Simple Pleasures: Going Up North

Wildflowers picked from the ditches beside the dirt road leading to the cabin. 

Minnesotans may love summer but they love their cabins even more. Eric and I joke that we really messed up when we married one another since neither one of us has a cabin in the family. Luckily, some good friends invited us to join them up north recently.

It was an idyllic weekend on a lake with only seven homes on it. It was so quiet that when a car pulled up across the way, you could hear the gravel crunching beneath the tires. There were two loons nesting on the lake, and they had a tiny baby just a week old. Stasha and I stole across the glassy water in a canoe and got close enough to see the mother's ox blood red eyes.

On the drive up, we stopped at Lavaliers farm and picked hundreds of strawberries that were shiny jewels of perfect juice. Our fingers and mouths were stained pink all weekend. We cooked some incredible meals- is there anything more summery than grilled sweet corn, burgers and watermelon?

We slept underneath taxidermy dear heads in a genuine log cabin that has been in her family for three generations. In fact, her grandfather told us that he first visited when he was just a few weeks old. There were no passable roads to the lake, so the only way in was by canoe, and that very canoe served as his crib that first summer.

Besides the complete stillness, the lovely company, and jumping off the dock into the icy cold water, I loved picking wildflowers with my friend. The boys joined us and we all picked tiny, delicious wild raspberries. We had fun turning the flowers into arrangements in whatever containers we could find in her grandmother's cupboards, jelly jars, bowls and an old tin camp cup.

After two days of slow and quiet, it felt so good to get back to my life in the city. I can see the magic of a going up north- it's just far enough that your mind can get quiet and not long enough to set your expectations impossibly high like you would with a vacation in the Carribean. And going up north isn't necessarily about packing in a million adrenaline packed highs- it's more about slowing down and appreciating what's already there; people you love, the beauty of the natural world and the way even mundane tasks can be pleasurable when you aren't rushing.

What has rejuvenated you this summer? Have you taken time for a vacation?

I filled an old tin camp cup with odds and ends found in the woods. 

It's Easy to Love a Speakeasy

Turn down a dark alley. Find the hidden entrance. Knock secret knock. A slit in the door opens. Suspicious eyes glare out at you. Mumble the password. The door unbolts and you slip inside.

It's easy to romanticize a speakeasy. They are so elicit, so dark and glamorous. But today's speakeasies are better than those of old, because the drinks they serve are made with top shelf liquor, hand squeezed juices, freshly prepared simple syrups and not one drop of barely drinkable bathtub gin. (And you can't get arrested for going to visit one!)


After hearing raves about PDT, but gripes about getting in the door, I hunted through the yelp reviews to find a similar bar. In the end, we settled on The Raines Law Room which was the perfect choice. Reservations by email on a weekday were simple enough to come by, but we were glad we had them when we saw the line up at the door and were able to waltz right through. 

Inside, the bar was dimly lit, with Victorian furnishings and heavy wallpaper that proved quite whimsical on closer examination. The brocade depicted a wild bedroom romp in silhouettes, a perfect post modern touch to what could have seemed a little dour. Buttons on the wall could be pressed when service was needed- a nice way to keep service available but not intrusive.



The drinks themselves were excellent. Well mixed, with quality ingredients and a variety of options that were tantalizing but not overwhelming. I love a good champagne cocktail and tried the Spyglass, while my friend Jessica is into bitter drinks and sipped the Swiss Cartel with it's one massive ice cube. (Make your own giant glass sized cubes by freezing water inside muffin tins!) Her boyfriend Kevin tried the La Molinche which tasted smokey as a wood fired grill.

On our way out, we passed the mustachioed & bow tied doorman and stepped back onto the streets of Manhattan feeling refreshed from having enjoyed a little something secret.

Fun in Brooklyn: Not So Silent Movies at Jalopy!

The Lobster Truck Guys suggested Jalopy when I asked for a cool place to see live music in Brooklyn. So I went. They were totally right on. Tucked onto a dark corner not far from the interstate, this understated little bar is a temple to folk music. With honey colored floors and wooden pews, dusty red velvet curtains and strings of cafe lights hung just haphazardly enough, it feels like a forgotten vaudeville act spiffed up for a new generation.

Jessica and I enjoyed a screening of silent films with live musical accompaniment from The Red Hook Ramblers. Their accompaniments were obviously carefully constructed and rehearsed, but they also had a spontaneity and joy that made the films come to life in a whole new way. I appreciated the role of sound effects and score far more while knowing the fellows behind the curtains were doing it all for us right then and there. They employed all sorts of marvelous gizmos in their quest to tell the story on the screen through music. One was a handheld red box with vents along the side. When the crank was turned, it revealed itself to be a siren wailer. More conventional instruments included washboards, tin pans, pianos, harmonicas, trumpets, accordions and one very large and glorious brass tuba. (Don't you always find yourself wanting to know more about what led someone to take up the tuba? It's a patently absurd looking creation. It's probably the one instrument in history that actually wards off girls.)

We watched three different films that night and enjoyed a few of the Redhook Rambler's original songs, which were full of swing and southern panache that made one want to get up and dance. As I watched these flickering old black and white images, I marveled at how much film has changed. Certainly, films now look more lifelike- they are full of crisp clean edges and vibrant color that one could almost mistake for reality. But in another way, the innocence, and charm of old Hollywood has flaked away over the years, to be replaced with a hard impenetrable lacquer of phoniness and calculation. These silent movies were full of spinning houses, tipsy butlers and cartoonish fist fights. But adding the music back into them reinvigorated them and made them pertinent right now. I doubt anyone could do the same for any Jennifer Lopez film in forty years.

Yep, I'm another Tourist in Love with New York City.

New York City. Craning your neck to catch a glimpse of the Chrysler Building glittering in the sun. Bagels beaded with poppy seeds. The blast of cool air that sends your skirt hem skywards as you head into the subway. Even the peeling paint and rats seem romantic; so perfectly filthily punk rock. There is a dashingly handsome fellow with a flat top haircut, houndstooth coat, chambray shirt, perfectly folded pocket square and a pretty little paper corsage in his buttonhole. The air heavy with the smell of salty meat and garlic wafting off the grills of the kebaab vendors. 

The first time I visited New York, I felt intimidated. I'd heard that New Yorkers were rude and exasperated with tourists. It all felt so huge, I couldn't help but get lost and feel overwhelmed. On my second visit however, I had been in Uganda and Kenya for half a year, and New York felt so utterly and inconceivably American. (Remember the roller rink?) Instead of feeling overwhelming, it immediately felt like a summation of all our ideals as a nation, good and bad. I relaxed and felt at home. And this time, the city felt like an explosion of creative energy, filled with a vibrancy, a zest for life that didn't feel rude or aggressive at all, just joyous. 

What travel really reveals is simply your inner state of mind. If you feel defensive, nervous and shy, all these feelings will be confirmed. If you feel open and enthusiastic, the place you are visiting will rise up to meet you with those same qualities. This is a lesson I am learning over and over; how to cultivate an inner state that allows room for surprise, connection, adventure and freedom. 

 I had fun hopping on the Staten Island Ferry, which is totally free and buzzes right past the Statue of Liberty! I munched on some popcorn and watched the boats, birds and waves. 

Later, I splurged on a Turf Lobster Roll near the Highline from two charming dudes in a vintage airstream. They chatted with me about renovating this trailer, which was gutted and driven to New York from Arizona as an empty hull. They also suggested I check out Jalopy for an evening of folk music. (It was even more charming in person.) 

 I sat there savoring the joys of lobster, mayo and cayenne pepper on a toasty bun, basking in the afternoon light and feeling elated by the idea that everyone's journey is a winding one. There is no hurrying the lessons your life is teaching you.

Later I wandered off the hot dusty street, up the mountain of stairs up to the cool, soaring, marbled elegance of the Metropolitain Museum of Art. I took a winding path past Joan of Arc and through the Italian Renaissance, an elevator rides and then a furtive set of stairs up to the panoramic view of the city from the Met's rooftop bar. It all felt wonderfully secret (rather like in The Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankenweiler)  until I saw the massive line for beer and wine. I enjoyed a drink with my friend Gwen. (Can you believe two girls from The Big Island of Hawaii just happened to be in the same city during the same week?)

As the sun went down and they hustled us all back onto the elevators, and out into the cool night air, I had to admit, I'm another tourist who has fallen hard for New York City. 

Visiting Eugene Oregon: Part III

Take your friend shopping. Nowhere fancy. T.J Maxx will do. She hasn't had the luxury of trying clothes on in a fitting room in years. (Toddler wrangling makes it tough.) Try on silly hats. Giggle a lot. Help her choose a stylish new fedora. Find a pair of swimsuits perfect for her post baby body. (And a cool one for yourself too!) Later, lie out in the sun in the backyard in those perfect new swimsuits and read for an hour or two while the babies sleep. 

 Finish your stop in Eugene with a visit to the excellent Morning Glory Cafe which has a splendid menu of vegetarian and vegan fare.

Admire the oil cloth upholstered booths, the light fixtures made from upcycled salad bowls, the amazing bakery case stocked with a selection of vegan baked goods studded with pumpkin seeds, quinoa, glazed with icing and apricots all shining like jewels. Check out the wait staff too. Dread locks, turbans and hemp never looked so cool. You will be impressed with the extraordinary quality and flavor of the locally sourced food and I promise, you won't even think about missing the meat.

Get up close and personal with the textile artwork of Mari Livie, a talented and passionate Eugene artist. Marvel at the intricate detail and warmth she pours into each hand stitched canvas. Make a mental note to arrange a studio tour with her on your next visit.

Then, grab your suitcase and stroll across the street to the train depot. It seems unchanged by time- inside is all wood floors and glowing oak pews that call up Grand Central Station on a tiny scale. The train will take you to Portland... eventually. 

Don't count on Amtrak to be on time, the journey from Eugene to Portland is just one hour by car, but took me about three via train. Enjoy the journey anyway. You aren't in a hurry, after all. 

Watch the fields roll by, they are green and lush with the first days of summer. Spot clumps of grazing cows, and a field full of freshly shorn sheep resting in the grass. See people sitting on the steps of their trailers, having a smoke. There are so many tiny, ramshackle towns in this giant country of ours. Pass over meandering streams. Get there when you get there, and be thankful of the ride. 

Visiting Eugene, Oregon: A Rough Itinerary Part II

Go to the park with your friend and her babies. This is a nice one. Watch the kids in swimsuits playing in the water on a chilly, overcast day while the grown ups looking after them are bundled in sweatshirts and scarves and marvel at the magical power of a water fountain.

Amble down a side street and admire people's gardens. Consider planting your lawn all in poppies and giving up mowing forever.

Pick a colander full of strawberries from Sarah's marvelous garden. Eat as many as you put in the bowl. Lie in the sunshine in the grass.

Watch your dear friend sharing her love of life with her baby girl.

Rock baby Charlie to sleep. Smell his little baby smell and feel his heavy little head on your arm. Fall crazy in love with him.  

Then take Greg up on his offer to babysit, hop in the car with Sarah and sneak off to Tuesday Boozeday at the Vintage. Have some delicious cocktails laced with homemade herbal and floral infused liqueurs. (They are lined up on the bar in a row of beautiful glass apothecary jars. Lovely.) Have a crepe stuffed with veggies and gooey cheese. Have another cocktail. Why not? They're half off on Tuesdays and you know you want to taste everything this world has to offer you. 

Traveling Light

I managed to pack for my five legged summer adventure in a single carry on suitcase, (two legs down, two more to go!) but am failing to write much of anything about all the wonderful things I've done, seen, tasted and reveled in so far. I'd like to think I'm enjoying the very best thing travel offers; the chance to live entirely in the moment, free of responsibilities or concerns. It's awfully lovely being on vacation. I'll be sharing my itinerary from my visits to Eugene and Portland soon.

How is June treating you?

Packing up!

Source: notetosarah.tumblr.com via Devon on Pinterest

School has ended at last, I've just tapped in a spring recital for the Dancing Tree, today I'm baking a cake for a going away and engagement party for some dear friends and I've been slowly but steadily taking down the tent poles around here while also packing for my summer adventures in Oregon, New York and Minnesota. Whew! I will get back into my blogging routine in earnest as I travel. (We did have fun together last summer in Vienna, didn't we?)

Do you have any summer vacation plans?

Halape in Volcano National Park: Stay Like a Local on the Big Island of Hawai'i

Camping is a past time I am reluctant about. My grandparents in Minnesota are enthusiastic campers who plan extended trips into the pristine Boundary Waters as precisely as any military invasion with detailed menu plans, and sleeping bags rolled down to the size of canned cinnamon buns. They have often waxed rhapsodic about it's joys: The Fresh Air! The Crystal Clear Waters! The Wildlife! The Birds Singing! All of these charms are undeniable. Nothing puts you in a position to appreciate nature like pitching a tent.

Our friends Dan and Lisa are campers of a more relaxed variety and have invited us to join them on more than one occasion for what Lisa calls "Car Camping" which means you simply drive up to the campsite and start drinking and toasting s'mores. While I appreciate the simplicity of this approach, I usually prefer to just get back in my car and sleep in my nice soft bed. We said no many times.

For Spring Break, Lisa proposed a trip down to Halape in Volcano National Park. Here was my chance to try camping for real, in a place without cold, snakes, bears or mosquitoes. I liked the idea of hiking in with provisions on your back to see a place untrammeled by man- like an oasis in the desert. Here was a place I couldn't go or see without camping- it was simply too far and too remote. That appealed to me. We said yes at last.

I borrowed gear from Kristin, bought what she didn't have at a sporting goods store (camping equipment is expensive!) and filled two packs with things I would never normally purchase: bug spray, tuna fish in a pouch, trail mix, water purification tablets and instant coffee.

It seems to me that great food and camping don't mix. You have to rely on things that are dehydrated or canned and can be warmed over an open flame. I confess, there is part of me that enjoys the fantasy of cooking like a cowboy. I just don't enjoy being plunged into the reality of eating like one.

On the appointed day, Eric had come down with the flu. He didn't want to cancel after all the preparations and excitement, so we dosed him with Dayquil and left the house at 4:30a.m to pick up our friends. The idea was to arrive at the permit office first thing. We drove the dark, winding roads with the two round eyes of the Jeep lighting the way, sipping coffee and fantasizing about transforming ourselves into wilderness warriors in a single weekend.

It's a 7.5 mile hike, down from mountain to sea level. In my mind 7.5 miles was totally doable, but I was picturing 7.5 miles of paved trail. Instead, it was 7.5 miles of untamed lava rock in the baking midday sun, the way marked by pyramids of black rocks called kearns. I don't know how Eric managed it in his feverish state. Dan's hiking boots started to peel apart in the heat and we resorted to keeping them together with the elastic from Lisa's sleeping roll. It was exhausting.

After a hard day of hiking with a massive pack of provisions on your back, and blisters on each and every toe, what you most need and want is a long hot bath and a nice soft bed. Neither one are options when camping. Instead, you unfurl a little mat across the rocky ground and collapse beneath a stifling sleeping bag for a night of fitful, dreamless sleep. (Has anyone else noticed that tents are either way too hot or way too cold?)

In the morning though, I was struck by the sublime beauty of the place we found ourselves. It was shockingly quiet- the only sound the wind whipping through the scrubby plants and palm leaves. The whole place felt full of that holy silence that our convenient, modern lives leave no room for. I felt as if we were on a deserted island as we all lay reading quietly. I wondered how that kind of sustained quiet could transform your life.

The next day, we hiked out again. Of course, going up the mountain is more difficult than coming down it and we were all pushed to our limit once again. We stopped for lunch at Hana Hou on the way home and I've never been so happy to see a loco moco in my life. I guess that is another plus for camping- the way it makes you appreciate how easy you have it the rest of the time.

Camping will probably never be something I suggest on my own. However, when people we love offer to take us on an excursion into the wilderness, I'll find it hard to say no to the adventure of the thing.

P.S) This sarong was unquestionably the best item I brought along on the trip. It served as a beach cover up, towel, sun-shield, shawl, scarf and turban. Next time I'd bring less clothes thanks to this little piece of fabric. Are you a camper? What are your must haves on the trail?

Stay Like a Local on The Big Island of Hawaii at Veltris' Ohana!

When Eric & I finally arrived back in Hawaii after our European Summer, we ended up crashing with our dear friends Dan & Lisa. Not knowing how long our house hunt would take, we decided to get a short term vacation rental so we wouldn't cramp their style for more than a few days. Eric scoured Craigslist to find something clean, affordable and centrally located and found Sharon & Frank Veltris' Ohana. It was everything we needed for a home base while we looked, but I think it would be a lovely place for a vacation too.

It was clean, tastefully decorated, and well appointed with a living area, giant closet, partial kitchen (a stove, grill, mini fridge & micro oven)...

A lovely view from the spacious wraparound lanai where we enjoyed watching the sunset each evening...



And a two person jacuzzi tub complete with seascape mural & candles. So nice to soak with a glass of wine after looking at dismal studio apartments all day!

King size bed & cable T.V too- all for $40 a night? I had to tell all of you about it so you can come and see what life in Hawaii is like! You will need a car at this location in the hills above the elementary school, but you'd need one anyway to see all The Big Island has to offer. Sharon & Frank were so friendly and laid back- they made us feel right at home as we hunted for the perfect place. That's real Aloha. Please contact Sharon if you are planning a vacation on The Big Island. Get in touch with her at threespeakATaolDOTcom

Mahalo Veltris!

Visiting Vienna: Tresniewski's How To

Here's how to visit the famous Trzesniewski cafe in Vienna. (Their slogan translates to "unpronounceably good." It's right on the money.)

Go in for a snack around 4 or 5. Select tiny open face sandwiches from the wide variety a the cafeteria style counter. Get a teeny tiny beer to wash it down with. Eric got smoked bacon and egg, mine was sweet pickle relish, a hardboiled egg and lots of paprika.

Find a table inside or stand at the high top tables outside if you've got your dog along. Set to work.

Laugh about your day. Munch. Chit chat. People watch. Relax.

Your work here is done.

Visiting Vienna: An Island Picnic & Summer Fair

Vienna sits right along the Blue Danube (though it's really more a muddy grey color) and in the middle is an island formed by a canal. We decided it would be a nice spot for a picnic.

I made a little trio of pretty salami & cheese sandwhiches, piled the plate high with nectarines and cherries and brought along a little blanket. The weather here this summer has been quite unpredictable this summer and when it started drizzling we decided to pack up and stroll towards the other end. (The island is skinny, but quite long!)

We stumbled upon some sort of summer festival- there were all sorts of booths, radio stations, puppet shows, a woodworker, and of course, an Airstream selling crepes! I don't need to remind you how I've fantasized about this sort of thing. Can you imagine roaming the countryside in your crepe mobile, sharing the joys of Nutella with everyone you meet? Delightful.

This lady was selling "Lebkuchen" which Eric tells me means "Life Cakes". It's gingerbread decorated with little love notes and strung onto ribbons so you can hang them as decoration or gobble them up.

I also quite liked how this pretzel man had managed to match his tablecloth, napkins and shirt! Very dapper indeed. Gingham seems just right for the humble pretzel, wouldn't you agree?

Have you been on any picnics this summer? What about street fairs? I love the fluff of bright pink cotton candy or an icy snow cone on a hot summer day.

Cruising the Amalfi Coast

One of the highlights of our trip so far was a scooter ride along the Amalfi coast. I felt like we were in a James Bond chase scene as we zipped along the winding roads high above the ocean with the sun overhead and a mile of sheer sandstone cliff face just beyond my elbow. Italian drivers are quite nonchalant about creating their own passing lanes- in the center of the road! Eric has been practicing his motoring skills since we first arrived in Hawaii, first on the Vespa and recently graduating to the Rebel. Although he handled all those steep mountain roads with style, I felt a buzzing tingle of energy in my stomach, arms and hands underlying every hairpin turn.

I held to him tightly and used each powerful surge of fear to practice trusting him and letting go of my inhibitions. This helped turn the fear into an exhilaration I haven’ t felt in a long time. It was a thrill to be alive and present for something so simple and so extraordinary. And it was nice to remember that being a little frightened, acknowledging that fear, finding center and plunging in anyway can make an experience richer and more precious. There are thousands of details about this trip I’ve already forgotten, but I won’t forget what it felt like to wrap my arms around my husband, let go of my fear and peer out at the vast blue expanse of sky meeting glittering water.

Here’s to fewer souveniers and more experiences.