Buy the Ticket
In a completely coincidental span of about two weeks I read the book “Wild” and watched the film “The Way.” What’s a bit weird is that both works (which I highly-recommend) dive into the same theme of traveling alone. Specifically, going out on a somewhat isolated journey to sort through life-altering events.
Have you ever traveled alone?
I did, once … kind of. During my senior year of college I enrolled in a program called Alternative Spring Break. It was an interesting week during which I traveled with complete strangers to Chicago to work on “Streetwise,” the newspaper (although I think it’s since been converted to a magazine layout) sold throughout the city by homeless men and women for a nominal amount. It’s a wonderful organization, and the people that run it are the salt of the Earth. So, I can’t say I was solo, exactly, during those travels. I wasn’t trekking through the Pacific Crest Trail like Cheryl Strayed in “Wild,” or embarking on the historical quest of el Camino de Santiago like Martin Sheen’s character in “The Way.” No, I was surrounded by people the entire time, but no one that I knew beforehand, which was a strange feeling–to be without the comfort of an existing relationship with my travel companions.
Siesta Key
My first trip to Florida was when I was a sophomore in high school and went to visit a friend of mine whose family moved to Orlando. I have to say, Orlando is not exactly my favorite spot (quite the opposite, actually). The parking lot coming out of Disney World at 10 p.m. with kids that should’ve been fed and in bed hours prior kind of turned me off. But, once I met my husband, I realized the specialness Florida holds for him and his family. Thank goodness that place is not Orlando.
We go just about every season possible and the vibe of the area changes with the time of year. For instance, during spring break, it’ll be flooded with snowbirds who call it home (one who once flipped me the bird because I inadvertently didn’t come to a full stop for pedestrians who hadn’t yet started walking across the street). To fall, when you’ll likely have the whole beach to yourself (my favorite). We try to go in the summertime at least once, generally around July 4, because in my mind, there’s nothing quite like seeing fireworks over the ocean. And we’ll make up a big batch of something great to eat, like scallops with bacon and sweet corn on the grill, open a bottle wine, and it’s my idea of perfection. It’s filled the families like us, leisurely celebrating the holiday.
The area we go to is Siesta Key, about seven hours south of Atlanta, just off Sarasota overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. We’re utterly spoiled when we go–we get to use my in-laws condo for our stay, which is such a generous treat. It feels just as much like going home as it does when we return to my husband’s hometown of Cincinnati. Because of this, I cannot exactly recommend places to stay, but I can offer a ton on where to eat and what to do. Here are my recommendations of where to head while in stunning Siesta Key.
Bucket List
Image: Courtesy of Keep Calm Gallery
It’s always this time of year, springtime, when I get an itch to travel. You can see my similar post here back in May 2010 about dream destinations. There aren’t too many places I wouldn’t venture, but I do have a handful of spots higher on my list than others. This is my travel bucket list at the moment.
Inside Atlanta
Piedmont Park flooded with Music Midtown revelers
My favorite editor once described Atlanta as the not-as-cool little sister, and it fits so accurately. It’s no big sister city like L.A., NYC, Miami, or Chicago. Despite desperately wanting otherwise, it will forever be the Jan to Marsha Brady.
I get asked the question often enough to finally warrant an article, “Where in the world does one head if visiting the ATL?” I moved here in 2000, and the past 12 years are the most I’ve lived anywhere. There are several things you should know about my adopted city: First, a car is required. Atlanta (not unlike Dallas) is a highway city and public transportation isn’t the way to go for more than one reason (it’s run in four primitive directions, North and South line, East and West, and frankly, MARTA is a culture shock no one from out of town should be subjected to on a first visit).
Second, hitting the right neighborhood in Atlanta is key to a good time. While Buckhead was the posh spot reigning supreme in the 1990s boom, hipper intown areas today are Little 5 Points (L5P), Virginia Highland, Old Fourth Ward (O4W), Midtown, and Inman Park.
Here’s the whole pop on where to go and what to do in Atlanta.
Destination: Fathom
Jeralyn Gerba is often credited with an irrepressible knack for spotting the undiscovered long before it’s on trend. It served her well as a former DailyCandy editor, and now, as co-founder and editorial director of the travel website, FATHOM. I’ve been a fan of the site since its launch July 2011 and Gerba was gracious enough to grant me an interview. Here it is.
An Ode to Ocean
While I do like my Atlanta life, I terribly miss living by water. You’d think I lived in Hawaii longer than three years, because that stint and the less than one year in Norfolk, Virginia were the only times I’ve lived near an ocean.
After our Christmas holiday at my mom’s house in Kansas, we headed west to ring in the New Year with my twin sister in California, loaded with sunshine and the Pacific, in all her glory.
While there, I went on a hike called the Skyline to the Sea. It’s a strenuous almost 12-miler that around mile nine gave me the most glorious sight I’ve ever laid eyes on—a break in the mountains, to see the roaring ocean waves lapping up the coast just off Hwy. 1. You hear it first and feel it second, so before you even see her, you know she’s there.
She is powerful and moving and was a very symbolic way to close 2011. I already miss her.
Crazy About Krakow
About a year ago I traveled to Krakow, Poland for the wedding one of my best friends. I held off on writing about it on dp in order to give first dibs to other publications. Now, I can finally shout it from the rooftops (err computer) what an amazing city this is.
I’m not certain that had the occasion not been there, I would’ve ever ended up in Eastern Europe before Western. Because, I’m admittedly embarrassed to say, I’ve never been to Europe, and I always thought I’d roam wine country in France or eat my way through Italy long before exploring former Jewish settlements in Poland.
This trip was taken at a pivotal point in my life. My husband had just gotten a job after a nine-month layoff, but we were still very much feeling the financial and emotional effects of that period; my mom was just starting treatment for her second cancer battle with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The timing juxtaposed, a really happy, special time in my friend’s life against some personal gunk that was both sad and hard. In all actuality, this feeling isn’t unlike the duality of Krakow—it’s sleek, cosmopolitan, and hip (supposedly it’s becoming what Prague was for American tourists about 10-15 years ago), against a rich (and tragic) history, renaissance and gothic architecture, and ample grittiness. Here’s my pop on Krakow.
Pieces of You
Last month my husband and I went to the beach for eight days. It seemed so ridiculously luxurious, the two of us escaping for that long with absolutely nothing on the agenda except to arrive back in Atlanta tanned, relaxed, and holding the key to the perfect margarita recipe.
Besides basking for over a week in great conversation (seriously, we might’ve solved the debt crisis—at least in our own household), fabulous food (raw oysters and chocolate croissants, I could eat you every day), long beach walks (stumbling upon Stephen King’s dwelling on Casey Key was a nice surprise, the spooky guy in the Sea Oats scaring the you-know-what-out-of-us … not so much), and catching up on stacks of books and magazines both of us had been meaning to read, we didn’t do a thing. There was one final kicker—neither of us worked!
In the three years I’ve owned danapop, LLC, that’s never happened. Like most folks who run a small company, you answer phone calls at unexpected times and work when it’s required. But, coming home after that holiday from my everyday life, I’m not exaggerating when I say I feel like an entirely new person.
Freedom
Stepping away from the computer and replacing it with raw oysters, sweet corn, champagne, fireworks, the metronomic sound of ocean waves, hot and humid three-mile runs, and quality time with my husband. Independence Day (err seven day) bliss. See you next week.
Roots & Wings
Jim Bailey’s stunning photograph captures a storm cloud over Baxter Springs. See more of his work at jimbaileyphoto.com.
We’re heading to the beach next week to spend the 4th of July holiday in Siesta Key, Florida. And it’s reminding me of where I watched fireworks (in spirit) for several years growing up. While we didn’t take many vacations as a family, we did annually stay in my dad’s hometown of Baxter Springs, Kansas for a pow-wow to celebrate Independence Day with lifelong family friends and tribal leaders. In lieu of bottle rockets, oohs and ahs, there, we were surrounded by drumbeats and feathered regalia in ceremonial dance.
Ottawa Nation pow-wow in Quapaw, Oklahoma
My family has strong ties to that three corners region where Missouri, Oklahoma, and Kansas intersect—my great-grandparents Raymond and Fey, met and married in Baxter Springs. It’s just 13 miles from where my father was born in Joplin, Missouri’s St. John’s Hospital, which was hit by the tornado that devastated the area on May 22.
Movie star Tom Mix visiting Baxter Springs, riding my great-grandfather’s horse, Diamond.
All of this reminds me of how much has changed in my life since the last time I’ve been and how much folks in that part of the country are still sifting through. But, I know energy and ancestry runs deep in the land, so I’m hoping for a little tribal dance, a flutter of hope in their honor.
