Windy and Warm and Right in the World

A cruise? Me? Never thought I would be into it.

I'm usually a travel-on-foot-(at risk of seasickness) discover a-place-spontaneously-kind of traveler. But it was my husband's 40th birthday, and I surprised him. Eight days (sans kids) in the Southern Caribbean!

We land in Puerto Rico (after a red-eye. Remind me to lay off the red eyes--sleeping on the plane never works for me.) But I'm happy to the exit the plane and smell a slight hint of cinnamon and tang of a spicy chile. Feels good to be back in a Latin American country--see the familiar airport signs in Spanish--to be reminded of my adventures in S. America.

After a little snafu (long wait time for our ride,) we make it to the dock. We don't have time to visit old town Puerto Rico (next time for sure.) Check-in is seamless. And as we board, the sheer size of the ship strikes us first. Royal Caribbean's Adventure of the Seas was the biggest ship on the ocean a few years back (now dwarfed by Oasis of the Seas twice its size :0) It absolutely unbelievable that anything SO HUGE can float!

We love our stateroom--small, but just right with a big porthole window. James, our steward is wonderful (and leaves us folded, animal towels every night that we adore) We tour the ship--astounding by its beauty and completeness. On deck, the pools are gorgeous (all 3!) jacuzzis, gym, rockwall, water slides, and even a mini inline skate track. We hit our first meal--so much food! We make a pack right there to actually eat healthy (it can be done on a cruise, we found out) and workout everyday.

We have the late dining. A table of six--two other couples (and all three of us girls, vegetarian!) Lannie and Cory are from Pennsylvania and Eva and David, Holland. We have a blast eating, joking, and truly enjoying are table-mates every night. Adrian is our waiter for the week. His grace, humor, and charm are obvious right away. He'll do anything for us :) Birthday celebration for Dan. A few nights, all the servers/chefs come down into the three-leveled dining room to dance/sing and show us their stuff! (3,500 passengers about 1,500 employees that represent over 75 countries around the world.) For dinner, we have amazing soups & appetizers, luscious fruit--and all kinds of delicious entries (pan-friend tofu/bok choy & Indian for me. Yum.) Desserts are perfect. Tiramisu. Key lime. Sorbet.

We make friends quickly with the coffee bar--that's along the "boardwalk" on Deck 5. Shops. Cafes. Music. Chai latte everyday, plus a few spirited hot chocolates for us at night (and pizza and sandwich snacks in the afternoon.)

So much to do every night. Pooslide parties (for just about ANY occasion) Talented musicians (acoustic, Latin/salsa, a rockin' piano bar) shows, poker (for Dan,) and we even got crazy and took a tango lesson. Arrribbba! The Transderm anti-motion sickness patch has dilated my eyes (possible side effect,) so I can't read (blurry.) But it's kinda nice. There's so much to do. We even partake in a seaweed massage. So relaxing, and so much fun to have on this floating paradise.

Like we do many for every night afterward, Dan and I hit the deck our first night onboard. It's warm and breezy. Lit up, the ship resembles a galaxy of stars. Walking along,arm-in-arm, the ocean is smooth, the night black. And all seems perfectly right in the world.

Salty and Satisfied

I knew I'd love New York City. And even after a knee-achin, no-snoozin-red-eye flight, I did. We arrived early early am, tired, frustrated with lost luggage, and COLD. Welcome to NYC, below freezing. Check bags at Grand Hyatt near Grand Central Station. Warm up in Starbucks--and then adrenaline kicks in. Hop on the double-decker to explore Manhattan. First stop-- Rockefeller Center. Built between 1932 and 1940 by John D. Rockefeller, is perfect,even before seven a.m. Cafes, theaters, shopping, all bustling with life. On the lower level, bundled humans glide across winter ice rink. A perimeter of world flags flap in the icy chill, the bold colors a striking contrast against the glacial floor. But the 18 degree weather keeps us from gazing too long at the skaters, or at Prometheus' golden form. Pass by NBC studios--and into the NBC store. We've got to thaw again just after a few minutes. Into Time Sqaure and a glimpse of the ever-famous New Year's Ball. Our California blood still in desperate need of a little thickening. Back out on the street...and into the M&M store. Defrost. And shop! Lots of cute stuff of a "Super Sweet" little girl

Broadway makes my heart sing. To be surrounded by so many theaters. So much talent. So many stories. Truly invigorating. Later today, it will be a hard choice as I wait in line at the TCKTS kiosk to get my discount ticket for the night. Short trip. Only one show. Unfair.

Admiring the skyline, we cruise through the streets in our double-decker. The Empire State Building. The Flatiron District--with the narrow, triangular "Flatiron" skyscraper on the intersections of Broadway, 5th, and 23rd. Surrounded inch-by-inch with history--something not in our SoCal consciousness. This famous and funky building was the city's first skyscraper, all 2o floors, built in 1902!

Heading south through East Village (where the tour guide must stay silent through neighborhoods,) we venture into Chinatown. Exit on Canal Street. Scarves, hats, and gloves are the hot items along the street. I smell a mixture of downtown traffic and a pungent spice I can't quite identify. The vendors pop up every ten feet, ready to make us a deal. And it's an offer we can't refuse. The teeth chattering-knee knocking temps leave us wanting more cloth to wrap around every square inch of our bodies. Heather has no hat, so we find THE perfect $3 beanie, like the stars had left it out just for us. Matching cashmere scarves--and we escape again into a tiny Chinese market to purchase the most important item of our trip. Hand warmers! Little packets of heat that last 13 hours! How could we have lived w/o them?

Off a few more blocks. Time to defrost in McDonald's. Listen to grand piano above (yes, in a McDonalds!) Back out on the street, braving the offshore breeze kicking up in our faces. We make it to City Hall. Take refuge in another Starbuck's, and chow down on a street-prepared falafel. Five bucks well spent. Juicy, white sauce, smothered in onions. Bellies full, we burst out into the cold.

I'm struck by the cemeteries tucked in between buildings. Three-four hundred year old burial grounds laid foot-by-foot with grave markers. Old stories of the dead. A family of tombstones gives me pause. How often do those ghosts try to absorb a transformed NYC? It's the land of lost gloves. Broken Dreams. Harsh winters. Or maybe a place of opportunity. Streets full of unleashed possibilities. History in the making.

Lower West side. We pass Ground Zero. The void leaves me empty. I imagine the crowds racing away from the clouds of dust that barreled down the street like waves that day. I am so disconnected from the reality, though, and can't even begin to imagine the tragedy. The horror of what happened. Haunted by St. Paul's chapel--the sanctuary that housed the heroes that devoted their lives to saving life after life. We're quiet.

Onto Battery Park. Wind chill numbs my lips. My nose seems to disappear. The ocean breeze is unbelievable. We greet the lady of liberty--but absolutely know it's way too cold to take a boat ride out into the harbor. Next time we'll see her face to face.

Back on the bus. Wait in line for a ticket. An hour in about 16 degrees to see NEXT TO NORMAL for $60. Will it be worth it? Back up toward Grand Central. We visit the gorgeous, old NY Public Library and happen upon a teen book club. Check out the shelves, and talk books. Off to the hotel to sit, and rest a bit.

Walk to Broadway. NEXT TO NORMAL at the Booth Theater. Small, quaint, like the Pantages here at home. Ninth row orchestra. I'm stoked. Show starts, and instantly, I'm captivated by this story of love and loss, suffering, complex relationships and the light you search for in your soul to make it through. Why did NOBODY warn me that I'd need tissue? Lots of it. Everyone in the audience is a wreck. The sniffling. The silent weeping. An emotional ride of twists and turns, surprises and unprecedented, sacred moments that tear your heart out. Whew. What a ride.

Outside, Times Square bursts with life. And I'm thankful to be alive. To feel. To breathe in color. To witness story telling and vocal performance at its finest. Yes, I'd have waited in line for many hours in 16 degree weather to see this show.

Saturday I take the subway to Greenwich Village, longing to absorb the literary and creative history. Eugene O'neil. EE Cummings. Faulkner. Steinbeck. Hemmingway. I cruise the streets for hours searching vintage clothing shops, using my internal GPS to find MacDougal St. where Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William Burroughs met for coffee. Too many choices. Upstairs, downstairs, hide-away-cafes and bars all filled with life. Oregano entices my palette, Where to eat? I want hang out and write in hopes of conjuring up a literary ghost to inspire me. I finally chose a great spot. The Hummus Place. Potato soup. Hummus. White wine. Could life get any better?

Heather meets me. We toast with a glass of sangria--spiced up with anise and clove. A wonderful walk through the village complete with discussion of the worlds of our novels. We meet our friend Steve at Lombardi's--the ultimate pizza (even though I only smell, not eat, stomach on the mend.) Amazing dinner mates. Talk of travel, books, life. Off to Rice to Riches--a gourmet rice pudding joint. Fancy flavors and toppings. Heaven for me (after recently making my mom's rice pudding recipe.)

Sunday conference. Good to connect and re-inspire. Off to Central Park for an hour. Beautiful contrasts of winter's silhouetted trees and skyline. Ice rinks and snow. We meet Bailey, a Portuguese water dog who loves to hold her owner's gloves. We walk, ice-chilled air, along paths and paths, yet only touch a bit of such a grand park.

Time in NYC almost over, for now. I end with friends and literary dreams. A pretzel off the guy at the corner. I'm salty and satisfied as I head for home. I'll be back. For sure.

Perfection

I guess growing up in SoCal gives you a warped view of snow. I have no clue what it's like to live in insanely cold places like Chicago or Minnesota or the North Pole for that matter. But for me, snow gives me a true sense of wonder. An untouched paradise. A place where magic happens.

And then, combine a wintery wonderland with Yosemite, one of the world's most sacred places--and you get perfection. To be in the Valley without thousands of other people is a precious experience in itself. But to see Half Dome graced with powder, illuminated by the last hint of the sun's fiery rays. That is perfection. To capture a reflection so absolute or a fallen long so shrouded. That is perfection.

And you can see that magic in the eyes of children. Sledding, racing downhill, illuminated with laughter and the power of endless possibilities. You can see it in the prance of paws--slipping and sliding with pure abandonment through powder. Snowshoe flight through the forest. You can feel it the love that binds us.

Mariposa Grove. Massive Sequoias grace us, withstanding anything and everything.

Snowflakes in my heart. Connecting us. Enlightening us. Preserving us.

Bringing joy that bubbles up into our consciousness.

Snow.

Let it cling to us.

Always.