Ossabaw on my Mind
The 1975 documentary on Grey Gardens and the HBO film in 2009 exploring this property in East Hampton, New York (once owned by mother and daughter, both named Edith Beale) are excellent. If you have a moment, the New York Times photos here are stunning and haunting at the same time, as is the Washington Post piece here. Earlier this year, Atlanta Magazine featured an incredible article on Ossabaw Island, the second largest island off the coast of Georgia in the barrier chain, the Golden Isles, and from the first word on the page about its sole property owner, ninety-eight-year-old Sandy West, it reminded me of Grey Gardens. You can read the full article here about West’s family selling the island to the state in 1978.
The string of land surrounded by water along the Atlantic shoreline is part of the reason I was intrigued to move to Atlanta in the first place. The notion that I, a landlocked girl from Kansas could live within a four to five hour proximity of the ocean is baffling. But, it’s true, and there are a dozen islands off the Southeastern part of the state, several with which you are probably familiar—Jekyll (frequented in the early 1920s by the Carnegie and Pulitzers as a winter retreat from Manhattan), Cumberland (John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette wedding), Tybee (numerous movies shot here), St. Simons (its famed first lighthouse has served as a beacon since 1807) and Sea Island (30th G8 Summit in 2004).
I’ve gotten to about a third of them and they all are special in their own way, but the one I want to visit next for certain is Ossabaw. Back in the 60s, West ran the island as the Ossabaw Island Project, an artists’ residency to rival the prestigious Yaddo in New York. There is something drawing me to want to work and write there, even if just for a week. It’s uninhabited mostly, barring West and those on her estate, and you can only get there by private boat and they’d like it to remain that way, preserved and rustic. My twin sister and I have been chatting for a while now about a joint artists’ residency with her sculpture and my writing to see what we can create, so perhaps this is the spot where we’re supposed to be? I do know there’s something drawing me there and I’m listening to that and hoping the untarnished image in my mind matches what I’ll discover.
Memory Road
In 2003, the July prior to my wedding that October, I visited one of my best friends in her hometown of Dublin, Ireland. Every March, with shamrock overloaded visuals and overindulgent drinking stereotypes it makes me think of that amazing trip, and also of that part of the globe. It really is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from the States. The trek is easier than you think and for us in Atlanta it’s only about an hour longer than flying to San Francisco or Seattle … worth it.
Here are a few of my photos (so old they had to be scanned) from that magical isle, though they don’t do the trip justice. The Dublin photos are pretty gloomy, as they were shot in black and white, and it was pouring mostly. To balance them out, I’ve also included a few of Edinburgh, Scotland since that was the part of the trip with glorious sunny pictures to prove it.
I ♥ NY
This wasn’t always the case, me involved in a love affair with New York. No, my first few trips were like bad dates that you just keep accepting because you’ve got nothing better to do on a Friday night. Manhattan was overwhelming to me—the noise level, the grittiness and brashness, the crowds, the lights, and the neighborhoods—all of it made me just want to stay home in my stereotypical sweats and watch a Rom-Com while eating takeout. Because of this, I never got to know the real New York until very recently—the one without cab drivers trying to rip off naïve girls from Kansas the second they step off the plane with their sleek black town cars sounding like a good idea in lieu of a grody taxi, one without harsh winters or sweltering summers, and void of tourists that stop to gawk in the middle of heavily trafficked sidewalks like they’ve just hopped off the turnip truck that I couldn’t look past.
I’ve been to New York a fair amount. My first trip, I wrote about here, in Holiday Bound, recounting the first Christmas after my father died. Every other trip after that initial one was for work (since when I worked in television my show was based there), so I made the jaunt often enough. Through it all, I’ve discovered in no other place does where you live exemplify who you are. Atlanta has neighborhoods, but our ‘hoods don’t necessarily define you as a person. In NYC saying you live in Battery Park, Alphabet City, Williamsburg, Hell’s Kitchen, or Morningside Heights says more about you than what line of work you’re in, whom you date, or the shoes you wear.
Iconic Events
I saw Nigella Lawson on book tour last year touting her holiday cookbook, Nigella Christmas. She gave a fantastic history lesson about medieval times and the tradition of glowing lights (err lanterns) lining the exterior of houses, making it easier for loved ones to find their way, despite the frigid weather and blackness of night. Those lights–warm and comforting, beaconing family and friends inside.
That story is so fitting because I just got back from spending the holiday in my hometown of Leavenworth, Kansas, just outside of Kansas City. One thing I love the most about KC is the plaza lighting ceremony, an annual event Thanksgiving night, marking the outdoor district open for the shopping season. That one night sums up what Kansas City means to me, it’s about family and friends and being bundled up and, as Nigella’s history lesson proved, one seeped in tradition.
But, not many people outside of Kansas City know about it, or other events similar to it for that matter. These iconic events that define a city, specific to a certain time and place; this country is full of them. Here are my picks for some of the lesser-known iconic events that sum up a time and space.
Postcards from L.A.
Los Angeles–the city of dreams. My twin sister lives in California, so it’s a state I visit often, but most of my stops are further up the coast in San Francisco, Santa Cruz, and Sonoma.
So, when I heard Catherine, the other half of the fantastic AsianCajuns, planned to hit the SoCal spot with her boyfriend Troy, I just had to get her take. Not only do Catherine and her twin sister Lauren (whom you read all about her travels to Scotland here) write the most fashionable blog in Atlanta, they are experienced travelers, and just plain fun.
Here’s Cath’s refreshing postcard … feel free to read this post while wearing sunglasses indoors, that’s so L.A.
This sign on the Santa Monica Fred Segal made me instantly happy. We had just eaten at the Umami Burger located inside and it was one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.
Meet Sammie the seagull. Troy and I named him as well sipped margaritas on the beach at Paradise Cove-a tourist trap in Malibu.
I fell in love with Ivanhoe Books in Silver Lake. It’s an architect, design bookstore/home store and is like walking into a Dwell or Domino editorial.
Apollo Grill in Burbank is the most unassuming eatery in all of L.A., but has the most amazing breakfast burritos.
We spent five days in Santa Monica. The pier reminds me a little bit of the beach towns in England. It’s perfect beach town kitschy-ness.
We rode a tandem bike along Santa Monica, Venice and Manhattan Beach and had so much fun we rented the bike again the next day.
Troy and I love a good beer. We stayed at the Farmer’s Daughter Hotel for a few days and stocked up at the nearby Bev Mo with some west coast beers.
No trip to L.A. would be complete without an In-N-Out Burger. The burger and fries definitely live up to the hype!
We met up with my cousin for dinner at this amazing ramen place in downtown L.A.
Postcards from Scotland
There’s something about a brooding, throaty Scottish accent. It’s absolutely my favorite. And it doesn’t hurt that I’m actually Scottish, at least the Hazels side of me is. According to a really old photo album put together by my late Grandma Mary, the Hazels clan has roots in what was Forfarshire, Scotland, today better known as Angus (which sounds about right what with the stockiness of those Hazels’ genes). Also, is it just me or does Forfarshire sound like a made-up place in Shrek?
I’m not alone in my Scottish penchant–fellow twins and bloggers extraordinaire, Catherine and Lauren (or Cath and Lar) the lovelies behind the über-popular (and just featured on Glamour.com’s Smitten Guide) Asian Cajuns adore the UK isle as well.
Lar was just in Scotland, and next month, you’ll get to read all about Cath’s Los Angeles adventures. So, here’s a twin and Scottish love collaboration in recap form.
I’m absolutely a city girl, but the rugged rural parts of Scotland could totally convince me to forgo the frenzied, smoggy city-life. The air is so clean, and everything has this gorgeous fresh scent. You know those romanticized postcards of rolling green hills, wispy clouds and full rainbows? The real thing puts them to shame.
We started out our trip in the rugged gorgeousness of the Highlands. During August and early September the heather (small purple flowers) bloom and the country is covered in greens and purples. We also (not exaggerating) saw frequent fully arched rainbows as we stepped out for a hike.
After a morning of hiking, we stop by a pub for a pint or a cup of tea and crumbly, buttery shortbread. A cup of tea and a nibble (or gobbling) of shortbread is a perfect antidote to any cloudy or rainy weather you might experience in Scotland. I swear I almost wanted more rain and lower temperatures just to get to wrap my hands around a warm mug of tea.
There are more sheep than people in Scotland. Up in the highlands you will actually feel like it is only you and sheep and maybe a few highland coos (cows). Sheep are rather… sheepish, so I could only get a few snaps of them as they scampered away from my camera.
Not the most attractive name for a delicious dish, but I swear cullen skink is something you should try, especially if you love smoked fish. Cullen is a town in Scotland and “skink” essentially means “shank.” So think, shank-of-smoked-fish-soup-from-the-town-of-Cullen. Better? Well, any way you say it, I swear it’s divine. We stumbled across a beautiful pub in the heart of the highlands just as a chilly mist was clearing. The minute we walked in, the smell of fresh baked bread and smoked fish had our mouths watering. They served it with a bit of sour cream and scallions on top.
Ptarmingan (prounced “Tar-mi-gan”) is just outside of the large-ish town of Pitlochry. We stayed at this beautiful B&B (Ptarmingan House), on our way down from Edinburgh. The rooms were gorgeous, the breakfast fry-up delicious, and place was run by a family of Olympic Curlers. Really. Those curling stones in the photo are not just for show.
Ahhh… Edinburgh. I spent six months living in Edinburgh when I was in college and loved every minute of my stay. The best way to describe it is a small-scale London (obviously, with a Scottish accent). There is a great deal of history and beauty everywhere. It’s not as big as it’s neighbor to the west (Glasgow), but it’s infinitely more charming.
We took a tiny break from our tea drinking one afternoon and stopped in at Chocolate Soup. As the name suggests, they do indeed serve melted chocolate in a bowl. I went for their classic hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and more… chocolate.
Edinburgh shopping is really good. There’s the classic British high street shops like Top Shop, H&M, Zara, Monsoon, etc., but really the best shopping is in the Old Town. Heading down to Grass Market I stumbled across an artists’ co-op, a graphic design bookstore (swoon!), and this boutique (photographed) called Swish. And don’t miss all the great thrifting you can do at the second-hand shops that line Nicolson St. (Oxfam, Cancer Research, etc.).
After a day of sight-seeing and shopping (and eating) in Edinburgh, we headed back to our carriage house in Tranent (just a few miles east of the city). The carriage house we rented is on the grounds of Fa’ Side Castle, and we had amazing views of the city from there. On our last evening in Edinburgh the world-famous Edinburgh Festival was coming to a close. We watched a stunning display of fireworks give us a beautiful send-off.
Cultural Differences
I’ve just returned from an amazing week in Krakow, Poland. I won’t be able to go into full travel details here per usual, as I’ve been assigned that piece for a mortgage paying publication and they get first dibs, but I can tell you a few general things, first … go.
No huge surprise here, like most eastern European countries, in Poland, the dollar gets you far. The old town section of Krakow (the best part) is built around a central square, so if you start there, you’ll be in excellent shape. Park it at a café, sip coffee with steamed milk and just soak it in. Later in the day, add some sight seeing and prosecco, and by gum, you’ve got a vacation from everyday American life.
The overarching theme I walked away with was taking time and allowing myself the space to just be. For us, this year has been one of twists and turns, and sometimes it has taken me a minute (or months) to integrate them into my life. To take time to fully grasp and appreciate the concept of the life I’ve built filled with close friendship, a supportive and loving family, and creative work that inspires me.
This trip allowed me the space to wander, think, write, and observe. The women in Europe are so chic. You’d never catch one in mom jeans looking haggard. No sir, even on long flights minding children and loads of luggage they still manage to put on mile high heels and lipstick. Affection is displayed quite openly and I found myself nostalgic about romance and those little moments I may not notice in my Atlanta life. It could also be because of the reason we were there … love was in the air.
We made the trek to Poland for a dear friend’s wedding, which was, without question, the nicest wedding I’ve ever attended (and like most people in their thirties, I’ve attended many). Planning my own wedding years ago, I made decisions merely to get them crossed off my list, but here that didn’t appear to be the case, seemingly taking such care in every decision from meal, to reading selection, to wine list. The loveliest ceremony I’ve ever witnessed.
Now, back to my cultural observations about both in being in Europe and being surrounded by mostly Irish and English wedding attendees. It seemed like in this lot, if one were to wear Jimmy Choos it’d be because they are good, quality shoes that’ll last, not because it’s something to boast to friends while sitting in your 5,000 square foot home one payment away from foreclosure.
Nothing seems to be done in an ostentatious way, just sophisticated and full of grace. It’s not about a carat diamond ring; it’s about the sentiment behind it. I could use a lot more weeks of taking notice like that in my life. Seems less about what you have and more about how you take care of it. I’ll take the moments over the material any day.
On Holiday
Still in vacation mode–or as the international crew I’ve just spent the past week with–still on holiday.
I promise to return next week loaded with stories.
Until We Meet Again
Photo courtesy of Hotel Stary; I’m certain our room there won’t be quite this nice.
I’m off this week for my dear friend’s wedding in Krakow, Poland. I’ll be joined by my love and my twin sister, for what I imagine to be a quick trip loaded with belly laughs, fantastic food and drink, plenty of catching up with old friends, and a much needed change of scenery.
Aż spotkamy się znów … until we meet again.
Postcards from Paris
It’s been said that Paris is a city you can discover over and over again. A place to relearn and return to.
It reminds me of that famous Ernest Hemingway quote:
If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.
I dream of Paris’s feast.
Until then, we get a glimpse of its charm through my friend Emily’s eyes. She’s made the return, after going in college some years ago. This time though, while in the midst of some life changes, she and a girlfriend bought the tickets on a whim with the hope that the Parisian art, food, and culture would refresh their perspectives—and so they took the ride.
This week’s travel piece is a postcard from the City of Light.
Écouter!
