 4+ (another pro of being a party of 2!) I ordered a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and the boy went for an Ommegang Stout. Perfect. But no. The waitress returned quickly, "I'm so sorry, but we're out of that beer. How about the Six Point Triple Sweet Action." Perfect. But no. Again, she returned...uh-oh, I didn't like where this was headed. And from the boy's face, he didn't either. Was this weekend just perpetually doomed? But this time the waitress returned with a cold beer in hand; she'd taken it upon herself to get him something similar, and apparently the last bottle of it. A gulp of relief. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zbX5tlEdUpg/T19wRdpuF7I/AAAAAAAABEM/ekTE2jils8A/s1600/Oriole9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zbX5tlEdUpg/T19wRdpuF7I/AAAAAAAABEM/ekTE2jils8A/s400/Oriole9.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oriole9, as photographed by <a href="http://experiencewoodstock.blogspot.com/">"Experience Woodstock" Blogger</a>. </td></tr>
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Starved, we perused the <a href="http://www.oriole9.com/pdfs/or9menu2012.pdf">menu</a> and the specials. Where to begin. I could eat my toe. We ordered up some homemade hot wings (extra spicy) while we mulled it over. On the specials list was a lamb wrap sandwich with all sorts of yummyness inside....specifically a grilled lamb kofte with roasted tomato, shredded red onion, and basil cream. Typically, the boy and I will order separate dishes so we can share; once we asked inquired about the special, the waitress's face and the whimper of delight that escaped her solidified our order: one lamb wrap each. Add pickles. To our dismay, they forgot the pickles. But what was an incredibly tasty and scrumptiously delicious wrap fared just as well alone. Not a morsel was left on our plates. I didn't even take the time for a photo.<br />
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While enjoying our meal and our bevies, I read an <a href="http://www.ediblecommunities.com/hudsonvalley/winter-2011-2012/eat-here.htm">article</a> in "edible Hudson Valley" about the restaurant and it's history. A charming story to go along with our very charming meal...the lucky charm at the end of our not so charmed Catskill escape.Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-27848975713751532222012-03-06T15:19:00.002-05:002012-03-09T10:38:02.761-05:00Not so Rockin' RoxburyAs the mildest winter in my East Coast history apparently comes to an end (<i>please don't jinx me with a Nor'easter next week!</i>), we took the February long weekend to escape for 48 hours up to the Catskill Mountains. The boy was very excited about a place he booked through <a href="http://www.tablethotels.com/">Tablet Hotels</a>, which covers a wide variety of unique, boutique & luxury hotels.<br />
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Being the creepy googler that I am, I did my pre-trip research to ensure we packed in the most adventure on our escapade. I'll admit, most of the area activities (especially in winter) are relegated to the area ski slopes, but I was enthralled by the idea of tubing since it was such a <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/01/holiday-hulabaloo-from-coast-to-coast.html">blast</a> in 2011! I thought I'd have more trouble identifying our hotel (<i>without cheating and asking</i>), but there was only one hotel in Roxbury on Tablet so I had no doubts. No doubts that we were staying in a motel. A themed motel. Albeit with lime green painted doors and black shutters and an apparently "B&B" style hospitality. Yet still a motel. With a themed room. I quickly adjusted my expectations. Apparently the boy did not. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-29lAI0TKizE/T1ZpuBkQHkI/AAAAAAAABEE/s9d8BzzQNrw/s1600/Tubing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-29lAI0TKizE/T1ZpuBkQHkI/AAAAAAAABEE/s9d8BzzQNrw/s400/Tubing.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*From our 2011 Tubing Trip...the Plattekill hill is MUCH longer. But we didn't bring a camera so you'll have to use your imagination!</td></tr>
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The drive was lovely. We cruised up to the <a href="http://theroxburymotel.com/">Roxbury Motel</a> in the late afternoon, just in time for an evening cocktail and then the whole night ahead of us. At check-in, we were given the lay of the land by the hostess. Guests could borrow DVD's, games, and grab snacks from the "lobby" area, and each room had it's own refrigerator with chilled wine for our enjoyment ($20/bottle - no real up-charge - <i>ok, things are looking up</i>..) Also, the restaurant next door, <a href="http://publiclounge.net/">Public Lounge</a>, was open for dinner (and purportedly quite good.) We inquired about other restaurants. "Oh, there is this fabulous one, the <a href="http://www.peekamooserestaurant.com/">Peekamoose Restaurant</a>, but it's about a 25 minute drive." Next. The only other place in town was a pizza joint. This creepy googler had already pre-approved Public Lounge's menu anyway. Phew!<br />
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"So would you like to see Fred's Lair?" our gracious host asked? Hmm? It turns out (<i>big shocker here</i>) that we all have preconceived notions about pop culture references. The boy heard "Fred's Lair" and obviously thought Fred Schneider of the B-52's (Kate Pierson, also of the B-52's has a B&B in the Catskills, which he mistakenly thought was the Roxbury Motel.) I, on the other hand, thought Flintstone. I wish he'd been right. A pebbled foyer beckoned us into Room #12. As we ventured in, we were transported to cavemen times in our room replete with brown, mottled "boulders" adorning the walls, zebra/lion/tiger textiles, fuzzy animal print lampshades, and well, you get the picture. Ok, it's kitschy. We were impressed with the extent to which the owners had taken this theme. It really <i>was </i>Fred's Lair. Go big or go home, right?<br />
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So we did! We threw on our snow pants, headed to Public Lounge for a hot toddy, and headed up to <a href="http://www.plattekill.com/winter/tubing">Plattekill Mountain </a>for some night tubing! It was terribly cold and the snow blowers were right on top of us while we waited 25 minutes for our run, but it was one wonderful, jump on your chest giggle-filled ride!!!! I envied the kids who waited in line over an over for another shot at a run down the mountain. Our patience isn't up to snuff for those conditions and a warm meal was waiting us back at Public Lounge. And dinner was really excellent with an entertaining and engaging waitstaff, great food, and wonderful company so the abbreviated tubing was just enough. <br />
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The close out the evening and walk off our dinner, we ventured for a jaunt around town. Jaunt might imply a lengthier venture than we were afforded. Besides the pizza parlor and the gas station/convenience store, there was just a smattering of homes and some previously occupied retail spaces. Similar to the landscape of the rest of the area, it appears that the Catskills were pretty hard hit by the effects of Hurricane Irene in August of 2011. In that respect, I'm glad we were supporting the community. <br />
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Departing the next morning, we were happy to turn over the keys to the Lair. Sleep was fitful at best for both of us with uncomfortable linens, pillows, and a loud, and inconsistent, window air conditioning unit. Several coffees later we attempted to shake off the grumpy's and simply enjoy the ride back through the country to our great city and our own comfy lairs. Another travel stop checked off the list.Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-10995248837532501752012-02-15T14:41:00.002-05:002012-02-15T14:43:51.261-05:00D.C. Diversions...Last weekend I went and visited <a href="http://outandaboutafrica.blogspot.com/">Ms. gchatalot-now-scramble-fiend friend</a> for a weekend of fun and adventure in our Nation's capital. We generally play things by ear but like to have good eats, good wine, and good entertainment. Oh, plus some sort of activity where we burn a couple calories from the other good stuff we indulge in.<br />
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For once, I arrived "early" on the bus (oh I dream of the day I can take the much more $$ train!) at 8:15 PM. So we were able to do dinner at this darling Belgian resto, <a href="http://www.granvillemoores.com/">Dr. Granville Moore's</a>, who, according to their website, pumps out over 1,200 pounds of mussels and 1,400 pounds of potatoes every week! The wait was insane (2+ hours) and the hostess most certainly didn't have the mostest in terms of positive attitude, but the beer was fabulous (all Belgians) and the mussels were worth the wait. I had the Mostard Moules e Frites with the chili mayo side. YUM. The hefty Belgian ABV numbers left us sated and toasty and ready for bed and the next day to come. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E_-JD4HVZrk/TzwAtEjE7NI/AAAAAAAABD0/X7VeGsNlZgs/s1600/basquiat-birdonmoney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-E_-JD4HVZrk/TzwAtEjE7NI/AAAAAAAABD0/X7VeGsNlZgs/s400/basquiat-birdonmoney.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Bird on Money" by Jean-Michel Basquiat. Courtesy of <i>30 Americans</i> Exhibit.</td></tr>
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While slightly slow to get going the next morning (it might have had to do with the wine we had for dessert), we still made the most of our Saturday. One of our stops was at the Corcoran Gallery of Art to catch the last day of "<a href="http://www2.corcoran.org/30americans/">30 Americans.</a>" The show highlighted 31 African American artists that have made significant contributions to the art world. A large majority of the art was quite contemporary, which is not typically my style, but I really did enjoy seeing Glenn Ligon and Jean-Michel Basquiat. <br />
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<a href="http://www2.corcoran.org/30americans/artists/glenn-ligon">Ligon</a>, who we saw here at The Whitney Museum last year, is known for his practice of "intertextuality", the weaving of words and phrases into new messages within art pieces. The other piece that caught my eye (pictured above) was by <a href="http://www2.corcoran.org/30americans/artists/jean-michel-basquiat">Jean-Michel Basquiat</a>, who tragically died at only 28-years old, but left us with not only his artistic legacy but also his <a href="http://www.rushhour.nl/sounds/57408_6.mp3">musical legacy</a>. <br />
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The other highlight of my trip was the visit to the Smithsonian's American History Museum where we saw two intriguing exhibits. The first was entitled "<a href="http://www.si.edu/Exhibitions/Details/Slavery-at-Jefferson%27s-Monticello-Paradox-of-Liberty-4757">Slavery at Jefferson's Monticello: Paradox of Liberty</a>", which explored slavery through the context of Jefferson's Virginia estate, Monticello. A President who authored the Declaration of Independence and who was opposed (albeit conflicted on the debate) to the concept of slavery, Jefferson employed over 600 slaves during his life at Monticello. Through the exhibit you learn who these slaves were, how the lived, what became of them after Jefferson's death, and their historical places in and imprints on society.<br />
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The second exhibit that we capitalized on seeing at the American History Museum was "<a href="http://www.si.edu/Exhibitions/Details/The-Star-Spangled-Banner-The-Flag-that-Inspired-the-National-Anthem-227">The Star-Spangled Banner: The Flag that Inspired the National Anthem.</a>" For anyone who has seen my photography or knows me, I have a weird obsession with flags, especially the American Flag. So this was fortuitously SO up my alley! The two stars of this show were the the actual flag flown at the Battle of Baltimore in the War of 1812 and the technology. The flag is preserved in a very low-light, climate controlled room, and only observable through a pane of glass. Years of exposure to light and other elements have greatly deteriorated the flag, but it's enormity (30 ft x 34 ft) and its 15 stars pocked by bullets is an exceptional site to see and the obvious inspiration for our National Anthem. Once past the flag, you encounter a large, tactile panel that has a scrolling, life-sized image of the flag. The panel is interactive and you can touch on highlighted parts of the flag and learn about certain marks on the flag, the preservation techniques, and other facts. All Mac produced...thank you Steve Jobs.<br />
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An ironic - and bittersweet - end to the exhibit and to my DC visit was a photo montage at the end of the show. It highlighted famous moments for the flag and for the singing of the "Star-Spangled Banner." One of the most highly acclaimed performances was in 1991 when Whitney Houston sang the National Anthem at the Super Bowl. She'd passed away that morning, February 12, 2012.Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-12697609730751327062012-01-11T11:20:00.002-05:002012-01-11T11:20:58.542-05:00Creative InfluencesYou've obviously read my blog. And vicariously seen some of my photography. You might not have seen my photo books, which are my newest <strike>nuisance</strike> creative outlet. I'm on my second year of "Any Place But Home....in photos." So far the readers/recipients have been my family, but they act as one more reciprocal of my travel memories year on year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mtm5OIAIa74/Twz_2VzKhtI/AAAAAAAABC8/xo38AdDn31o/s1600/IMG_8351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mtm5OIAIa74/Twz_2VzKhtI/AAAAAAAABC8/xo38AdDn31o/s400/IMG_8351.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2010 Photo Book - Oregon</td></tr>
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Growing up, I had photo albums, scrap books, and memory boxes galore! A few years ago, I approached my mom looking for a comparable compilation about my childhood - you know, photos of my first steps, my first tooth, lock of hair from my first hair cut. Alas, my <strike>hoarding</strike> collecting of memorabilia stems from my paternal side apparently. Dad keeps everything (much to the chagrin of my mother who secretly absconds with the most heinous items. <i>Shh, don't tell!</i>)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HASW1PFEkE/Tw0AbMnv7NI/AAAAAAAABDE/OP8A557NB_Q/s1600/IMG_8353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--HASW1PFEkE/Tw0AbMnv7NI/AAAAAAAABDE/OP8A557NB_Q/s400/IMG_8353.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2011 Photo Album - Newport, RI</td></tr>
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Given my mom's penchant for art and art history, including her own creative capacity for art, I was admittedly quite disappointed at this discovery. This emotion was exacerbated when I visited the boy's family and his father brought out EIGHT albums (a selection of the whole library) cataloging his formidable years. I was quick to share this experience with my mom, unfairly comparing it to our more limited "library" at home. "How wonderful for them!" she said. Harumph! <br />
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As such, NOTHING could have prepared me for this Christmas. (<i>The tears are welling up as I type.</i>) We typically open one present on Christmas Eve and the rest on Christmas Morning. This year we had my parents, the boy, my best friend in the whole world, and her parents (also very close to our family) celebrating Christmas brunch. During brunch I had handed the boy and my parents the 2011 photo book to open, peruse, and share with the table. But the rest of the presents would be opened later.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fnO0OSzHAg/Tw0BoI4-p9I/AAAAAAAABDc/w5sYR0z0cOc/s1600/IMG_8367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7fnO0OSzHAg/Tw0BoI4-p9I/AAAAAAAABDc/w5sYR0z0cOc/s400/IMG_8367.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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While brunch was winding down, I saw my parents conspiring in the kitchen and before I knew it they were next to me with a stack of three presents wrapped in beautiful, shiny green paper. What were they and why was I opening them now in front of everyone?! What escaped that wrapping paper one by one were three of the most thoughtful and well done albums I could have ever asked for. My mom painstakingly researched, copied, hand wrote, organized, and collaborated with my Aunt and Father to give me my own perfectly articulated "library" of my family history and my life in photos.<br /><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NkdU58ZORgQ/Tw0A2-d1TbI/AAAAAAAABDM/4f8OsqZJTdk/s1600/IMG_8357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NkdU58ZORgQ/Tw0A2-d1TbI/AAAAAAAABDM/4f8OsqZJTdk/s400/IMG_8357.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All three albums</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QcfyqMbKFG4/Tw2H__tH-tI/AAAAAAAABDk/6ZXJB1PdHrM/s1600/IMG_8371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QcfyqMbKFG4/Tw2H__tH-tI/AAAAAAAABDk/6ZXJB1PdHrM/s400/IMG_8371.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me on the right, my mom on the left. Notice light bulb head comparison.</td></tr>
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The first album is a photographic family history of both my maternal and paternal sides including photos of my parents and grandparents as children. It's verifiable - my light bulb shaped head comes directly from my mother (see photo.) The second album features <b>ME</b> from infancy to date - some less flattering images could have been "lost" but that's ok...oh those permed bangs! And the third album has photos of all the special friends that have been with my throughout my life, including one we recently lost. I thank my lucky stars that I was surrounded by the people I most love because I was <b>blubbering</b> through each page - so touched and emotionally overwhelmed at my mother's thoughtful and loving creation. It was the <b>BEST. PRESENT. EVER.</b> Thanks Mom & Dad (and Aunt Betsy.) Now I'll have to do the same some day for my (future) kids.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-evNHGkYoX7Q/Tw0BPikuR-I/AAAAAAAABDU/c9Ghe_YFetQ/s1600/IMG_8362.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-evNHGkYoX7Q/Tw0BPikuR-I/AAAAAAAABDU/c9Ghe_YFetQ/s400/IMG_8362.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom's family including my Aunt's class photo in the center.</td></tr>
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<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-59572580390748469742011-12-30T10:30:00.000-05:002011-12-30T10:35:28.867-05:00Sun setting on another year...As we bring 2011 to a close and the office is mighty quiet, my mind begins to wander as I envision what's in store for the year to come. My co-hort in travel obsession, <strike>Mrs</strike>. <a href="http://www.outandaboutafrica.blogspot.com/">G-chat-a-lot friend of years</a> read my last post and says, "So HELLO, where are you going to travel to in 2012!?" My answer, "I don't know." EEK!<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CKxInLQEYeU/TvtaoFE1LLI/AAAAAAAABCs/Lo5Hunh63oI/s1600/394612_2935059536742_1268694864_33197438_1306258852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CKxInLQEYeU/TvtaoFE1LLI/AAAAAAAABCs/Lo5Hunh63oI/s400/394612_2935059536742_1268694864_33197438_1306258852_n.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div>
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I was spoiled in 2011. I mean, let's be honest, how many people (who don't travel for work) get to visit 2 continents and 4 countries in one year? Not many. And that's not including all the fun domestic travel I did too. </div>
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So for 2012, here's what is on the books so far: </div>
<ul>
<li>We are for sure planning a trip back here (see below) in March. </li>
<li>A January "kids" trip to San Francisco & Healdsburg in January (including dinner <a href="http://www.scopahealdsburg.com/">here</a>, lunch <a href="http://www.barndiva.com/">here</a>, beers <a href="http://www.bearrepublic.com/home.php">here</a>, and staying <a href="http://www.h2hotel.com/home/">here</a>.)</li>
</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1GyUydun3M8/Tvtaod7T09I/AAAAAAAABC0/e8zIEz2rjow/s400/389828_2935065296886_1268694864_33197452_1091745999_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Home</td></tr>
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<ul>
<li>A weekend in DC with Ms. gchat-a-lot. Cooking at home, museums, maybe some photography, & walks around town. </li>
<li>Ski Trip...hopefully. Compared to my return to NYC after last year's Christmas, this year I returned to mid-40's and rain instead of snowmageddon. It's not looking good...I might have to fly somewhere drastic to fill my need for snowboard speed (<i>nerdy chills, shh</i>.) </li>
<li>Summer Trip to Maine. My last trip to Maine was during Thanksgiving in college. I was naive to all the amazing places to visit and seriously missed out on some fun in Portland, Freeport, etc.</li>
</ul>
So far that's all that is on my agenda, but knowing me, the gaps will somehow get filled. And I'll be sure to capture it in photos and write up some fun anecdotes for those of you interested enough to follow along!<br />
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Happy Holidays & Happy New Year to Everyone. May 2012 bring us all a LOT of luck, prosperity, happiness, and love. </div>
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xoxox JEG.</div>
<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-23661709932743617072011-12-27T10:00:00.000-05:002011-12-27T11:26:06.375-05:00Looking ForwardAbout this same time last year I was catching up on my blog posts (history repeating itself proven true once again), and I started looking towards my 2012 plans. I won't call them goals as that's opening an old can of worms. Growing up, there was an inevitable "goals" chat with my dad. We'd be sitting at a restaurant at some point close to the end of the year and he'd pull out a pen from his shirt pocket while simultaneously flipping over the paper place mat. My brother Mike and I would invariably groan and plead to postpone the dreaded exercise. Dad would ask us to list our goals for the next year in the following categories (<i>'all on one hand</i>', he says): 1. Spiritual Life 2. Family Life 3. Career (Professional Life) 4. Physical Fitness & 5. Relaxation & Hobbies. As an adult, I now appreciate the exercise (<i>shh, don't tell Dad!</i>); however, as a 9 year old, I really wasn't thinking so long term. My next sleepover was paramount on my list.<br />
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Fast forward many years (<i>and a huge brother-sister coup where we refused to do our goals forever more</i>), I now create lists for myself of things I'd like to accomplish. They deviate from the structure my dad has us follow, but his underlying motivation is there nonetheless. For purposes of this blog, I created two lists for the year of Places to Visit in 2011 and Things to do around NYC. Let's review how I fared with each of these while I contemplate what's on the books for 2012.<br />
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<b>Top Places to Visit...in 2011 </b><br />
Miami - <span style="color: #0b5394;">Fantastic bachelorette party weekend in April. It was mid-Lent and I took my well-earned dispensation of bread and booze here! </span><br />
Snowboard - somewhere! -<span style="color: #0b5394;"> In March, <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/03/whirlwind-weeks.html">I shot to Denver</a> to visit my brother and got in almost a whole day of riding. It was glorious, but I hope for many more days in 2012. </span><br />
Basel, Lyon, Interlaken, Zurich & the Unterengadin - <span style="color: #0b5394;">This became Berlin, Basel, Burgundy (& Lyon), Lake Annecy, Murten & Zurich. </span><a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/07/berlin-to-baselthe-next-leg-begins.html" style="color: #0b5394;">STELLAR trip</a><span style="color: #0b5394;">! </span><br />
Manchester, VT - <span style="color: #0b5394;"><a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/06/road-tripping-to-manchester-vt.html">Most fun wedding ever</a>!!!!! </span><br />
Berlin - <span style="color: #0b5394;">See above or read </span><a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/07/being-berlinday-one.html" style="color: #0b5394;">here</a><span style="color: #0b5394;">. </span><br />
Peru - Lima, Cuzco & Machu Picchu. <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/02/add-to-your-bucket-list-machu-picchu.html" style="color: #0b5394;">Beyond words</a><span style="color: #0b5394;">.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w18NeePZ27c/Tu9ztBTNEPI/AAAAAAAABCY/CXYKlkN4qFE/s1600/9059965080105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w18NeePZ27c/Tu9ztBTNEPI/AAAAAAAABCY/CXYKlkN4qFE/s400/9059965080105.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Annecy, France</td></tr>
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Where I excelled at the Travel goals, I failed on the Around the Town To Do’s. The boy saved me with an invitation to do trapeze school back in June, which was amazing. <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/06/swinging-summer-schemes.html">I kind of was a natural</a>, to be honest. And just last week the boy and I attended a classical holiday concert at Carnegie Hall. It wasn’t quite the tour, but at least I got INSIDE the building finally! And we didn't do a Twilight Boat Cruise, but we did a beer tasting one...that almost counts. <br />
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<b>Around Town To Do's.... </b><br />
NYC Police Museum<br />
Ellis Island<br />
Carnegie Hall Tour<br />
Murder at the Met<br />
Rock Climbing in Brooklyn<br />
Trapeze School - YES!<br />
Radio City Music Hall Tour<br />
Picnic & Cloisters Visit<br />
Lincoln Center Tour<br />
Twilight Boat Cruise<br />
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I guess as lists (i.e. goals) go, you can't always get to all of them...or then what would you aspire to for the next year! So here's to 2012 and all the new things there are to explore, experience, enjoy, and envisage for life. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f7Nm__EIy8k/Tu90cYncXQI/AAAAAAAABCg/9LpKycMwDUQ/s1600/3547665080105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f7Nm__EIy8k/Tu90cYncXQI/AAAAAAAABCg/9LpKycMwDUQ/s400/3547665080105.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Many small people who in small places do many small things that can alter the face of the World." - East Side Gallery, Berlin, Germany</td></tr>
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<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-2462996569180105332011-12-16T13:49:00.000-05:002011-12-16T10:51:29.140-05:00Hidden charms of Hudson, NYWhile reading one of the many blogs I follow this summer, I came across a link for the very charming <a href="http://www.hudsonmerchanthouse.com/Site/Home.html">Hudson Merchant House</a> in Hudson, NY. We'd been talking about doing a weekend getaway upstate during the Fall so I shared the link with the boy and minutes later we were booked! Neither of us had ever been there before nor had really even heard of this town along the Hudson River. As I had a few months to prepare, I began researching the town and planning our escape. Everything I read made me excited for the upcoming adventure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GfdlrfVMDDo/TukctvXeu_I/AAAAAAAABBs/_oHZMuMZDJk/s1600/Hudson2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GfdlrfVMDDo/TukctvXeu_I/AAAAAAAABBs/_oHZMuMZDJk/s400/Hudson2.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Design & Antique stores line Warren Street</td></tr>
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Over the past few decades Hudson has experienced a renaissance of sorts, evolving from a somewhat rundown riverside town just north of the ultra chic Rhinebeck (Chelsea Clinton's wedding site) to a trendy, yet still bohemian, village. Where Rhinebeck exudes the allure of the West Village, Hudson proffers SoHo style galleries, antique stores, and restaurants.<br />
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From everything I'd read, it appeared that Hudson was quite manageable on foot so we opted for the less stressful Amtrak train from Penn Station to Hudson, avoiding the traffic crush of a Friday night. We jumped aboard, grabbed ourselves a happy hour beer and settled in for the lovely sunset ride along the Hudson River. Upon arrival, we walked two blocks to our cozy bed and breakfast where one of our hosts, Roy, was waiting for us at the door with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and his darling black lab circling excitedly at his heels. What service!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6P0HYdwkd3A/Tukcv64dCnI/AAAAAAAABCE/ODOx8UDgbOk/s1600/Hudson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6P0HYdwkd3A/Tukcv64dCnI/AAAAAAAABCE/ODOx8UDgbOk/s400/Hudson.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charming facade typical of many Hudson Homes</td></tr>
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Mike and his partner, Roy, quickly acquainted us with the house and it's amenities. Breakfast was served in the morning at a communal table shared by the guests - and without getting too far ahead, it was scrumptious! Mike is a fabulous cook! Our room, <a href="http://www.hudsonmerchanthouse.com/Site/Newport_Room.html">The Newport Room</a>, was perfectly appointed with a patio overlooking the backyard. After washing up, we decided to head up Warren Street (<i>for all intents and purposes THE main drag of Hudson</i>) and settled on the perfect venue for dinner, <a href="http://www.americanglory.com/">American Glory BBQ</a>. The glory wasn't in the food, but it certainly was in the atmosphere with a charming bartender, easily assessed basic menu, and good cocktails. Perfect for the early Friday night we needed. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YDy0CD58j2M/TukcuYpSSSI/AAAAAAAABB0/VW0aRpW0Ikk/s1600/Hudson5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YDy0CD58j2M/TukcuYpSSSI/AAAAAAAABB0/VW0aRpW0Ikk/s400/Hudson5.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GLEE!</td></tr>
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We awoke Saturday morning snuggled in our comfy bed to forecasts of snow and the smell of a home cooked meal wafting up the staircase. Following our delectable breakfast, we set out to take advantage of the day. A slight chill in the overcast sky, we ventured first to the park overlooking the river snapping a few photos and exerting our inner children on the swings! Invigorated, we spent the day exploring the town with several highlight stops. One was our brief reprieve at <a href="http://www.thespottydog.com/blog/">The Spotty Dog Books & Ale</a> where we savored craft brews and browsed their literary selection. Another was our late lunch at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cafe-Le-Perche/201326923220681">Cafe Le Perche,</a> a recently opened French Bistro & Bakery on Warren Street. While savoring our squash soup and spicy Syrah, the first snow of the season descended on the town of Hudson. It was magically romantic. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onslaught of the first snow. </td></tr>
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Exhausted from our explorations (and another long NYC week), we decided to relax in the Newport Room before heading to our highly anticipated dinner at <a href="http://www.swoonkitchenbar.com/index_swoon.html">Swoon Kitchen Bar</a>. With the snow quietly accumulating outside our B&B, we enjoyed some late afternoon movies and a quick nap (<i>we're getting old, you know...</i>) Dinner, relative to our meals at the Hudson Merchant House, La Perche, and our Sunday lunch at <a href="http://www.camearestaurant.com/">Ca'Mea</a> was wildly disappointing given the reviews I'd read <a href="http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/hudsons-latest-act">here</a> and <a href="http://nymag.com/travel/weekends/hudson/">here</a>, but you can't always win. The company was blissful nonetheless. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The aftermath.</td></tr>
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Snow blanketed the town and glimmered in the sun as we awoke Sunday morning. Such a treat! We walked about town kicking around the snow and enjoying the smell of freshly fallen snowflakes and <strike>winter</strike> fall (<i>this was October still.</i>). Always the competitive one, I'd brought with me my pack of UNO cards suggesting we cap off the trip with some friendly rivalry. We sidled up to a comfy corner at <a href="http://www.legamin.com/LE_GAMIN.html">Le Gamin Country</a> with some escargots and two Sancerres and, well, I obviously creamed him. What a great way to finish a fantastic weekend!!!! <i>The boy is still trying to win back his pride....</i><br />
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<br />Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-48317656353528044662011-12-14T11:20:00.002-05:002011-12-14T11:20:46.818-05:0010 Days til Christmas!!!!!!A week from today I'm going home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To <a href="http://lodging4vacations.com/solana-beach-san-diego/1-solana-beach-b.jpg">this</a> beautiful place!!!!!!!!!!!!! To see my mutti and putti!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And get some <u>much</u> needed Vitamin D (I could audition for True Blood at this point) and to see great friends, meet a very cute little tot, and to RELAX on the couch looking at the fabulous ocean out the window of my parents house. (<i>Can you tell I'm excited? The overuse of exclamation points could not be avoided.</i>)<br /><br />
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Oh yeah, and we get to whip out our wicked cool elf hats again. This year we've added a hat for a new guest who will be joining us. We'll see if he behaves or if he goes home with a lump of coal in his pocket. The Dad will be the judge....<br /><br />
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Happy Holidays everyone! Get in the spirit with some good old <a href="http://grooveshark.com/s/Last+Christmas+Single+Version+/41QRJS?src=5">Holiday Music</a>! (<i>Currently rocking this at my desk...</i>) Maybe this year we'll get <a href="http://jenngallivan.blogspot.com/2011/01/holiday-hulabaloo-from-coast-to-coast.html">"stuck" in San Diego</a> again....Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-23918076113915225792011-11-10T15:01:00.001-05:002011-11-10T16:58:30.160-05:00Fleeting FallSchizophrenic. That's how I'd describe the seasons this year on the East Coast. Spring came late and lasted about three days before blasting us into a really stinking HOT summer. Once again elbow sweat was the headliner of many a conversation. The heat was interminable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fall Dinner Party - handmade place settings!</td></tr>
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That is, until one day, when it became Fall! The best season of the year! Colorful scarves, quilted coats, argyle socks, knee high boots...these fabulous accouterments return to the wardrobe. The crisp smell of an impending winter was in the air, the changing foliage, the smell of burned leaves, pumpkin flavored everything. And then it snowed. In October. Not since I was a child trick-or-treating in Minnesota have I experience snow in October. Fall was out faster than <a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/gallery/10-TV-shows-canceled-faster-playboy-243694">The Playboy Club</a>. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hudson River Fete</td></tr>
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Before Octoblizzard arrived, we did capture a few moments of fall bliss with a fall dinner party, scarves galore, and a day outing up the Hudson. We picnicked by the river, visited an apple orchard and pumpkin patch, and visited "<a href="http://www.hudsonvalley.org/events/blaze">The Blaze</a>." The day of our outing was perfect...crisp enough for the proper fall attire, but sunny too so sitting along the Hudson River was still enjoyable. We met up with good friends in Ossining and drove down to the river. A little Marques de Riscal to imbibe, charcuterie from Eataly, homemade tortellini salad, truffle cheese...a perfect fall feast!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sigh.</td></tr>
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Our group enjoyed ourselves immensely and after a relaxing in the sun digesting our treats we headed to the pumpkin patch to collect pumpkins and pick apples. At least that was our plan. A side effect of the abbreviated fall was a truncated opportunity to pick apples and pumpkins. To our chagrin, we arrived to a patch of putrefied pumpkins and barren apple trees. We weren't the only ones disappointed - unfortunately this little boy's parents had delayed too long as well. Despite no pumpkins or apples, we still enjoyed walking around the farm and seeing the little kids riding on the tractor, racing each other in their red radio flyer wagons, and running around the fields.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Blaze</td></tr>
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We still had one more stop to make, one that I had really been looking forward to - The Blaze. Our friends in Ossining had found this delightful event, and I couldn't have guessed that it would be so spectacular! Over 5,000 pumpkins (a mix of real and synthetic) had all been hand carved and displayed in an outdoor walking tour at the Van Cortland Manor. The Blaze has been going on for seven years now and has had over 80,000 visitors. The artistry is compelling and creative, the themes are inventive and unique, and it's a beautiful nighttime stroll that isn't haunting or horrifying. Luckily we visited before it snowed! Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-40718479972048988082011-09-13T13:24:00.002-04:002011-09-13T13:24:55.056-04:00If only...If only I had any vacation left this year or several large bills laying about unaccounted for...because if I did, I'm pretty sure I'd book a vacation to one of the amazing places shown on the <a href="http://www.uniquehomestays.com/">Unique Home Stays</a> website. Oh, and you'd be invited (assuming we didn't max out on the # of people.)<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Paltz...not quite as far as I'd like to go...</td></tr>
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I mean, where to start... A <a href="http://www.uniquehomestays.com/unique/details.asp?id=1049">castle</a> in the Scottish highlands? A <a href="http://www.uniquehomestays.com/unique/details.asp?id=482">beachfront estate</a> in Cornwall? A luxury B&B in a <a href="http://www.uniquehomestays.com/unique/details.asp?id=1220">Tuscan villa</a>? Torture, pure torture.<br />
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If only. Maybe someday? Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3283982605540852887.post-68177199699538165192011-09-07T21:21:00.000-04:002011-09-08T09:30:22.449-04:00I am....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am a bag lady. Not in the traditional sense where I live on the streets and consider a door stoop my hovel, but close enough. Also not in the romantic traveler way where I'm traipsing around Europe with my Louis Vuitton luggage hopping from Relais & Chateux to the next (let's be honest, the days of back packs and hostels are WAY past. Too many horror stories to find it fun and "campy." Crunch is not for me.) That being said, I'm a bag lady nonetheless - sans the LV, my Longchamp must suffice. One day I'll upgrade, I swear. How did I come to this realization? Well, it's been coming for a time, but today, hiding under a building awning on the Upper East Side, attempting to avoid the deluge of rain pouring sideways at me, I was struggling with my huge bag to exchange my high heels for flip flops while attempting to stay upright as fellow commuters rammed into me (I swear it was intentional...damn New Yorkers!) Love them, hate them, now I'm one of them.<br />
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In the past few months, I've moved, I've been house sitting, I've lived in between my new apartment and my boyfriend's apartment, I've evacuated the city to escape a hurricane, I've escaped the city for weekend adventures, I've gotten up at 5:30 AM to get to the gym, departing home with all my accoutrement for the day ahead, and it's wearing on me. I've become a bag lady. And I swear one day it will catch up with me. I'm only 32, but there will come the day that I'll be holding my future child hunched over, the bag lady comeuppance.<br />
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I'm not alone. Many of my friends here in New York know this same lifestyle. We live out of our bags and have learned to travel (near and far) in the most economic manner, while still torturing our shoulders, backs, and arms. It just is. Somehow the boys manage in some alternative universe (including my boyfriend whose things appear in my bag...hmm.) One day we'll grow up and live in homes and have cars and not be bag ladies. Our friends in Minnesota and California do it, which of course means we will too, right? Um, Bueller, Bueller?<br />
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As a good friend reminded me today, I live in one of the coolest cities in the world. And despite the humidity, hurricanes, apparent earthquakes, rain deluges, snowmageddon's and what have you, being a bag lady in this place is a sacrifice I'm willing to make. But Connecticut is still calling....Jenn E. Gallivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09749392981616950438noreply@blogger.com1