Newport Getaway

July 17, 2019July 17, 2019 / Bookishevy / 2 Comments

Okay, I realize Memorial Day was a month and a half ago and I promised to do better with posting more regularly but guys, social work is tiring. All I want to do on the weekends is lie in bed and binge on Netflix. When I went to Newport, Rhode Island for a night I had every intention of posting about my experience within a couple days. Truth be told, I have been working on this short post since we got back to New York. I kept loosing focus, so finally last weekend I committed to finishing and posting why I think Newport is great for a quick beach getaway.

I just want to start off by saying I love New York City, especially in the summer. So much more to do. But sometimes I get the urge to flee because it can be overwhelming. I work in Manhattan all week and most weekends I do not go to the city. I retreat to East Flatbush, Brooklyn or Wakefield, Bronx to recharge before Monday. Every now and then, though, I crave a getaway from NYC or the state altogether. Just one night away sometimes does it.

For those of you who do not know, I grew up in rural Trinidad in a village called La Brea. La Brea is Spanish for “the tar.” The village is named for its Pitch Lake, the world’s largest natural deposit of asphalt. I lived about a 15 minute walk from there and a five minute walk from the beach. I say all this to say that I gravitate toward villages and beach towns. So when Hildon and I were deciding on where to go for Memorial Day, Newport was a nobrainer.

We did not have a plan. I spoke to a coworker who told me I had to do the Cliff Walk if I do only one thing while there. We also read a few articles and found out that Newport is a food lover’s dream, so our whole stay there revolved around where to eat.

We got to Newport around 9:30am and were famished. We couldn’t check into our hotel until 3pm so we went straight to the Corner Cafe. It is a cozy cafe with an extensive menu and friendly staff. The hostess is from Ireland and we discussed the Celtic spelling of my name (Siobhan). We ended up sitting at the bar. It was Sunday and it is a popular spot for brunch. We were too hungry to wait longer for a table. We had “The Beast.” The portions are generous and the home fries were probably the best I have ever had.

After eating like a lumberjack I was ready to tackle the Cliff Walk.

The Cliff Walk is a 3.5 mile public access walkway along Newport’s eastern shore. The weather was perfect at 75 degrees and the cool ocean breeze made the sun bearable. What I like most about the walk is that it is a combination of nature and architecture, because there are over 60 mansions along the cliff. The views are spectacular but I must warn you that some parts of the walk are treacherous. Please wear comfortable shoes. There are restrooms along the way but there is a bit of a wait. We were on the walk for 4 hours because we stopped to take pics (of ourselves and other people) and Hildon took a chance and flew his drone to get better shots of the coast.

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After all that walking we drove into town to Thames Street. That is where all the shops are so all the tourists flock there and that day was no exception. The place was crowded and the parking situation was horrendous. It was Memorial Weekend after all. We did not leave crowded NYC to dodge people in Newport. I jumped out of the car at Del’s frozen lemonade, a must when in Newport, and told Hildon to circle the block and pick me up. We sipped as we headed to our hotel to check in and shower before dinner.

We stayed at a Holiday Inn off the island. Hotels in Newport on a holiday weekend can get expensive and honestly I needed to get away from the crowds at night. There used to be a time when we turned our noses up at Holiday Inns, opting for more expensive accommodations. Lately, we have come to realize that staying in posh hotels are a waste of money when we spend most of our time exploring. After check-in we showered, dressed and hit the town for dinner.

We had dinner at Clarke Cooke House at Bannister’s Wharf. The place was packed. Thankfully we made reservations and were seated within half an hour. The waiters, dressed in white jackets and black ties, are so attentive. The food is on the expensive side and we mulled over the menu for a bit before Randy, a handsome man from Montego Bay, suggested the deboned half chicken with roasted potatoes, sauteed corn and an arugula and apple salad. It did not disappoint. Randy even took a pic of us to remember the occasion.

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After dinner we walked about the wharf and people watched. All the bars were brimming with rowdy revelers, but we were so tired we looked at each and said “Screw that” and went back to the telly.

We slept in. This was my first stay at a Holiday Inn and I have to say I had one of my best sleeps in a hotel. The bed was so comfortable that I made a note to see what mattress brand they use: Simmons Beautyrest. The Holiday Inn offers free breakfast but we had other plans. After checking out we headed back to the island and had brunch at Belle’s Cafe. We got there at 12:30pm and the line was long. We decided on what to eat on the restaurant’s website while the sun beat down on us. At Belle’s you have to order and wait for your buzzer to vibrate to pick up your food. There is seating indoor and outdoor on the pier. We chose the latter and enjoyed the view of the mariner as we ate our crabcake eggs Benedict and Texas french toast.

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It was worth the wait. After brunch we took a short walk along the mariner then started home to avoid traffic.

TIP: Staying off the island is cheaper, but there is a toll to go over Pell Bridge. It costs $2 an axle ($4 round trip) if you are not a Rhode Island resident. It is cheaper with an EZ Pass. I paid a little over $2 for each trip and we went across that bridge six times.

I hope you enjoyed my short, long overdue post. I know what you’re thinking: Took her a month and half to write THIS? Look, social work is kicking my ass but recharging is helping. And I am not making any promises about doing better, because honestly I am doing the best I can. I work full time. I get out often enough, but I write notes all day so all I want to do on the weekend is chill and not look at a computer screen. Thanks for sticking around!

Habana, Habana!

December 29, 2018January 2, 2019 / Bookishevy / 6 Comments

So I went to Cuba, and I am still having trouble believing it was not all a dream. Every now and then I would turn to Hildon and ask “Did we really go to Cuba, or…?” And he would turn to me and say, “….for the last time, woman. Yes, we went to Cuba and it was epic.” Damn straight we did! Cuba has been at the top of our bucket list for so long that we did not ever think it would become a reality. Then some things happened that made it all possible (read: easier). I don’t want to get all political so let’s dive right in.

Getting There

We booked our flights on the Jet Blue website. There is a special page dedicated to Cuba. It was so easy and during the booking process they ask you to pick from about 12 categories to let them know why you want to visit Cuba. We picked “support of the Cuban people” because we intended to stay in a local’s home (casa particulars) and eat at paladares, which are restaurants that are owned by locals. I just want to add that getting to Cuba was easy AF. You just purchase the visas ($50 each) at the JetBlue Ask Desk near your departing gate. You have to get the visas at the gate from which you are departing the US. We connected in Fort Lauderdale so we had to buy the visas there. All you need is your passport, boarding pass, and a debit/credit card. They do not take cash. We thought US citizens would have to fill out additional paperwork while on the plane, but it was the same paperwork as everyone else. When you arrive in Havana, do no take a yellow taxi. These are government run and can be expensive as many of the drivers take longer routes to run up the meter. Ask your casa particular hosts to have a car pick you up. Depending on where you stay, it could be around $20-$35.

Where we stayed

We spent seven peaceful nights at Casa Mokongo, which we reserved on Airbnb. Our casa particular was in the Vedado district of Havana, which is about a 15 minute ride from Central Havana. When we first got there, we were a bit concerned about being away from all the action, but after spending a couple days sightseeing in Old and Central Havana, we were thankful to have a quiet neighborhood to retreat to and relax before another day of adventure. A lot of the casas in the city are in questionable neighborhoods, so if you want to stay in the city I suggest you do a lot of research about the surrounding areas if you’re finicky about location. After walking about our hood we gained an appreciation for it. We were right around the corner from John Lennon Park, which Fidel named after the slain Beatle because he admired his revolutionary spirit.

Our hosts Carlos and Hermina were very nice and made us a breakfast of toast, deliciously cheesy eggs, fruit and coffee whenever we asked for it for a fee of 5CUC. Cuban coffee is delicious. First time I drank coffee without milk and it did not taste like a cup of cigarette ash. The Hermina even made Hildon dried toast and tea one night when he got stomach trouble from eating chicken on the beach (DO NOT EAT CHICKEN ON THE BEACH. Matter of fact, try to avoid chicken altogether). Carlos offered to call us cabs whenever we had to go anywhere out of Havana. Very sweet and helpful couple.

Below are shots of Mokongo and Vedado.

A view of the sea from the rooftop.

John Lennon Park

Saturdays in Vedado is market day. Vendors come to sell locals produce.

Transportation

The best way to get around is by collectivo taxis. You’re basically sharing the cabs with locals. If you are from the Caribbean like us and live in East Flatbush, Brooklyn like me, you should already be familiar with this set-up. Lots of locals get around this way. On any given day or night you would see locals on the side of the streets flagging down taxis and we joined their ranks and tried to fit in as best we could, but drivers always knew we were tourists and some of them would try to jack up the prices on us. Before you get into any taxi please haggle, because they will shaft you if you give them the chance. DO NOT ask cabbies how much. They will quote you an insane price for a five minute drop. Tell them what you will pay and if they give you a hard time walk away and say you will find someone for that price. Often times they would come around because they are not getting jobs. My haggling game was A1 by the time I left Cuba.

The money in Cuba is a bit confusing. They have two types of currencies: Cuban Peso (CUP) for the locals and Cuban Convertible Peso (CUC) for tourists. Usually, it’s 25 CUP for 1 CUC. I suggest you change some of your money to CUP to pay cabbies or buy food at small paladars where many locals eat.

Where to eat

I want to start by saying that Cuba has not been well-known for its fine cuisine for some time now due to lack of food. However, Raul Castro made it possible for locals to run private businesses, which is why many locals are now able to open their homes to tourists as places to stay and eat for ridiculously cheap prices. Mokongo was $30 a night and food at paladares usually started at around 5CUC.

Café Laurent

This is one of the nicest paladares at which you will ever eat. It is located on the top floor of an apartment building in Vedado (many paladres are in apartment buildings). Laurent is not as cheap as the other paladares. Hildon and I came upon it on our first day in Havana. We were walking around our neighborhood and we were hungry so we indulged. I had ropa vieja, my first of a few in Cuba, and Hildon had chicken breast stuffed with cheese and ham. It was delicious and the place is nicely designed.

Everything on this plate was delicious.

Van Van

One of the best restaurants in Havana. The food and drinks are cheap and so delicious. Please try the daiquiris. Of course we had the ropa vieja, we are creatures of habit. LOL! The place is cozy and the decor is cool. Even the bathroom is cool. And they have live entertainment.

La Isla de la Pasta

This is an Italian restaurant in Vedado, just up the street from where we stayed. We had the tomato basil mozzarella salad, followed by pasta bolegnese and carbonara with daiquiris. The tiramisu is great to. This place is affordable and cozy and the staff is friendly and welcoming.

The portions are generous too.

El Vampirito

The pizza here is so good. One night we were hanging out and drinking rum with the two other guests at Mokongo. They were a young couple from Holland. I got hungry so Hildon and the guy made a late night run to this place. I’m sorry I don’t have a pic of my Hawaiian pizza. It smelled so good I just dove right in. But anytime we walked by this place there was a crowd of locals outside. It seemed like the local hangout spot near our block in Vedado, and after eating the pizza I see why. They also deliver. So if you stay in Vedado and are too lazy to get out, just order.

Atelier

Another great paladar in Vedado. Carlos told us about this place and this is how: “Obama ate there.” SOLD! We ate our last dinner here and I am so glad we saved it, because I had one of the best salads of my life here. It was the coastal salad and it had warm chunks of lobster and octopus with juicy shrimp. We followed that with filet mignon, which was served with delicious smokey beans and white rice (16 CUC each). The daiquiris here are good too. The atmosphere is romantic, in terms of lighting. It’s a great place for a date night.

The filet mignon was very good.

Honorable Mention

El Floridita and La Bodeguita Del Medio

Both Ernest Hemingway hangouts. The former is well-known for its daiquiris, although Hildon would argue that Van Van’s is better. I tried not to get pulled into Floridita because it is always crowded by tourists. But one day we were walking by and heard live music and decided to take a peak. We were lucky to get stools at the counter and ordered two daiquiris. They were delish and exactly what was needed on that hot day.

La Bodeguita is famous for its mojitos. The first time we walked by there we could not even get in the door, because there was no room. People were spilling out of the place. I believe it was a Friday. The following Tuesday we got lucky. The mojitos are great. A mojito was always my go-to cocktail so I was excited to have Havana’s take on it because that’s its birthplace. But I gained a new appreciation for the daiquiri, a drink named after a beach in Cuba.

And please try the ice cream. I love Cuban ice cream because it’s not as sweet as the ice cream in the US. And Cubans love ice cream too. In Vedado, there is a popular ice cream shop called Coppelia where you can find many locals waiting in ridiculously long lines. There are even guards who act like bouncers. No one gets in unless someone comes out. Hildon and I got in that line one night and we stood there for 20 minutes. The line did not budge.

As much as I wanted to try the ice cream, I did not think it was worth all that waiting, especially since there are other ice cream shops. Every where I looked Cubans were eating ice cream. I have never seen so many grown men eat ice cream cones in my life. Even cabbies ate ice cream while they drove. So if you see an ice cream shop, please indulge.

Things to see and do

The Malecon

Locals hang here. We walked along it on most days we were in Havana. We even drank rum and watched the sun set.

Take a tour in a classic car

For 40 CUC our tour guide took to Callejon de Hamel, a colorful alley in Central Havana that is dedicated to Afro Cubans and their art and religion.

Hotel Nacional, a historic hotel in Vedado with breathtaking views of the water.

And Plaza de la Revolución.

Puff on cigars

Just do it! You can’t come to Cuba and not puff on Cubans.

Visit Habana Vieja, where you will find

Catedral de San Cristobal in Plaza de la Catedral

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Plaza de Armas with the statue of Carlos Manuel de Cespedes and the famous ceiba tree next to El Templete. El Templete was built in 1827 to commemorate the first mass of San Cristobal de La Habana, which took place on November 16th, 1519. When we first saw the the temple, it was November 16th (its 499th anniversary) so naturally there was a long line of people waiting to get in and circle the ceiba tree to make a wish. Ceiba trees are considered sacred for many religions like the Yoruba, for instance. I refused to wait in that line, but I was able to take the below photos a few days later.

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Castillo de la Real Fuerza, a bastion fort just across from Armas

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Plaza Vieja

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And Plaza de San Francisco

Visit El Capitolio, the capital building just on the broader of Old and Central Havana

Experience Calle Obispo

This is a narrow roadway connecting Plaza de Armas with Central Havana. It’s busy with hotels, museums, restaurants, shops and street entertainmers. El Floridita is just to the top of the street, so start there and work your way down to the Plaza.

Take the Havana Tunnel

This tunnel connects Old Havana with the east. You have to take this tunnel to visit Faro Castillo del Morro or, as the locals call it, El Morro, a 16th century fortress guarding Havana Bay

Local boys playing baseball in the fortress.

Hildon enjoying a refreshing daiquiri across from El Morro

Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabana, known as La Cabana, an 18th century fortress

Cristo de la Habana, a 20 foot, 320 ton statue of Jesus carved out of Carrara marble by Cuban sculpture Jilma Madera that overlooks Havana Bay from the suburb of Casablanca

A view of Havana Harbor from Casablanca.

And Che Guevara’s residence is located across the street from the statue.

Go to the beach

Cuba has gorgeous waters. We spent a few hours at Santa Maria del Mar. The waters were rough but clear. The food left much to desire. As I said before, Hildon got sick after eating the chicken on the beach. We got back and went to dinner and he did not touch his food. I ate both plates. When we got home that night he had a fever. I prayed, “Lawd, please don’t let me have to go to Cuban ER!” Nothing against Cuba. I know they have great medical. Some of the best in the world. I just did not come all that way to go to the hospital. Seriously though, I was worried. As much as I hate emergency rooms, I wanted to take him but Hildon was not too keen on going. I put all the blankets on top of him and he sweated it out within a couple hours after he drank the tea Hermina made for him. He asked me how come I didn’t get sick. I only ate the chicken skin because that’s where the little bit of flavor was. Then I put hotsauce on it, which actually made it worse. I said hell nah! The sauce tasted so bad I had to flip the bottle to see where it was made. I gently placed the rest of my chicken in the mouth of a stray. Hildon ate half his chicken because he was hungry. His stomach was not the same for the rest of the trip. DON’T EAT THE CHICKEN ON THE BEACH! We had fun riding (fighting) the waves though.

Take a day trip to Vinales.

Vinales is a beautiful valley two and a half hours away from Havana said to be Fidel Castro’s favorite place in Cuba. We took a horseback riding tour by Yunietxi, which we booked on Airbnb for $98, minus the cost of food. We visited the Cueva del Indio, where we took a boat through the caves. It costs 5CUC to get in, which is also not included in the price of the trip.

A tobacco farm, where we learned about how the best tobacco becomes the best cigars in the world, puffed on freshly rolled cigars, and sipped on Cuban coffee spiked with Cuban rum with Benito, the owner of the plantation.

We then got on our horses and rode through Mogotes Valley to another farm, where we drank cane juice with lime and rum.

Literally, “Oh shit!”

After which we stopped for pics in front of the Prehistoric Mural, which is located on the side of the Mogote Pita. It was designed in 1961 by Leovigildo González Morillo, a student of Mexican artist Diego Rivera. It is 120m long and took four years to complete.

And ended our tour with a late lunch at Balcon Valle overlooking the valley. The views are stunning.

This was easily by favorite experience in Cuba.

Visit Museums

We visited Museo de la Revolución, which is located in Old Havana and is housed in what used to be the Presidential Palace. We learned all about the three revolutionaries: Che Guevara, Camilo Cienfuegos and of course Fidel.

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This guitar belonged to Coco Peredo, a Bolivian revolutionary who fought alongside Che.

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Camilo and Che and their signature hats.

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Three revolutionaries!

Behind the museum is Pabellón Granma, a memorial to the yacht that carried Fidel Castro and other revolutionaries from Tuxpán, Mexico, to Cuba in December 1956 to launch the Revolution. The yacht is surrounded by some of the vehicles and weapons used in their battles against Batista and during the failed Bay of Pigs invasion by the CIA.

The infamous yacht is kept behind glass.

We also took a tour of Gran Teatro de La Habana Alicia Alonso. Originally, it was the Tacon Theater and it was world renowned for its elegance. It has gone through some refurbishments during the years and as the name suggests, it is named for Cuban Prima Ballerina Alicia Alonso, who at 19 went partially blind but still managed to go on and become one of the greatest ballerinas. And at 97 she still choreographs for Ballet Nacional de Cuba, which is housed in the theater. Along with theaters, the building is also comprised of concert halls, rehearsal halls and conference rooms. President Obama gave his speech there when he visited in 2016. During the tour we were able to watch opera singers rehearse for their upcoming shows. Their are shows during the weekend.

This was cool.

Statue of Alicia

The above paintings indicated that Cuba is much more progressive than I was led to believe. I was pleasantly surprised

Alicia at 75, during one of her last performances

Alicia’s slippers.

We also stopped by Museo del Ron Habana Club. Admittedly, we went there for rum, but we stayed for the entertainment.

Stroll down Paseo de Prado

Paseo de Prado is a beautiful and historic palm tree lined boulevard that dates back to 1772. On this boulevard you will find the hotels Inglaterra and Sevilla, El Capitolio, Parque de Central, Gran Teatro de La Habana Alicia Alonso and so much more. Just walk about and take in the scenery and the sounds.

Enjoy the Nightlife….if you have the energy.

We went to Havana expecting to go to a club every night. I packed an outfit for EVERY. NIGHT. But after all that walking during the day we could NOT. However, we made an exception on Saturday when we went to La Fabrica de Arte Cubano. If you have to spend one night out, I suggest FAC. It used to be a cooking oil factory, now it houses all things arte. Fashion, paintings, sculptures, music, theater, dance, architecture, food and drink. We had 20oz mojitos that we nursed all night as we took in the vibe. Damn near all of Cuba was there that night. The lines bent around corners. The place was packed with mostly locals. Best of all, it’s only 2 CUC to get in. It is huge and every room has something different to offer. In one room there was visual art, another industrial design, another graphic design, another a mini concert, another a dance floor, another a photography exhibit by Argentine artist Enrique Rottenberg, who has been living in Cuba since 1993. I could go on and on about what there is to see in FAC, but it seemed endless. It reminded me a lot of Brooklyn with the way the factory was repurposed for the sake of art. It displayed an edgier side of Havana. If you are an art enthusiast, I suggest you check it out.

I’ve included some of Mr. Rottenberg’s work below. Many of his works feature nude people, including a nude portrait of himself. I am not including those. But all of his pieces are provocative, to say the least.

And he also has portraits giving a glimpse into the rooms in homes in Havana.

They were my favorite because I can’t tell you how many time while sightseeing in Havana that I’d wondered what was going on behind the walls of those homes. Rottenberg gave me a much appreciated peek.

Or you can just walk around Havana and take it all in.

Because you never know what you will run into in Havana. Our second night there we were about to walk on the Malecon but learned it was closed because of a party. We went and learned that it was a music video shoot for a Colombian band.

Tips and things to expect

The people

Friendly, but more intrigued, I would say. They are especially interested in American tourists, since this is something they are still getting acquainted with. We would be walking and then hear a group of locals screaming “AMERICAN!” If you are a black American you will be approached by Afro Cubans. One of them in particular spoke to us about race relations in Cuba and the fact that it is more covert and that the white Cubans get more opportunities for growth. He explained that when he was an English teacher he did not make much, so now he works per diem as a translator for tours and random tourists. For the most part, we were met with excitement from Afro Cubans and for two reasons. Some of them told us they like seeing blacks from other countries to learn about their experiences, since many Cubans are unable to travel abroad. Others appeared to be too helpful, offering to do things for us that we can do for ourselves and then they ask for money. I’m used to people asking for money, because on the subway in NYC it is almost an every day occurrence. Cubans have a different approach though. They would say things like “my daughter needs a birthday cake” or “my baby or grandchild needs milk.” We heard the latter so much we were beginning to think it was code for something. I kept CUP with me in case that happened and just gave them one or two pesos if I had it on me. Everyone who was asking for money looked like me. And I get to thinking, damn no matter where we go black people are the ones struggling the most. And they are coming to us because they figure as blacks we are more likely to help, and we did the best we could, as I felt we should. But all the while, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking they are looking at us as just AMERICANS when we are BLACK Americans, but when we get back to the US WE are the disenfranchised. But I consider myself fortunate to have the freedom of travel and so I still helped a brotha or sista out if/when I could. Despite the fact that many Cubans are struggling, crime is low. I felt safe walking through the streets of Havana at all hours of the night. At no point did I feel like I was in danger.

Hildon and Rafael, a friendly local.

Money

As I said earlier in the post, the money situation takes a while to get used to in Cuba because of the dual currency. Please bring enough money with you for your trip. It would even be wise to bring much more than what you think you will need, because sometimes things come up. After our third day in Havana, Hildon and I realized that we might run out of money, so we had relatives send us money via Western Union, because as Americans we were unable to withdraw money or use our cards in Cuba. Before we took our trip, we were advised to change our US to Euros in order to get a good exchange rate in Cuba due to people changing US being charged an extra 10% tax. But you have to pay a fee when changing to Euros too. Either way, you lose money. We realized that Western Union did not charge us much to get the money. For every $200 we paid $6. I say all that to say this: maybe you will come out better if you send yourself money from the US to Havana. You end up with more money that way. The only thing you need is your hosts name and ID card number when sending the money and your host will go with you to WU to get the money the way Carlos accompanied Hildon. Just a suggestion

The Food

Was okay for the most part. Cubans do not use a lot of spices, so if you like your food with a lot of….taste, I suggest you bring some hot sauce with you….and a couple bottles of Pepto. Thank me later.

Internet (or lack thereof)

Our casa had internet, though it was not the best. I was grateful to our hosts for providing us with the password to somebody’s wifi. 👀 Internet is a struggle in Cuba. Sometimes we would be walking around Habana or Vedado and see a group of locals huddled in one area with their eyes glued to their phones and it would hit us that it was a hotspot. Of course it never lasts, but they are grateful for every bit of access. Although it was odd to not be able to post all that I was seeing in Habana on social media in real time, not having internet access allowed me to be more present in my experiences. Side note: I read an article a couple weeks ago that stated Cuba now has 3G.

The Facilities

Some Cuban establishments have restrooms but do not have seats on the toilets or toilet paper…or soap. We ate at a couple restaurants where we had to pay for toilet paper and soap to wash our hands after. Those restaurants are not listed above. LOL! Please walk with tissue and soap/hand sanitizer and pray you don’t have to do a number two. DON’T HAVE CHICKEN! I cannot stress this enough.

If you plan on going to Cuba, please do so with an open mind. Cubans don’t make a lot of money and they are working with what they have and what they can afford or have access to. Yes, with the old cars and buildings it can feel like it is frozen in time.

Hello, motorcycle with sidecar!

But once you stop romanticizing Cuba and take it for what it is, a beautiful place with so much culture and friendly people, you will enjoy your visit.

Easter In St. Lucia

June 20, 2018June 20, 2018 / Bookishevy / 11 Comments

When Hildon told me his cousin was getting married in St. Lucia on Holy Saturday, I was ecstatic. I heard so many great things about the beauty of St. Lucia. I could not wait to go and see for myself and be able to tell my own story. The first thing you notice about St. Lucia during your drive from the international airport, which can be quite a haul if you are heading to Rodney Bay, is it’s many curves. The island was named after St. Lucia of Syracuse by the French, its first European settlers. It’s the only country in the world named after a woman. I would like to think the French were inspired by the many hills and valleys, which reminds one of the shapely body of a woman. However, legend has it that a group of French sailors who were shipwrecked on the island on 13^th December, 1502 named the island after the Virgin-Martyr, who was killed during the Great Persecution of Christians in the Roman Empire in 303 A.D.

Where we stayed

The lush vegetation covering the many hills of the island was a great distraction from the length of time it took us to get to our bed and breakfast. We stayed at Heritage House in Rodney Bay. I’m so glad we found that great four bedroom house to stay in. Although it is a five minute walk from all the action on the main strip, the neighborhood is quiet, except for the occasional barking dog. The house is beautiful. It does not have a pool, but I am not a pool person so it was just right for me. Besides, with it only being a three minute walk from Reduit Beach, you won’t miss the pool. The staff is friendly. We were greeted with homemade lemonade at the door by Nicole, a very young and sweet girl. They left treats for us on the kitchen counter and each room has its own compartment in the fridge. They also gave us towels for the beach. One note I must make is you have to let them know if you will or will not be down for breakfast the next morning. The breakfast was mainly meat filled pastries, but sometimes we got scrambled eggs and fried bake.

What we did

We started Maundy Thursday (the Thursday before Easter) at Rodney Bay Marina and ended it on Pigeon Island. The entrance fee for PI is around $7US. There are two beaches on the island and a couple of restaurants as well. Technically it is no longer an island, since in 1972 it was artificially connected to the western side of the mainland by a causeway. The hike up Fort Rodney was not as bad as I thought it would be. I learned that Fort Rodney was named after Royal Navy Admiral George Rodney when he took over Pigeon Island between 1779 and 1782. He used the higher peak Signal Hill to spy on the French Naval Base in the neighboring Martinique. We did not hike to Signal Hill because it is much steeper, but if you are up for a challenge I say go for it.

After that hike in the hot sun, a nice dip at one of the beaches was more than welcomed. We paid $9US for two beach chairs and an umbrella. The nice young men also provided us with beer at a reasonable price. And then a man pulled up on a boat selling fresh coconuts. It was a day well spent.

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Great food options on the beach.

Good Friday on the island is quiet. We went on a half day boat tour with the rest of the wedding guests. It was cloudy, but rain showers throughout the day did not stop the fun. The DJ played great soca and it made sense to spend the day out to sea since many of the shops and restaurants were closed for the holiday. They took us to the Pitons and then snorkeling.

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Our last stop was glamorous Marigot Bay, where celebrities go to hide from everyone else. When we were in the airport we saw a man holding up a sign saying “Jeff Bridges.” This is probably where he stayed.

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When we got back in from the cruise, we were famished and ended up eating at one of the few eateries that were open. I forgot the name, but it is tucked in a little corner in Rodney Bay behind Ultra Lounge. All the locals were eating there so we knew the food had to be good. We were not disappointed. It looked and smelled so amazing that I forgot to take pics of my plate.

Holy Saturday was wedding day, so we did not do much. I found a nearby nail salon to have my nail fixed because all that frolicking on the beach did a number on my pedicure. Then we hung out at Cockpit Restaurant & Bar at Harmony Suites. It is right around the corner from Heritage House.

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#WeddingFlow

By the way, if you even need a place to have an event, might I suggest Cap Estate? It’s beautiful!

On Easter Sunday we spent the day on Reduit Beach, the main beach. Spending Easter Sunday on the beach is a tradition for many locals.

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In St. Lucia, like many other Caribbean islands, Easter is celebrated on Monday since it falls on a Sunday. I had booked us on a full day boat tour prior to learning that we would be going on a cruise with the other guests on Good Friday. I am still glad I did. I heard that the best way to see the island was by boat, so I booked a 9 hour Tout Bagay Catamaran Day Tour with Sea Spray Cruises. Tout Bagay is creole for “everything” and they weren’t lying. This tour took us to Soufrier, a small town further south on the west side of St. Lucia. It was a long trip to Soufrier but the great crew of the catamaran gave us snacks and rum punch. We also saw some cool things along the way.

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Like Mount Gimie (above). This is actually St. Lucia’s highest peak. Lots of people think it looks like a face. I can kind of see it…

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…but I think this guy looks more like a face. I don’t know if he has a name, but can you see it?

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Jade Mountain Resort. It looks like a car garage or an unfinished building because the rooms only have three walls.

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And of course the Pitons, which we were able to get a better view of the second time around because the clouds weren’t low.

Once at Soufrier, we filed into mini buses that took us to some of the small town’s main attractions. The bus driver gave us a little history on Soufrière. For instance, Soufrier was the first capital of St. Lucia. Back then, there were large estates run by French plantation owners. The descendants of these owners still live in the area. During the French Revolution of 1789, many Royalists were executed, which resulted in the slaves being freed. However, when Napoleon seized power in the 1799 coup d’état he reintroduced slavery. The British invaded St Lucia shortly after, but the slaves and French deserters fought them in a guerrilla campaign until 1803 when they were defeated and St Lucia became a British colony. It is during that time Castries became the capital of St Lucia.

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Our first stop in Soufrière was Toraille Waterfall.

Then the Sulphur Springs, the world’s only drive-in volcano.

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We were then taken to Morne Coubaril Estate, one of the many 18th century cocoa estates. We were provided a traditional creole lunch at the lovely restaurant.

Look at all that delicious creole food. And we were allowed seconds.

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Then we were treated to coconut candy.

After lunch, we were given a tour of the cocoa plantation and a bit of history on how the slaves on the plantation lived.

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Above is a bar where male slaves went to drink. Women weren’t allowed there.

The rest of the plantation is gorgeous. Paradise even. Of course, if I was held here against my will I would not have the same views.

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I ate raw cocoa for the first time. Not bad.

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Got this great shot on the way to the port.

After our tour of Soufrier, we got back on the boat and pulled into Anse Cochon Beach or “the bay of pigs.” The water was clear and littered with what I thought were flowers, only to find out they were frigging jellyfish.

I looked at one of the crew members and said, “Of all the beaches to take us snorkeling, you pick one with jellyfish.”

One of the locals in a boat selling souvenirs told me not to worry, because the stings “aren’t that bad.” He then pointed to children swimming among the jellyfish with a smug look on his face, as if to say, “You gonna let these kids show you up?” So I went, and I got stung, and he was right. It was not that bad. More like a mosquito bite. The snorkeling there was great. Lots of fish. And the black sandy beach was beautiful.

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On our way back to the marina, we stopped at gorgeous Margot Bay.

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We learned that Nicholas Cage offered the owner of this little house (just above) $8 million for it and he or she declined. I would have too. That view is worth at least double that amount.

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Amazing!

During the last leg of the tour, we all drank and danced. It was so much fun.

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Hildon won a beer drinking contest. They say he didn’t win but he won.

We did the limbo and there was even a Congo line.

I recommend this tour. They were right. The best way to see St. Lucia is by boat. But be sure to eat breakfast before you go because drinking rum punch on an empty stomach on the sea is not a good look. LOL! If you are not a tour person and wish to go snorkeling on your own, I recommend going to Anse Chastanet (an hour and a half from Castries) or Anse Cochon (44 minutes from Castries). The waters are crystal clear.

Night Life

The main strip in Rodney Bay Village comes alive at night. The street is lined with restaurants, nightclubs and bars. We hung out at Coconuts Bar & Grill and Verve. Ultra Lounge was poppin too. The drinks were strong and the music is not bad, especially after those drinks. Verve and Coconuts are both across the street from each other. We ended up hanging at Coconuts the night of the wedding. We all went home and got freshened up after the reception. I did not get to Coconuts until around 1:30am and then the DJ said that the music was ending at 2. Steups! We Trinis were not pleased. But it was a great half an hour. It seemed like at 2 all the music on the strip suddenly stopped. The crowds from the bars and lounges flowed onto the street and we people watched and enjoyed the local vibe. Then the cops came and broke it up. LOL!

Where to eat

We ate mostly local while there. We had great creole food from food trucks. It was cheap and delicious. We also ate at KFC. If you’ve followed this blog for some time, you would know that I, like most Trinis, consider myself a KFC connoisseur. I make it a point to try local KFC wherever I go. The KFC in St. Lucia was very good. There was actually some heat to it. We ate there three times. I’m not ashamed. The locals seem to love it. There was always a line. I recommend.

On our last night, we ate at Delirius, which is also on the strip. We had the ribs and OMG it was like a mouth gasm. The meat was falling off the bone and melting in my mouth, and it came slathered in their house made Calypso sauce. Please have it.

It was the perfect end to a great vacation. St. Lucia is a stunning island and the people are friendly and always glad to help and offer advice, even when you didn’t ask for it. Like when we went to a cafe, that shall remain unnamed, in Rodney Bay Marina and I asked for a coffee with four creams and four sugars and the lady at the counter made a face and said with a hint of disgust, “FOUR sugars?” Yes, heifer!

Anyway, here are better views taken by Hildon’s drone.

72 Hours In Montréal

January 9, 2018January 10, 2018 / Bookishevy / 12 Comments

People always ask me, and by people I mean the four who read my blog, why it takes me so long to write a post after returning from a trip. My first reason is laziness. Something I hope to improve on in 2018. My other reason is that I put off writing posts for days on which I need to mentally escape. When I’m writing a post about my most recent trip it allows my mind to wander back to a more blissful time than last week. I desperately needed to escape last Thursday, especially, because as I stepped outside my Brooklyn apartment and into the North Pole, that real feel of 9 degrees, according to Loni Quinn, immediately gave me the urge to return to bed and call out sick. Then I remembered that this was just one of many days during which NYC will be in what Loni described as a “deep freeze, ” so I thought I might as well suck it up. The extra layer in the form of thermal leggings I had to fight and struggle to get my jeans over was no match for the wind chill. I stood at the bus stop with a brain freeze as snow flakes stung my face, cursing the MTA for 6 straight minutes, because, once again, the bus was behind schedule. And when it finally pulled up it was packed. Hardly anyone came out, and the 8 of us at the stop forced our way toward the back because people refused to follow the driver’s instructions of moving back to make room for newly boarded passengers. As I stood on that crowded bus with some woman’s pocketbook continuously poking me in the ribs, I closed my eyes and reminisced about a time, not too long ago, when I was nowhere near this fuckery.

I love October. It’s easily my favorite month of the year, because the weather is usually perfect. The air is crisp (God that’s cliché), the leaves are a mixture of green, gold and copper, and I get to wear my ankle boots and leather jackets (yes, I’m vain). As much as I love autumn in NYC, I needed to get away. Since Montréal had been on my bucket list forever, and I did not have to spend money on a flight to get there, I figured why not?

Road trip!
We left the Bronx on a Friday around 5:30am and got to our hotel around noon. The drive up was actually tolerable. Hildon drove most of the way while I deejayed – I dusted off my old CD collection and we jammed to some classic hip hop. It was a beautiful fall day and we enjoyed the changing colors of the foliage.

Accommodation
We stayed at Novotel in the city center. It’s a small hotel when compared to the Sheraton, which towered over us from across the street, but I was impressed. First, by the smell of the lobby. It reminded me of really expensive shampoo. Every time I entered the lobby I felt like I was in a high class salon. Secondly, by the friendly and helpful staff, and thirdly, by the spacious the room. The parking, however, was a bit pricey. They were charging $30 a day to park in their garage. I used the website bestparking.com to find cheaper parking nearby. We found one less than a block away that charged us $58 for the 3 days. The only caveat was that we couldn’t go and come as we pleased, which was fine because we intended to use public transportation using our 3 day Montréal pass that we purchased on expedia.com.

3-Day Passeport MTL
If you’re like me and you want to experience as much of a place while you’re there, get this pass. It grants you access to 23 Montreal attractions, including the The Montréal Museum of Fine Arts, Botanical Garden, Insectarium, and Biodome. What really sold me about the pass is that it doubles as a metro card. You just scan it and you can ride the trains and the buses. Granted, we were only able to visit 6 or 7 of the attractions, but it was still worth the money to me because it opens up so many possibilities. It gives you options. But if you manage your time just right you should be able to visit at least half of the attractions in 3 days and save a lot of money.

After dumping our bags in our room, we headed to Dorchester Square and Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral.

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Then walked to The Museum of Fine Arts, where I took in Jean Paul Gaultier’s “Love Is Love” exhibit. It’s a celebration of love in all forms.

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There was also a Western exhibit dedicated to the film genre. I love a good Western. It was a fun exhibit.

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And there were other pieces that caught my eyes as well.

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“The Embrace” by Picasso. He was 90 when he painted it.

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“Simeon the God Receiver” by Kehinde Wiley. Wiley is known for painting young, black men in heroic poses and was recently tapped to paint Obama’s official presidential portrait.

Just outside the museum has great pieces too.

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Chihuly’s “The Sun,” for instance.

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Sherbrooke Street is lined with all the flags of the world.

For dinner we had poutine. I mean you can’t go to Montréal and not have poutine. Poutine is French fries covered in cheese curds and gravy and it originates from Quebec. We just had to have this for our first meal in Montreal. We got dressed up and headed out. Luckily, we were staying just steps from a restaurant called Vladimir Poutine. I told Hildon, I don’t give a shit if it only has a 3.8 rating on Google. That name is hilarious.

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And so were the names of the dishes. I had the Fidel Poutine: lobster bisque, lobster meat, cheese, shrimp and scallops.

Hildon had the Vladimir Poutine: smoked meat, beet confit, crispy onions and Russian dressing.

He made the better choice.

The food was great – I haven’t had poutine anywhere else so take that with a grain of salt – the drinks were strong, and I learned it used to be a funeral parlor, which made sense.

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After dinner, we walked to Crescent Street, where all the action was (I did my research) and I was not disappointed. Bars and nightclubs lined the street. We were still undecided which bar to go into as we stood outside Thursday’s, from which T.I.’s “Whatever You Like” was blasting, when we saw a little Asian woman being escorted out, fully hammered. As I watched her friends struggle to get her limp legs to work, I turned to Hildon and said, “We’ve arrived.” Thursday’ s. Was. Lit. It was so nice to see people from all ages and backgrounds come together with the sole purpose of getting completely shit faced. And shit faced is what I was when we stumbled out of there at 3am.

Saturday
I woke up hungover and I needed something rich to soak up the liquor, so we got dressed and headed to Paris Crepe.

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Then we took the metro across town. We basically spent our entire Saturday at Maisonneuve Park, where the garden and insectarium are located, and Olympic Park, where we visited the Biodome and the Observatory Tower. Both parks are across the street from each other. Hildon and I are idlers, which is why we were only able to visit about a third of the attractions the MTL pass gave us access to. But it was a day well spent. Honestly, I don’t see how anyone would be able to breeze through these attractions, especially the Biodome, which allows you to walk through replicas of four ecosystems found in the Americas. I could have spent all day in the rain forest section alone. It was absolutely breathtaking.

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The botanical garden was beautiful. I couldn’t stop taking pics. I felt the need to capture everything. Then we moved on to the insectarium where I limited my camera use and focused on not feeling like I had spiders crawling all over me. It started out nice enough.

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Then this happened.

It smelled my fear.

The Observatory Tower was cool.

The Biodome was impressive.

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Seeing a lynx in person was worth all the walking.

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My feet were so sore when we returned to the hotel that evening. That’s what I get for wearing heeled boots to sightsee. But after a quick nap we got dressed and headed to Upstairs Bar & Grill. In terms of jazz, Montreal is to Canada what New Orleans is to the U.S. I heard great things about this restaurant and I learned that Norman Marshall Villeneuve would be performing on the 21st of October. I booked our table weeks in advance because Villeneuve is a Canadian jazz icon and a native of Montreal. Good thing I did, because people were being turned away at the door. The restaurant is in a cozy basement. We dined on steak, drank red wine, and enjoyed Villeneuve and his band. It was the perfect end to the perfect day.

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That’s Mr. Villeneuve, sitting second from the right, at his drums.

Sunday
All the locals we met suggested that we head to Mont Royal Park on Sunday. Even the waitress at Eggspectation in Old Montreal said it was the place to be on Sundays. But since we were already in Old Montreal, we headed to the Old Port, which stretches along the St. Lawrence River. Hildon flew his drone, something he had been dying to do all weekend, and I walked the entire length of the port and people watched. Lots to do here. There is a ferris wheel, zip lining, and other activities for kids. Hildon bought me a silver ring with amber stones at a souvenir booth and jokingly said, “Don’t worry. It’s not an engagement ring.” As if!

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We then headed to Notre Dame Basillica.

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I mean…

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After painfully tearing my eyes away from the Basillica, we took a bus to Mont Royal Park and hyked to the peak, with a stop at the chateau along the way to enjoy the view of Downtown Montréal from above.

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I was a frolicking fool.

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Hildon flew his drone and enjoyed the stares he got from passersby – some of whom stopped to ask questions – while I sat on the grass and rested my feet, because I don’t own a single comfortable pair of shoes, apparently. Mont Royal is huge. We thought we were done after taking pics of the cross, but on our way to the bus stop, we saw everyone heading further down the hill, so we followed the crowd. We found this whole other section of the park that looked like paradise.

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Hildon could not resist pulling his drone out again. We sat on the grass and inhaled the second hand smoke coming from the couple smoking weed behind us, then strolled around the pond and took it all in.

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Giving 90s R&B video realness. The bird was a nice touch.

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It was the best way to spend our Sunday afternoon. After a day of walking and hyking, we were too tired to go home and get dressed for a proper farewell dinner, so we just popped into Brasseur de Montréal for a quick bite and headed to the hotel to pack.

Monday
Monday morning we went shopping for souvenirs. We hit up the Underground City, a network in which buildings are connected by tunnels that are also integrated with the city’s underground transit system. It covers twelve square kilometers of Downtown Montréal. Technically, it’s more of an indoor city, since most of the access points are at ground level, but there are some businesses that are entirely underground. When we were there, the place was kind of dead. I understand that it is mostly used during Montréal’s brutal winters (it is definitely poppin’ right now), but it is still pretty cool. We only stopped at Eaton Center.

I was pressed for time, because Hildon was actually timing me and reminding me about traffic building up if we leave after noon, so I hurriedly bought chocolates at Jeff de Bruges – a must – and loaded up on soaps and lotions that were on sale at Yves Roche. We practically ran to our car in the garage and hit the road for what was a surpringly smooth trip back to the Bronx.

As the doors to the bus opened and the gust of freezing wind slapped my face, I silently wished that NYC had an underground city. It was back to reality as I carefully walked like a newborn giraffe so as not to fall on my way down to the train station.

I thoroughly enjoyed Montréal. We could not have picked a better weekend to visit. The weather was sublime at around 70 degrees, the people were warm, and the metro stations are unnaturally clean.

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Seriously?

Needless to say, I have every intention of returning to Montréal. I encourage you to visit, and not because it’s a cheaper alternative to Paris. Yes, you do get that European vibe without having to cross the Atlantic, but Montréal has its own charm and lots to offer.

Anyway, here is some drone footage from our trip. Enjoy!

I ♥ Aruba

October 18, 2017October 28, 2017 / Bookishevy / 8 Comments

Aruba is expensive as fuck. That was my thought when I hopped my ass on Expedia looking for all inclusive deals after seeing the commercial for this little island for the umpteenth time and deciding to call them on their bluff when they say, “One Happy Island.” I wanted to see exactly what makes Arubians so happy and I was willing to get there by any means necessary. That is, any means I could afford on a social worker’s paycheck. After seeing those vacation package prices it seemed like I had to do something I thought I would never do: check out Airbnb. I’d always heard horror stories from people who stayed in strangers’ homes and had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t for me. The realization that staying in someone else’s home may be the only way I could go to Aruba and still have money for food and entertainment is all it took to put things into perspective. But there was no way I was staying in some stranger’s home without backup, so 10 of us (4 couples and twin boys) headed to Aruba for a week of galavanting.

Where to stay
Merlot Villas is a small gated community in Noord. The villa had 4 master bedrooms (one of them being a suite) and a half bath. The owner of the property even threw in a 9 seater van for an extra fee and his associate, who greeted us when we arrived, provided the boys with play pens and a crib. The villa is s beautiful and comes with a pool, BBQ grill, and a laundry room. It even has a Sonos sound system that allowed us to blast soca throughout the house.

What to see
Eagle Beach
Absolutely gorgeous. We spent our first full day here. It’s easy to see how it got on the list of the world’s most beautiful beaches (it’s #3 by the way).

Pristine!

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We went on a 9 hour Aruba off road island tour with ABC Tours which took us to all the landmarks. We had to drive through Arikok Park so we rode in a 4×4 Land Rover, the only way to safely navigate the rough terrain. We poked fun of people who took their rental sedan and got stuck. The ride was hella bumpy but it was so much fun. Our tour guide Ray is quite knowledgeable and this was when I finally learned just what makes Aruba such a happy island.

1. Alcohol. I mean this is pretty self explanatory. We Trinis love liquor, so i completely understand why. Rum is life.

2. The economy is up 86% due to tourism.

3. Because of their great economy, Aruba’s unemployment rate is at 3%.

4. And their crime rate is only at 1%.

5. Health insurance for everyone. And everything is covered except for cosmetic surgery.

6. Their educational system is top notch. When you’re 6 you are mandated to learn Dutch. If you do not learn Dutch you will not proceed to the second grade, where you will learn English. In the 5th grade you learn Dutch, English and Spanish. By the 6th grade you learn Papiemento, the native tongue, which is a combination of Dutch, English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Creole (am I leaving anything out) . Papiemento is only spoken on four islands: Aruba, Bonaire, Curaçao, and Cape Verde. In high school you get to choose between German, Spanish, or French. After junior college you can migrate to another country to further your education. If you get a loan, you have five years after graduation to pay it off. They give you time to settle down. Or, you can make a case with the government to get a full scholarship that covers EVERYTHING.

7. The drinking water. According to the World Health Organization, Aruba has the best drinking water. Because their water is so tasty Arubians drink a lot of it and water has been proven to improve your mood.

8. Arubians stick together. I would not go so far as to say they don’t see color, but there is a one for all, all for one sentiment.

Here are some highlights from the tour.

Casibari Rock Formations, also known as Aruba’s Stonehenge.

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Ray! He’s the best.

California Light House

Gold Mill Ruins

The Quadirici Cave

Alto Vista Chapel

Natural Pool, a coastal swimming hole, was so crowded. My face just fell when I realized I had to wait for people to come out so I could go in. But when I got in I did not want to leave, so I understand.

They took us to two beaches:

Baby Beach
The water here is mostly shallow and the fish were abundant. I snorkeled for hours.

Here is a drone shot of Baby Beach

And another small beach. The name escapes me but there was a small jump off point.

We even made a surprise stop at a grotto not too far from the Gold Mills.

They gave us lunch. And I’m not talking a sandwich. A real meal at their own Waka Waka Adventure Cafe and Cantina.

Hello?

The day was well spent. We pretty much covered the entire island, which I believe is about 18 miles around according to Ray.

We took another shorter tour with Red Sails the following day. They took us out to a shipwreck. Now, when I booked this tour I was excited. I was like, “Yes, a shipwreck!” But when we pulled up to the wreckage of the SS Antilla, one of the Caribbean’s largest at almost 400 feet, I hesitated to get in that 60 foot deep blue water. It was freaky. And the captain of the catamaran did not help when he said to be careful with the current. It could carry you away if you’re not paying attention. But I said fuck it. I grabbed my life jacket and flippers and slid into the cold water. When I put my face under the water I was in awe. I just floated face down and stared at the wreckage. I stared at it for so long that my mind started playing tricks on me and I could have sworn I saw a shark emerge from the wreckage and make his was in my direction. But it turned out to be someone riding one of those under water jet thingies. When I raised my head up from the water I was almost under the catamaran. The captain wasn’t lying about the current. After snorkeling they treated us to greasy pastries stuffed with meat. My favorite kind of food. I took full advantage of the open bar and drank about 5 or 6 rum punches. I lost count. The DJ put on some great music and it was a fun ride back. I was three sheets to the wind by the time we pulled back into De Palm Pier. What a glorious Sunday. (My grandmother just rolled in her grave).

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This sad image directly above is the only one of the shipwreck we could save after our gopro files were corrupted. We are still working on retrieving the rest.

Where to eat
La Vista at Aruba Marriot
We went to a live carnival show here. For a flat fee of $59 we had access to the buffet and were treated to a beautiful show in which masqueraders showcased costumes from their carnival season. We had a great view as we dined. One of the masqueraders pulled me from our table and I was forced into a conga line, which turned out to be quite fun.

Zeerover

You cannot go to Aruba and not eat at Zeerover. At least that’s what the people of YouTube said. So I had to see what all the fuss was about. I was not disappointed. At this restaurant fishermen bring in fresh catches every hour. You simply place your order, take your number, sit and enjoy the scenery and someone will bring your food. We were lucky enough to have a great view of the sunset during dinner.

The Old Cunucu House
This restaurant is so cozy and inviting. I felt like I was having dinner in someone’s home. It was not near any of the other restaurants on the strip. It was on a back road in Noord. It was peaceful and quiet, except for our table. The lighting was soft on the veranda where we ate and laughed and got drunk…again. Or maybe I was still drunk from the shipwreck tour. I don’t remember. That entire Sunday was just one great drunken blur of rum and food that I should not be eating but fuck it I was on vacation.

Nightlife

We are not avid clubbers. We found a strip that was obviously put there for tourists. There are a lot of restaurants and clubs to choose from. We ended up at Senior Frog and had a decent time. When we got there there was hardly anyone there. But the place was getting lively when we decided to head out. The music was great, the drinks were better and we had a great time. We walked about the strip and walked pass a live performance at Hard Rock Cafe (extra touristy) then settled in at an outdoor dance floor because the DJ was playing reggae. I did not take a lot of pics.

Needless to say I love Aruba. The climate is amazing. It’s dry and very windy so you never feel uncomfortably hot. The people are warm and friendly. I went to Aruba thinking of it as just another Caribbean island to check off my list, but at the end of my six nights I did not want to leave. Seriously, I was googling houses for sale and social work jobs. Usually when I leave an island I’m thinking onto the next one. But with Aruba I knew I would return. Especially now that I know it can be done without breaking the bank.

Birthday Weekend In Atlantic City

February 25, 2017February 25, 2017 / Bookishevy / 4 Comments

I’ve always thought of Atlantic City as the poor man’s Las Vegas, so it made total sense for me to spend my birthday weekend there. Hildon and I headed to AC with his brother Dane and his wife Rita, who were celebrating their anniversary.

Atlantic City isn’t as big a deal now as it was when it was first incorporated in 1854. It’s first hotel, Belloe House, was actually built in 1853 when developers saw AC’s potential as a resort town because it’s shores were on the Atlantic. Right after it was incorporated The Camden and Atlantic Railroad began in 1854 to give people in Philly easy access to the town. In 1870, The Boardwalk was built as a way to keep sand out of hotels but then it was expanded when it’s popularity grew. In 1878 another train service, The Philadelphia and Atlantic Railway, began as a way to cater to the hordes of tourists coming to the city. But AC didn’t boom until the early 20th when many of the boarding houses along the boardwalk were replaced by lavish hotels, like the Ritz-Carlton, that boasted modern and luxurious amenities.

When the prohibition era hit in the 1920s, Atlantic City grew even more popular because a lot of officials would smuggle alcohol into the city. So many tourists would flock to the AC just to get a drink in the back rooms of nightclubs, restaurants, and other establishments. The city even called itself “The World’s Playground.” If you’ve ever seen Boardwalk Empire you would know that the man to see for illegal alcohol was politician/racketeer Enoch “Nucky” Johnson, portrayed by Steve Buscemi in the show. Nucky made fortune on kickbacks from alcohol, gambling, and prostitution. Atlantic City was the place adults went to play during this time.

The 30s through the 60s were the heyday for nightclub entertainment in AC. On the south side were the all white clubs, while blacks partied on the north side in their own entertainment district on Kentucky Avenue. Then there was Club Harlem and Paradise club, among others, that drew a mixture of black and white patrons with their live Jazz and R&B performances.

But after World War II AC started to decline like a lot of other older cities. Poverty levels soared and with that came a lot of crime. The decline of AC happened for multiple reasons. Firstly, cars became more available to Americans. When people depended on the railroads they would stay in AC for at least a week. When they got cars, they would go for a couple days and then leave instead of spending weeks. They had more freedom to go and come as they please. Then suburbs started popping up. A lot of men were returning from war and using their GI Bills to build homes. And these homes came with some of the luxuries of hotels, like air-conditioning and swimming pools. So people seemed less interested in going to the beach during the summer. They would just chill in their backyards. But the biggest factor that contributed to AC’s declining popularity was commercial airlines with their fast jets and cheap service to resorts in Miami and Bahamas.

Gambling was finally legalized in 1976 and in 1978 the first legal casino in the United States opened in AC. This helped with a lot of the poverty in urban areas. But as Atlantic City was declining, Las Vegas was just getting started, and by the late 70s Vegas was the preferred destination for gambling. Donald Trump (I hate that I have to mention him in this article) actually helped bring some popularity back to AC when he organized boxing matches to attract people to his casinos. Mike Tyson had most of his bouts in the 80s in AC. And this helped reestablish AC as a gambling destination. By the 90s AC was one of the most popular tourist destinations again.

However, Atlantic City still faces problems. Vegas was redeveloped and is now bigger and better than ever. Casinos have been opened in Connecticut and Philadelphia. Even Queens, NY has a casino. So a lot of people would rather go to their nearby casinos than drive more than a couple hours to AC. Then the recession hit and a lot of plans to build more resorts were abandoned. MGM International Resorts were set to build there but they backed out. And Super Storm Sandy didn’t help. AC was hit hard. The boardwalk was a total mess.

But I believe AC is due for a resurgence. There is still good stuff there. The Tanger Outlets are always fun. It was an unusual 65 degrees in February, so I spent my birthday walking around the mall. I did a little shopping. Very little, because, as I said before, I’m working poor. We stayed at the Sheraton, which is just a short walk from the outlets and other attractions. We headed to Carmine’s as soon as we were settled. It’s located at The Quarter in Tropicana. It was 10:30 at night and the place was popping. If you’re ever in AC please hit up Carmine’s. It’s a family-style Italian restaurant with delicious food and superb cocktails.

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Penne Alla Vodka and Chicken Parmigiana

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Blood Orange Margarita

The Quarter was live. After Carmine’s we walked across to Wet Willie’s and indulged in huge frozen drinks. I had the strawberry pina colada. We sipped near the fountain in the middle of The Quarter and watched people file in and out of Cuba Libre, a Latin American restaurant with cocktails and dancing. It looked like a good time, but I was stuffed and already tipsy, so I was content with standing outside, listening to the music, and watching women struggle to walk in five inch heels.

On the night of my birthday, we had dinner at Buddhakan on the pier, overlooking the water. This is another great restaurant. If you like Asian cuisine as much as I do, please check it out. It’s a Pan Asian restaurant, meaning it serves dishes from various Asian countries. It’s worth it just to see the huge, glowing Buddha statue in the middle of the restaurant and the ceiling decorated as the night’s sky. It’s dreamy and romantic. The menu is trendy. Try the oxtail dumplings. You only get three. LOL! But it’s good. And you can’t go wrong with the fiery rock shrimp on bao buns. I don’t have any pics for you. I’m sorry. I devoured my food the minute it hit the table. Hildon shamed me into taking a pic of my desert before I face planted into it.

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Chocolate Cheesecake Mouse

After stuffing our faces and taking goofy pics,

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Okay, I was the only goofy one.

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That’s better.

we headed to Caesars Palace and chilled in the lounge at Dusk Nightclub. We listened to hits from the 1990s and early 2000s and sipped on vodka cranberry, then Hennessy, because brown liquor always gets the job the done. At least for me.

Okay, so Atlantic City is no Vegas. Nowhere is like Vegas. But AC has a history. A resilience. And it’s had so many ups and downs in the past that it’s only natural for me to believe that it will be among the most popular tourist destinations again. Besides, AC has something Vegas doesn’t. The beach. It was its calling card in the mid-1800s and it’s its calling card now. It still wasn’t warm enough to go to the beach, but AC is great for a weekend getaway in any weather. But I do intend to hit up that boardwalk this summer. I encourage you to do the same.

By the way, I condensed what I learned about AC on Wikipedia. If you wish to know more, head here https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atlantic_City,_New_Jersey

Since Mexico…

August 24, 2016August 25, 2016 / Bookishevy / 2 Comments

I’ve been enjoying my summer. I thought it would be all downhill from my Playa del Carmen vacation, but I’ve managed to go places I never considered before. Hildon and I went to Philadelphia for a birthday party one Saturday and decided to explore this historical city the following Sunday morning. With only a maximum of three hours to spare before we hit the road before that notorious Sunday afternoon traffic on the 95 began, we Googled some of Philly’s must-sees. Our first stop was the Liberty Bell.

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A lot smaller than I imagined.

Then we headed over to Franklin Square.

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Then we walked what seemed like a mile to what slowly turned into a sketchier part of town to visit one my favorite authors, Edgar Allen Poe’s, home. We got there at half past 12 to find out that they were closed for lunch. They would reopen at one. Hildon needed something to drink and I told him that I think there is a bodega around the corner further down the block. He asked me how I knew that and I jokingly told him because we were in the hood and all hoods have bodegas. I was right. We took our time getting back and stopped to take some photos of a mural of Poe at the side of a building across the street from the museum.

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Two other people were waiting to enter the historic site when we returned. Once inside, we watched a short film on Poe’s life and explored the old house. Something about houses with a lot of history makes me at once uneasy and excited.

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The parlor. Spooky right?

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This scared the shit out of me.

If you’ve ever read Poe’s The Black Cat you would know why I thought whoever put that stuffed cat there (the cellar) is an asshole. If you haven’t read it, please do. You won’t regret it. We hurried back to the car and drove back to New York.

Speaking of New York, you want to hear something funny? While we were in Philly, I made fun of our friend Simone. She’s lived in Philly for years and has never been to see Liberty Bell. Meanwhile, I have never been to the Statue of Liberty. Granted, I enlisted in the Navy less than three months after migrating to Brooklyn. But I’ve been living here for five years since being discharged and two Thursdays ago was the first time I had ever been to Liberty Island. It was arguably the hottest day of the summer, but I refused to let the beads of sweat slowly making their way toward my ass crack dampen my mood. I was so excited. Then an older woman passed out from the heat as the ferry docked. I joined the choir of people screaming for a doctor. I stood still waiting, listening for someone to yell, “I’m a doctor,” but unlike in the movies when a physician would always miraculously appear, no one came. I stood there hoping she got the help she needed until we were herded off the ferry like cattle.

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I was in such awe of this large, green woman and what she represents. At times I stopped and stared at her in silence amid the sea of tourists. Those large cups in our hands are from the Bill’s Lemonade stand. It tastes homemade. If ever you’re on the island you have to try it. It made the heat somewhat bearable as we stood in the sun waiting on a ferry to take us back to lower Manhattan. Then we went to my favorite place in the city: The Highline. I try to go there at least once every summer.

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We finished off our day at my favorite pizza place. It never disappoints.

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The Bella Mia pizza at Don Giovanni.

It was a good day.

A Week In Riviera Maya

June 13, 2016January 2, 2019 / Bookishevy / 8 Comments

So, I went to Mexico. Always wanted to go, but every time I bring it up someone has to mention the frigging cartels. This time I ignored the negativity and booked the trip. Every one we told we were going to Playa del Carmen was all like, “Why not Cancun?” Well, because the Riviera Maya district has a lot more to see and do. If we were going to Mexico to party, we would have stayed in Cancun. But we went to see the Mayan Ruins and experience some of that Mexican culture, so Playa was perfect for us.

We stayed at the Catalonia Privileged Maroma.

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Now, we paid extra to be bumped up to “privileged,” which gave us access to all five restaurants. I mean it was convenient to be able to have breakfast and lunch at the restaurants near/on the beach instead of having to walk what felt like a quarter mile to the buffet near the lobby (the food on this resort is pretty good, by the way). But other than that I didn’t feel very privileged. Although, the room was nice, the staff was nicer, and the maids fashioned cute animals out of towels for us.

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But the view left much to be desired. This resort is in a forest so all we saw was bush when we stepped out on the balcony. We got one of the rooms that does not face other rooms, which turned out to be a good thing, because privacy. Another good thing about facing the trees is we got visitors.

It was fun until one of them pissed on our porch. Coatis are all over the resort. They are friendly creatures, so do not be afraid when accosted by one or an entire family of them.

The resort is a good size. I did a lot of walking, which is great because it is all-inclusive and I drank my weight in mojitos and took full advantage of the buffets. The pool was big enough so that I did not feel crowded when I went for a swim, and deep enough for the free scuba diving lessons being offered. The beach was amazing with the exception of seaweed on some days. I spent most of my time lounging with a book in one hand and a drink in the other.

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I had some of my best sleep on that chaise. The staff is friendly. The waiters kept the drinks coming. There were also activities for guests to participate in, including volleyball tournaments, synchronized swimming competitions, and dance aerobic classes. None of which I participated in, because I didn’t go all that way to exercise. But those who took part seemed to be having fun. Now, I have to tell you that if you are coming to Mexico to party, this is not the place for you. Downtown Playa del Carmen is 30 minutes away from the resort. If we wanted to be in the hustle and bustle of La Quinta Avenue we would have booked rooms around that area. But we did not leave the busy streets of NYC to deal with more pedestrians. If you are like us and just want to relax and sip cocktails, then Catalonia Privileged Maroma, or any of the nearby resorts, is for you.

But I didn’t go to Mexico just to look fabulous on the beach.

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As seen here. (Ah try ah ting!)

We came to Mexico to explore. We booked two combo tours at playadelcarmentours.com. The first one took us to Chichen Itza (pronounced chee-chen eet-za) and the cenote Ik Kil (say-no-tay eek-keel). We started off with Chichen Itza. It took a little over 2 hours to get there after they picked everyone up from the surrounding resorts. Let me tell you, I thought Trinidad was hot. The sun over Chichen Itza is a force. The umbrellas the tour guides gave us did not make a lick of difference. The heat was so unbearable that I could not even concentrate on what the guide was saying. By noon I did not give a damn about Mayan culture as the sun beat down on us. The guide wasn’t telling me shit I couldn’t read on Wikipedia. Most of us let our eyes roam about the grounds, silently wishing he would shut up. We just wanted to be set free so we could explore and take enough pictures of the ruins before we had to head back to the air conditioned bus.

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I look defeated in this pic don’t I?

That heat was brutal. I was drenched in sweat by the time I sat my tired ass back on that bus. If you’re heading to Chichen Itza please do not forget your sunscreen. Also, carry cash. There are hundreds of vendors there, all vying for your attention and their prices are reasonable. My pedometer said that I walked over fives miles that day. Chichen Itza was bigger than expected. It was quite impressive. But I could not WAIT to get to Ik Kil after burning up for hours. I have to admit that I was a bit scared at the thought of swimming in a pool that was over 60 feet deep. But after wandering around under that hot ass sun my body was ready for a dip in some cold spring water. However, we stopped for a bite to eat before heading to the cenote. We had lunch at Pueblo Maya, a Mexican/Latin restaurant. They had local cuisine and international cuisine. I went for the former, naturally, because I needed an authentic taco. We were treated to a show during lunch as well.

I was too busy stuffing my face so I only got the tail end of the performance. Also, right in front of the restaurant is a gift shop where you can purchase items made by modern day Mayans, including jewelry made from real Mexican silver.

Ik Kil is less than 10 minutes away from Chichen Itza. We had about an hour to change, shower quickly and climb down about 90 slippery steps to get to this cenote. All those photos of it in Google images did not compare to beholding it in person. And, like every other tourist attraction, there was a crowd and a wait to climb down the ladder into the water. Some brave souls climbed up the steps and dove head first. The line for the dive was a lot shorter, but I was okay with waiting because NO. Also,

Reminded me of Titanic.

We spent about 10 minutes in the water, which was not as cold as described to us. I was expecting pins and needles, but it was tolerable.

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I honestly did not want to get out. It felt so serene floating and looking up through the opening at the heavens and all the people staring down at us from above who were too chicken shit to get in the water. My arms and legs were tired from straddling. I was knocked out on that long ride back to the hotel.

It’s a good thing we booked the tours a day apart because I would not have been able to do them back to back after all that walking. A day of rest in between was needed. The day after, we did our second combo tour. This time to Tulum (too-loom) and Xel-Ha (shel-ha). I enjoyed Tulum more than Chichen Itza mostly because of its location. The ruins are located on a cliff facing the Caribbean Sea, and the breeze made the tour more bearable. I was actually able to learn something. For instance, Tulum was one of the last cities that was built and inhabited by the Mayans. It was also surrounded by a wall to protect its inhabitants from their enemies.

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El Castillo

I personally found Tulum more aesthetically pleasing than Chichen Itza because of the palm trees and flowers surrounding the ruins. It is more tropical. It is also crawling with iguanas, which I love.

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He didn’t move until after the pic was taken.

Sadly, the tide was too high for us to take a stroll on the beach. We were sprinting to the bus when this happened:

We were late getting to our seats, but I could not resist recording The Dance of the Flyers.

We spent the rest of the day, about 6 hours, in Xel-Ha, an aquatic-themed eco park just 8 miles south of Tulum.

This park is all inclusive with three buffet restaurants and open bars. I had my fill of guacamole and margaritas that day.

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Eighty percent of my vacation diet.

We pretty much covered the whole park. We swam among the fish, into a cave, watched OTHER people swim with dolphins, because I don’t trust dolphins. I’ll just leave it at that. They cute though. >__> We zip-lined a few times and floated down a lazy man river in a mangrove.

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Mosquitoes tore my ass up in that mangrove, but it was totally worth it. At the end of the day I was sunburned and my bottom lip had swollen from all the salt water, but I was happy. It was a day well spent.

I enjoyed our time in Riviera Maya. It’s a great district with lots to experience. I’m glad I was able to cross it off my bucket list. I hope you enjoyed reading about my vacation as much as I enjoyed writing about it, because the way my bank account is set up, you probably won’t be reading about my next holiday till next year.

Chasing Away Spirits in Trinidad

October 13, 2015October 14, 2015 / Bookishevy / 2 Comments

I don’t like scary movies. I especially avoid the ones having to do with spirits. I really want to see Crimson Peak because I love Guillermo del Toro, but the preview gave me chills. Plus Stephen King said it terrified him so I know for sure my nerves would be unable to deal with the content if the king of the horror genre couldn’t handle it. And it’s not because I’m just a coward. I mean I am a coward. I’m not ashamed to admit that. <_< But mostly because I have had experience with spirits. Coming from a small village in Trinidad, I have heard my share of scary stories about people’s encounters with the spirit world while growing up, but I always consoled myself by saying they’re just folk tales. One afternoon that all changed.

It was Saturday. I got home from first communion class to find everyone huddled around the kitchen table, which made me question why I had to be the only one of the cousins to be Catholic. My Saturdays were screwed for months. But I digress. They were all so quiet, something that is not synonymous with being a Trini — or a Richardson. I asked who died, then I heard my mother say, “He here.”

My mother looked the most serious I had ever seen her. Apparently my grandmother thought it was a good idea to hire an obeah man to get rid of a spirit in the house. Lately the floorboards had been creaking more frequently and keeping her awake. Back then I slept like a log and heard nothing, but my uncle convinced me it was just the wind blowing through a very old house. I accepted his explanation for years — even though it made no sense because where we lived was rarely windy. I just didn’t want to believe it was anything else.

A heavyset man and his wife, both of East Indian descent, cautiously made their way through our living room and into the kitchen. Their eyes took in everything as though they were contractors inspecting a house. The man spoke briefly to my grandmother and made his way to the kitchen table where we were all gathered.

“I doh want to be here for dis,” I said. “I going next door.”

“Nobody leavin dis house.” He glared at me as he said this, sternly.

“If anybody leave, and de spirit is in DAT person, I would do my ting and dey would come back WIT de spirit. And all dis woulda be for nothing.”

I grew tense. My mother thought I was just a skeptic, but I was actually scared out of my wits.

My cousins and I sat solemnly as the man mopped the entire house with a concoction his wife threw into a bucket of hot water. We just wanted to watch TV for fucks sakes. That was so not how I expected my Saturday evening to go. The man then drew a symbol behind my grandmother’s bedroom door, which led to the front porch.

Very similar to this.

He said it was to keep whoever it was from reentering. O_O He dug a hole at the bottom of the front steps, grounded heads of garlic into it, and buried it. After he lit a candle and put it on a plate at the bottom of the step, he rejoined us at the table and proceeded to pray over us.

He prayed for what seemed like an eternity. I sat there, bored as hell, and tried to repress my eyes from rolling. Suddenly the house began to shake. At first I thought it was my imagination. I thought maybe one of my nervous cousins was shaking a leg under the table. But the shaking became more pronounced. Everyone’s eyes shifted toward my grandmother’s bedroom. Something. Someone was frantically running around as if they were looking for a way out. Doors trembled. I trembled as I dug my nails into my mother’s thigh.

Then my grandmother’s bedroom door flung open. My aunt Elsa, someone I often thought to be fearless, gasped as her eyes widened in disbelief. She yelled, “LOOK!”

We rushed to the front porch and heard footsteps running down the stairs. My uncle hollered as the plate which held the candle split in half, as though it had been stepped on by whoever it was leaving the house. And they were gone. Everyone returned to the kitchen. We sat there, trying to make sense of what had transpired. My grandmother was the only one who looked unfazed. She never moved from her chair.

“Da is it,” the man said, matter-of-factly. He and his wife started packing up.

“What happen?” Elsa needed answers.

“Whoever it was wasn’t evil,” he said. “Dey didn’t mean no harm. Was just being a pest.”

My grandfather’s dead body was the only one that had ever been in the house since it was built decades ago. The obeah man said the spirit was definitely male, because he felt a great presence. There was a good chance it was him. So all of the times I felt someone tug at my clothes while I played with my toys on the floor of my grandmother’s bedroom; all those times I felt someone sit at the foot of my bed just as I was falling into a deep sleep, it could have been him. I never talked about those experiences because I believed talking about it would somehow make it real. By ignoring it I was able to restrict it to my mind and simply say I was just tired and feeling things.

No one complained about the house creaking after that evening. I guess he never came back. I migrated to New York City and joined the Navy soon afterwards. Ten years later, a few weeks after being honorably discharged, I was on my way to meet my boyfriend at his job so we could catch a movie. It was a beautiful April afternoon. The sun still shone brilliantly and the air was crisp. I window shopped on 5th Avenue with a goofy grin on my face. It was the first time in years that I felt free. As I strolled through the busy sidewalk, I felt a tug on the back of my jacket sleeve and turned around expecting to be greeted by an old friend, only to see jaded New Yorkers going about their business.

“Hi, hun.” My boyfriend snuck up behind me as I stared into the crowds. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” He was genuinely concerned. Guess I needed to work on my poker face.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” I never did.

Still, I fantasize about being able to watch a movie about wandering spirits without losing much sleep. But I know I won’t be able to do so without wondering if one of them followed me home.

Memories of Sicily

August 28, 2015June 15, 2016 / Bookishevy / 4 Comments

Music always calls up memories. There are times when a song comes on the radio while I am driving and I immediately leave the present. Songs remind me of friendships, places, even relationships — unfortunately. At the moment, I am sitting on my couch, reading a magazine while the television blares in the background. Suddenly a commercial for Perillo Italian Tours comes on. But I am not paying attention to what Steve Perillo is saying. The song he is playing on his piano reminds me of the many experiences I had while living in Sicily. It is “O mio babbino caro” by the great Italian composer Giacomo Puccini.

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This is not the first time that this particular song has transported me to the past. Every time I hear it, whether in a movie, a music video, or other commercials, I just relax and allow my mind to take me to an earlier time in my life.

Puccini composed many operas of which the most successful are La boheme, Tosca, Madama Butterfly, and Turandot. Some of his arias, such as “Che gelida manina” from La boheme, “Nessun dorma” from Turandot, and “O mio babbino caro” from Gianni Schicchi, are now a part of popular culture. Gianni Schicchi is a one-act comic opera Puccini composed to an Italian libretto by Giovacchino Forzano, and the third and final part of Puccini’s Il trittico (The Triptych). Il trittico was originally written to be presented together, but Puccini broke it up into three one-act operas. “O mio babbino caro” is an aria in which Lauretta begs her father Gianni Schicchi to allow her to marry Rinuccio, whose family Gianni despises. In the song, Lauretta threatens to jump into the Arno River in Florence if her love for Rinuccio is in vain. I never knew how dark the lyrics were until one of my Italian friends translated them for me. I failed to become fluent in Italian, so I always had an affinity for the instrumental versions of the song, particularly the piano solo.

As I listen to Steve Perillo play “O mio babbino caro” on his Steinway, memories of Sicily flood my mind. My feelings about that island are ambivalent, much like the aria that summons them. “O mio babbino caro” begins softly and slowly builds to a dramatic arc. Like my experiences in Sicily, it is at once relaxing and exciting. I think about my villa in Motta Sant’Anastasia, surrounded by olive trees, and its winding front staircase with grape vines wrapped around the banisters. My nearest neighbor was a hundred feet away and we were separated by many trees, which allowed me to enjoy complete tranquility on the weekends. I cherished those moments that came once I was settled, but after spending my first night in that villa I was tempted to call the broker and beg her to find me a more modern house. A storm took the lights out, and I had no candles. As I laid in bed with my laptop open to provide light, I thought I was going to die. I laugh at it now, but as the wind wailed and beat against my bedroom windows I imagined a wild beast climbing into the house, seeking refuge from the storm. Eventually my laptop died. I refused to fall asleep that night, and it showed the next morning as I dragged myself to work with eyes that screamed “HANGOVER!” Hoping to attract some sympathy from my coworkers, I was disappointed to learn that most of them went through the same ordeal. They told me to “suck it up.” “This is the norm in Sicily,” said one person. “Buy a lot of candles and wine,” suggested another. I did, and those stormy nights became a lot more bearable.

Listening to “O mio babbino caro” brings back so many memories that they become an orgy of thoughts, and I have to feel my way through the thick fog of experiences before my mind settles on just one. Amazingly, I miss everything that annoyed me about Sicily; even the driving. One wonderfully productive Saturday morning after cleaning the house, eating a hearty breakfast, and washing my car, I headed to the mall. I was in a great mood as I blasted by car radio with the windows down. Suddenly, traffic came to a halt. I figured it was just someone trying to parallel park on the narrow, two-lane road. Then I realized that no cars were coming from the opposite direction. Thinking there was an accident, I got out of the car to assess the situation only to see two drivers — one in each lane — having a conversation about God knows what. They were catching up on old times at everyone else’s expense. I was about to head over there and light a fire under their asses, but I noticed the other drivers waiting to get through. They were so unbothered. Mothers joked around with their children; young women danced to Italian rap music. I was the only one upset about not getting to my destination fast enough. I climbed back into my car, took a deep breath, and laid my head on the headrest. It was another fifteen minutes before we started moving again. I spent a lot of time waiting in my car during my stay on that little island, particularly when 80 or so geep — goat/sheep — blocked my path on my way to work.

If I learned anything after almost three years in Sicily, it is to live in the moment and not rush. “O mio babbino caro” puts me in that mentality. It calms me. It is the perfect representation of the Italian temperament, because, although it crescendos, it never gets to the point where the drama is too much for the listener. It is as contradictory as the people of Italy. The drama of Puccino’s most popular aria reminds me of having to leave my car doors open when I parked on the streets of Catania while running errands, so that petty thieves did not have to smash my windows to search my car for anything of value. To this day I have to remind myself to lock the doors. The parts of the aria that soothe me, take me back to driving up the Sicilian coast, lounging on the beach, and watching the locals interact with one another. I remember walking through Elephant Square during siesta, when most of the stores are closed, and only a few people are on the quiet streets.

“O mio babbino caro” will always be the quintessential Italian song to me, because of the never-ending memories of Sicily it evokes. The highs and lows of my experiences on that beautiful island will forever be a part of me, and “O mio babbino caro” will always make me want to return.

Two Traveling Trinis

This is a travel diary.