Colorful Cartagena

The best color in the whole world is the one that looks good on you.

-Coco Chanel-

Cartagena. A city full of color, sound, warmth, and incredible history. It is more than a place. It is a state of mind. A dance. A destination where the old world meets the new.

I had the pleasure of welcoming in 2019 here and it was a celebration to be remembered. The salt from the sea saturated not only my skin, but my soul as well. The city is split into two sections—the Old City as well as the new. I preferred to spend my time in the Old City—full of historic architecture with bright Latin colors paired with meandering cobblestone streets. The sun was always shining and the warmth of the temperature was the reflection of the people.

Each day, I would take time to explore and bask in the wonders that were before me. As a food and drink enthusiast, my palette wandered through the neighborhoods. And as I predicted, I was not disappointed. Colombians, similar to other Latin countries, demonstrate their personality and love through food, music, art, dance, faith, and family. Since these are my favorite things, I felt right at home. La Hechicera soon became my rum of choice. My rum tasting at El Arsenal: The Rum Box offered an informative educational experience to the history of Colombia’s rums. Let’s just say that after tasting over a dozen rums, my heart was in a state of bliss. My palette also became alive with tastes from Donjuan Restaurant. This local restaurant offered authentic cuisine in a warm and inviting atmosphere. Each dish strives to enhance its simple ingredients. Be sure to not to miss the delectable tastes of their muelitas (crab with an infusion of butter, garlic, red peppers, and white wine), carpaccio (vegetables seasoned with goat cheese) and the risotto of prawns (fresh tomatoes, mascarpone, and parmesan). All of their dishes are encouraged to share, so be sure not to dine alone. Also, it is highly suggested that you make reservations well in advance, as walk-ins can rarely be accommodated. Following dinner, I often found myself at Alquimico. This “speak-easy” bar, situated in the Old City of Cartagena, offers custom-crafted cocktails that continually satisfied my palette. With three floors, each floor offers an individualized and unique ambiance. Dinner can be enjoyed on the ground, as well as the second floor. On the roof, I regularly discovered an energized and vibrant environment.

For those who wish to get out of the city and breathe in more of the salt air—experiencing the island life—the Rosario Islands are a must. This archipelago of islands offered more than wonderful oceanography and wildlife. It is known for being a prime spot for diving, kayaking, and most of all—a peace of mind. I highly recommend taking a day trip. Or if time allots, take a few additional nights to truly soak in their essence. You won’t regret it.

Cartagena, its islands, and the sea that surround it offered me a look into the past and a focus upon the future. This is a destination for solo travelers, families, couples, and groups. With its prime location and easy access, there isn’t a reason why one shouldn’t travel to Cartagena, Colombia.

Let its vivaciousness inspire you!

Dance to its rhythm and return forever changed. I know I did.

525,600 Minutes: 2018

I’m just a traveller on this earth.

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Like a bubbly glass of champagne, the holidays fill me with excitement, celebration, and elegance. It’s familiar, but completely special. Maybe that’s why I also treasure travel and family. Seven years ago, my family began the “test” if we were going to be able to survive on longer trips together. And though there was some roaring as we were in the African safari, we realized something: family, like travel, is a gift.

And so, each year (almost), we go on a trip together. This year, we are making a record of it (3 in 1 year)! Napa. Mexico. and now Colombia. Each of us can count on the following: We’ll eat too much. Drink too much. But also laughter will always play a part. And the spa will be a definite.

It’s funny how the older I get, the more sentimental I become, but how I desire for others to find a tribe of people (family, friends, or both) that they can travel with. Like families, each city and country, has its own uniqueness. From the rugged ice-capped mountains of Patagonia to the warm temperatures and colors of Cuba, to the vastness and lush landscape of the Azores to the 200+shades of blue in the Bahamas, each place has its own beauty to share. Like your aunt who takes too many pictures, to your relative with the poor fashion taste, to the familiar smells of your home, to your nieces and nephew’s laughter, family members bring color to the room. Green to red and to all the shades in between, it’s family.

So, get in the car or on the plane or cross the street. Travel + family = the best gift of the year.

As for me, I’ll be toasting to 2019 in Colombia (Latin style)! Keep celebrating and keep traveling.

Cheers to new adventures ahead!

East. Coast. Salt.

The past couple of months have been filled with travel. Not international. Domestic. But travel, just the same. This week, I’ve finally had a moment to step back and reflect on all of my recent travels (personal and professional).

I finished off the summer by spending a beautiful Labor Day weekend on the beach of St. Simon’s Island with my family. The island is a familiar one that my family and I visited annually when I was growing up. It had been about 5 years since my return and the familiar smell and taste of southern salt did not disappoint. There’s something about returning to your roots that causes you to pause and reflect. The weekend was filled with salt in our mouths. My tastebuds were deliciously satiated by the sea. Oysters paired with white wine slid down my thoat like an ocean’s night swim. Crab bisque warmed my belly when the rain decided to spoil our sunshine day. The sea remained constant and I was home. Each night, we’d sip martinis and laugh as the cotton candy sky dipped into the chocolate night. Every day was memorable—especially the time I was given to sing, love on my nieces, and family. Salt of the earth. That’s the south. Sweet and salty all wrapped up into one. The weekend flew by, but my heart and soul were satisfied—straight to the core. The taste of east coast salt had begun. Next stop, Virginia.

I soon arrived in Charlottesville, Virginia. And though this isn’t a city along the seashore, it is on the east just the same. And there’s something about the area that is salt in my veins. My grandfather was born in Gordonsville, Virginia—about 10 miles from Charlottesville. Meetings for work took me there, but the heart of family was what spoke to my heart. History. Horses. Mountains. Countryside. At every turn, there was a memory. One evening was spent with my distant cousin and author, Barclay. He and I shared commentaries of ancestors past and the liveliness of their lives. Through differences, one thing that they all had in common was their joy for life and the courage to truly grab life by the mane and ride through it. Bedside moments at the local historic plantation, Clifton Inn, welcomed me with a hot shower and warm robe on a rainy night. Hot breakfast in the morning as I looked over the fresh dew perched atop the meadow, reminded me of the goodness that is found in home—even a home I’d never spent more than a few days. My heart jumped into my surroundings full force, as it did with the salt in the ocean. As I drove away, I peered into more of my story unfolding. And it was only beginning—taking me north.

I soon found myself along the banks of Cape Cod, Massachusetts. A place where the Mayflower arrived and the deepest and oldest parts of American history began. As I walked down to the beach for my culinary experience along the seashore, my feet dug deep into the sand. It was if they were telling me not to depart—to soak in the moment I was in. The pull into the earth forced me to look up and look around. The waves lapped upon the seashore. The sun painted hues of pink and purple across the evening sky as it began to set. The faint sounds of laughter and conversation could be heard in the distance from the nearby Chatham Bars Inn, as well as on the beach. The dampness in the air mixed with salt filled my lungs and quieted my mind. My heart was full, but my stomach was famished—ready for the delights ahead. Fortunately, as I reached the table full of strangers, soon to become family, my wine glass was immediately filled with Flowers Pinot Noir. The taste of the earth filled my mouth and soon the sea would join it—mussels and peppers and a butter sauce that was unbeatable. As the sun set, candles were lit and thankfulness filled the night sky. I continued up the stairs to meet my friend for the rest of the evening. Manhattans, old fashioneds, and wine flowed freely.

The following day, we boarded the ferry to Nantucket and set our sites on the surroundings of this aristocratic island. Our afternoon lunch at CRU overlooked the sea. Oysters filled our mouths as we watched sailboats succumb to the dancing of the sea. We decided to make our way to Cisco Brewers and see what brews they had to offer the island and southern ladies, such as ourselves. The tour was informative and the pours were heavy. From wine to whiskey, we tasted it all. But the best surprise was when I turned around and home had come to me. Amongst all the northerners, I spotted my favorite Charleston, SC culinary establishment—a 167 Raw table—covered in oysters. As I chatted with the gentlemen at the table, they spoke of my family and of Charleston and their love for the south. Once again, I was home.

As I’ve now returned to Nashville (for the moment) before I head to the sea again next week, I can’t help but think of how the east and the coast and salt have such an impact on my being. Like an ocean wave, travel along the east coast has caught me by surprise and yet given me a sense of familiarity as well. And I am reminded again of the elements found only in the heart and I’m thankful for the ones I carry.

Home Away From Home: Niagara on the Lake

The day was overcast and the humidity was almost as thick as the unwanted swelter back home. I slowly stepped off the bus and began to walk into town. Even a few steps in, I felt as if I were returning to my childhood--a time when the pace was slower and people talked to each other as they passed on the street. Children were riding their bikes and there wasn't a chain business in sight. All local. Very authentic. My style. This Canadian town oozed with charm and delight and I knew there were stories to be discovered with every turn. This preserved 19th-century town in the heart of Ontario wine country, continued weaving its spell of nostalgia and Victorian times past. I lingered past the Royal George Theatre as children gazed in the windows--anticipating the next production.  As I proceeded down main street, I started to have a craving for gelato and a cappuccino. Just then, before my eyes, as soon as the thought entered my mind, there was Il Gelato di Carlotta--serving both gelato and cappuccino. Not only that, but there was a perfect window bar seat for me to people watch with my culinary delights, as I returned to Paris and Italy in my mind. To say that I was beginning to fall in love with this Canadian town, was an understatement. It had captured me.

My discovery continued as I peered into local antique shops and galleries--awakening my visual senses to the beauty of paintings, pottery, and interior design. Each home I passed carried a story with historical charm and reverence. The sky began to darken as the clouds rolled in--transforming the playful mood of the day to one of mystery. I decided to make one last stop before returning to my bus. So, I popped in the charming Prince of Wales Hotel. This Victorian hotel carried all the charm and elegance of days past. The attention to detail from the cigar room to the high tea china was exemplary. As I explored the property, my heart ached that I soon had to depart. How I longed to stay and move to the pace of the past. But this, I knew would be a place that I would return to and fall in love with all over again. 

As I began to stroll back towards my bus, it began to rain--conveying the feelings of my heart. This was a day of refreshment and I didn't want to leave. I was home--"home away from home" in a town I would never forget--Niagara on the Lake. 

Salt + Swimming Pigs

The air was thick with salt and endless possibilities on that hot summer day. My shorts stuck endlessly to my thighs--reminding me of my desire and longing to be out in the sea itself. The water was like a piece of glass dipped in as many shades of blue as there were stars in the sky.

My heart beat quickly as the boat moved away from the shore. Like many parts of the ocean, there was much of myself that I still needed to unlock and discover. The wet salt from the sea beat against my cheek as the boat sped up and a new adventure began to take place.

1. 2. 3. 4. Off I went...

We rode for miles and miles further into the sea. After about an hour, we arrived at Iguana beach. It appeared as if we had entered the Galapagos. There were lizards and iguanas everywhere. So, being the friendly southern gal that I am, I decided to make friends with them. They opened their mouths wide in hopes that I would feed them--bringing humor to my soul. My heart couldn't resist the moment to jump in the salty water--enveloping myself completely in it.

We were soon off to the next stop--a visit to the infamously famous swimming pigs. Legend has it that they had overrun an island in the 80s. The government decided to place many of them on a deserted island. But the picnics of sailors and yachters tempted the over-abundant stomachs of the pigs, and before too long they were swimming out to the boats requesting a meal or two. Well, I'm not certain if all of this is true, but the pigs do swim and they are incessantly hungry--running after a piece a food like it is their last. I was able to lure one into the ocean with a carrot. And in a not so typical pig fashion, he came swimming to retrieve his food. He was then kind enough to turn around, so that I could have a photo snapped with him. Definitely a moment to remember--and all on the Fourth of July!

My adventure continued to a deserted island where I laid out in the sun and enjoyed the nature around me. The boat ride back, I breathed in the overwhelmingly beautiful views and allowed myself to relax--as I dozed back and forth into a summertime nap.

Hair and skin full of salt and endless memories, I recounted the tale of Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea and how the salt water is mysterious and enchanting--bringing you a moment of unexpected gifts. And for that moment, though I was alone, my heart once again became alive.

“Never go on trips with anyone you do not love. -EH”

@worldwidewillett with the swimming pigs

Looking Forward

At the beginning of 2018, I decided to make a conscious and dedicated effort to my body--caring for it emotionally, physically, and spiritually. As an avid traveler, I am frequently on the go--leaving my home at least once per month (sometimes more). This oftentimes can take a toll on my body. It can be tempting to not care for my state of well being. So, I began regularly taking barre classes. Similar to ballet, it focuses on isolating muscles and strengthening your core. It is truly a mind + body exercise. It has affected me greatly that I take many of the exercises on the road with me. Recently, it became a tradition for me to pose in a particular yoga pose with the destination in the background. As I've gone through these photos, one thing has come to mind: Looking forward.

Looking forward.

Like a compass, my body is pointing in a direction. Looking not to what is behind me, but intently and intentionally focusing forward. But at the same, moment, remaining still--captured in the moment. Enjoying the moments around me. Breathing it in. These pictures are reminders to me that wherever in the world I am, I am encouraged to remain present, but to forever gaze forward--boldly with hope and anticipation and in wonder. 

What about you? What direction is your body, soul, and spirit pointing towards? The attitude of your heart will reflect this. Allow yourself to be open to all that is around you.

Always looking forward, my friend.

Rose-Colored Glasses

n. (pl.): an optimistic perception of something; seeing something in a positive way

I am a fan of rose colored--everything: champagne, decor, flowers, clothing, accessories. The list could go on an on. Pink is a sure way to make my day happier. As I was scrolling through my photos of delicious food and wine experiences, I noticed that I had many pictures of rose colored glasses. Being the curious gal that I am, I looked up what "rose-colored glasses" actually meant. To my delight, it is a phrase to describe who is the eternal optimist--perceiving things in a positive way.

Now, being the avid traveler that I am, I experience moments daily where it can be tempting to darken or fog up my rose-colored glasses. It's much more difficult to remain positive when your baggage has been lost or your transportation fails to arrive or your flight is cancelled. But let me reassure you of this (as well as myself):

Every moment in our lives gives us an opportunity to choose. We can choose to see with darkened glasses or with rose-colored ones.

Choosing the rose-colored ones is a win win every time: for your health, emotional well-being, finances, relationships, and career. Perspective is everything.

Now, don't get me wrong. This isn't an excuse to not live in reality. You can maintain a very realistic perspective, but carry a positive attitude.

We have one life here on this earth and why not spend it spreading positive vibes.

So, cheers to rose, smelling the roses, and rocking the pink outfit.

Rose wins every time.

Rainy Days + Spa Days = A Perfect Getaway

Last weekend was unforgettable and truly memorable. The 5+ hours I piled in my nugget of a rental car wasn't too exciting, but my cramped body immediately relaxed into a puddle as I pulled into the entrance of Chateau Elan Spa and Winery. The rain was beginning to pitter patter on my windshield. The forecast called for a soggy and wet weekend. My thought--perfect. What could be better than sitting by a fire in my plush robe and slippers, sipping endless glasses of wine, while getting rubbed from top to bottom in between! Heaven.

As I pulled in, one of the bellmen greeted me and kindly took my things to the room. My mother, whom I was meeting, was waiting there. The warmth of the lamps in the room reflected the calm and relaxed feeling that would linger throughout the weekend. I opened a bottle of Chilean red--whisking me back to one of my favorite destinations in the world. The two of us caught up before heading to dinner at Cotton Calf Kitchen a few miles down the road. There, my burger craving met its expectations--all while being topped with tomato, brioche, gorgonzola cheese and paired with truffle fries. My nostalgic moment also called for the comfort of an old fashioned, which did not disappoint.

When we arrived back to Chateau Elan, the rain started to come down. The healing sound of the drops of rain, soothed me into a calm and delightful sleep. When I awoke, my mother had already been up for hours--walking the grounds and enjoying her morning peaceful ritual. All I could think of was my friend that was black and in a cup. Yep. Coffee. My mother and I soon got in our robes and walked down to the spa. The smell of lavender and vanilla filled the room. My shoulders began to relax and all the rest of me melted and I entered the realm of calm.

From the antioxidant wine bath followed by an hour and a half massage, to the endless bubbles of champagne and the delightful afternoon tea, the weekend couldn't have been more blissfully soothing. Every ounce was just what my physical and emotional well-being craved. Just as the rain brought healing and life to the land, so the rainy weekend at the spa brought nourishment to my soul. My mother and I laughed and talked and laughed some more. What a fun-filled weekend of time spent together paired with relaxation.

As I piled in my small rental car to head back to Tennessee, the rain sprinkled down, but not for long. There was just a mist as I drove through the welcoming gates and waved goodbye to my French paradise. "Au revoir!" I whispered.

I turned the corner--knowing that this was just the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

My. Heart. Soars.

It was a humid and warmer than usual summer month in Georgia. He picked me up in his Ford sedan. My legs stuck to the seats like a fly on a honey trap. I started to fidget and bite my nails. I did this not only when I was nervous, but it was now a well-formed habit. One I had picked up (or inherited) from him. We started our 4+ hour drive north. I waited for the radio to start our magic (and his epic air guitar skills). Huey Lewis and the News graced us with Hip to be Square. He turned up the dial and we both sang from the top of our lungs--windows down and ready for a hamburger run. Our journey continued north to the big city of Atlanta and then he turned down the stereo and it happened--the decision that would be the beginning of my heart's deepest longing. He turned his blue eyes to meet mine and said: So, how would you like to start flying to Atlanta? His words were still running through my mind. Fly to Atlanta? I was slightly confused, so I replied with So, would you fly with me?

No, you'd fly on your own.

I could hardly believe it. For the past couple of years, he had always driven to Savannah for our long visits. My dad was now letting me fly. By. Myself. And my mom had agreed. I wanted to scream and shrill with excitement, but somehow, I kept my cool and responded, "Sure. That would be great."

My heart started to flutter with nervousness and excitement at the unexpected. I had never flown by myself and I honestly couldn't remember the last time I had flown in the short 7 years of my lifetime.

But that hot and humid summer day was the day I fell in love. It was the day that I knew that life would forever change. Adventure was on the horizon and I had been given a ticket.

Travel and I would soon kiss and our love affair would never die.

Thanks to the man of my dreams--my dad.

My heart took flight.

Time. Stood. Still. (falling in love while traveling)

Travel is like love, mostly because it's a heightened state of awareness, in which we are mindful, receptive, undimmed by familiarity, and ready to be transformed. That is why the best trips, like the best love affairs, never end. -Pico Iyer

As a single woman in my mid-thirties, I often get the question about my singleness--if I think traveling solo is the barrier for me being single. I realize that this is a challenge for most people to understand, but whatever sets you on fire shouldn't keep you from love. It should attract it.

As Valentine's Day approaches, I've started to reflect on love. Travel truly is my love. Like author, Iyer, states above, "Travel is like love because it's a heightened state of awareness, where we are mindful, receptive, and ready to be transformed." And travel does this. It transforms me. And each love affair that I have transforms me--prepares me for the best.

From the outback love in Australia to the glacier guide and trekker in Chile, travel has never come to a close.

Over the next couple of days, I will share my love affair experiences with you. The vulnerable and the valuable. How these travels awakened and transformed me--forever giving my heart the courage to love again--especially when it left me.

xxx

Above the Clouds

Where's my #WanderlustWednesday? It's above the clouds, of course. 

For me, flying, traveling, and discovering are at the essence of who I am. 

LIke air, I need to have it.

My truest and rawest addiction.

My deepest passion.

So, when someone asks me where I want to go, I say: "everywhere." Above the clouds is my best bet.

Life gets clearer. Problems seem smaller. Nothing seems impossible. The world becomes a canvas again and I, a bit of color, within the larger painting.

There was a movie I used to love to watch as a teenager: How to Make an American Quilt. It's about a girl who goes to visit her grandmother for the summer. She joins her grandmother's quilting group. And as she is surrounded by each of them and their stories, her own life begins to take shape and form. She realizes what is truly important to her and what isn't. She dives into her passion and even more importantly, into the lives of other people. 

The environment brings change.

This is what happens when I travel. The environment around me develops and grows me. It challenges me to gaze into a deeper perspective. There's immediate peace and the world somehow comes to a halt. 

I make it a habit to disconnect completely from my phone while flying. This is a wonderful "de-stresser" and encourages me to be in the moment. I would like to say that I do this once I'm on the ground portion of my travels. Rarely does this happen. Though I will say, I've made a new tradition recently to have an afternoon that is unplanned where I leave my technology behind and I allow myself to be completely immersed. What a breath of fresh air!

So, what is your Wanderlust Wednesday? Is it a weekend retreat with your friends? A solo getaway? Local? Abroad? Exotic? Adventuresome? Or calm? 

Whatever it is, may you gain new perspective and insight. May you soak up the moment and embrace it for all that it's worth and be thankful to allow yourself to go there.