The Road Trip Diaries: Miami, FL

10 October 2012 - Day One in Miami

We've just arrived. It is hot and sticky. The wind whips around us. Hot wind.

After dropping our bags off, and a quick freshen up, we head out to a nearby wine bar. The wine flows all night - especially for some of us. I hit the sack by midnight, but Husband and his cousin stay up until 6am, determined to see the sunrise. Turns out the sun only rises at 7.20am, and they just can't make it that far.

11 October 2012 - Day Two in Miami

It's our first proper sleep-in in ages. All this traveling has meant many early mornings for sightseeing, driving and fitting everything in. But we're in Miami for a few days, and can enjoy the luxury of a morning in bed. Plus, Husband is nursing a helluva hangover. Finally, I have to pull back his eye mask, and poke him (gently) in the ribs - it's nearly lunch time, and the clear skies outside are beckoning.

After a quick breakfast, we head to Soho House with Shelley, our wonderful host, and proceed to spend the ENTIRE day lying by the pool. It is excellent.

Unfortunately this Soho House is just like the Soho House in London, and they don't allow photos. But trust me, it was beautiful. 

The corridors through the hotel are wood-panelled, which creates a deep warm passage through the building. On the other side, we are met by an outdoor restaurant, filled with rustic mismatched furniture. It all feels quite weather beaten, but wonderfully so. We twist down the stairs, and end up by the swimming pool. It is long, crystal clear and flanked up palm trees. Miami is unseasonably windy, and the trees seem to be fighting with the breeze, pulled back and forth in each and every direction. 

We park off on the big blue and white striped beds, armed with an endless supply of towels, great big jugs of iced water and some good reading material. Lunch is meatballs and pizza, and a couple of Bloody Mary's for some in our party.

It looks just like you expect Miami to look.

12 October 2012 - Day Three in Miami

The morning is spent doing admin. Turns out my travel insurance has just expired, and I'm in dire need of some more. Being on a road trip will do that to you.

But boy, have we got big plans for the afternoon!

It takes a while for us to get started, and we finally hit the road after a satisfying tuna salad at the Italian deli on the ground floor of the apartment building. A short drive west of Miami, and we end up in the Everglades. 

We grab ourselves two seats on an airboat. There's a few other tourists on the boat with us, I can't help but size up who we would sacrifice first - should it come to that.

And then we're off! The wind pulls through my hair. We're headed straight for what looks like land - it looks like we're bound to collide. I brace.

And we glide straight over. That's the thing in the Everglades - it's impossible to tell the difference between land and water. If at a loss, assume it's water. It's 90% more likely.

The alligators lurk along the edges of the island. They don't seem to mind the roar of the blades of the engine, but sink beneath the surface when we get too close.

Our guide fills us in, through his missing teeth. His skin is red like a lobster, and perched up above us on the driver's seat, it feels like maybe he is king, of the alligators, of the Everglades, of us all.

We're lucky enough to see babies, warming themselves on a mud pile. Mom is not far off - I can almost feel her beady eye watching our every move. The babies are not more than 15cm long, striped and cute.

And we're even more lucky to get to hold a 3 year old alligator at the end. That was nerve-wracking!

13 October 2012 - Day Four in Miami

Beach day! The wind is strong, almost fierce, but the sun is out, and the beach is calling. We head back to Soho House, because the striped beach loungers, fresh cut watermelon, and vintage cooler boxes of water bottles and oranges are calling.

The wind is a sneaky little one though, keeping the heat off me, lulling us all into a false sense of security - soon tan lines start to appear, and redden. After an aptly named Dirty Burger (I have to keep it in its wrapper to stop it from covering me in all its delicious juices), we head back inside, and are soon on the streets of Miami. Saturday afternoon in South Beach is a traffic jam.

Florida has many South American influences, understandably. And you can feel it - in the streets, in the people, in the music. There's songstresses belting out Latino classics, there's rhythm and jive. It makes you want to tango, to dance, to leap.

Tonight we head to the Miami Art Walk - an event in Midtown Miami which happens every second weekend of the month.

The event is along a street which is lined by galleries, and each possible piece of wall is covered in graffiti. It's a sight for sore eyes.

The people were what made it so interesting. It was such a crazy, delightful, mind-expanding mix. And the fashions! Miami seems to be a place that has completely given itself over to being a vibrant, youthful, ever-changing beach town. And the people completely reflect that. The street was packed, the galleries were swarming, the food trucks were surrounded.

Oh, what? I didn't mention the food trucks? Shit. They were INCREDIBLE. In an old abandoned field, along the art walk, just after Panther Coffee Shop. These are the food trucks that I'd heard about - in whispers, on blogs, in secret circles where things that are good and cool and too good to be true are discussed.

Each truck sold something different - Mexican, Latino, health, pizza, pasta, and burgers burgers burgers. We picked Latino, and between us ate two pulled pork sandwiches, one portobello mushroom sandwich and one quesidilla. All were perfection. We then tried some frozen yoghurt from the frozen yoghurt truck - red velvet was my favourite - and then returned to the art walk!

The best bit? We still have a few more days in Miami!

[Map from Google Maps]

On The Road: Portland to Washington

4 October 2012

The highway stretches ahead of us. The rain patters on the wind screen. We've found a country easy listening radio station, which is bleating out the best in country-western. It's actually kinda fantastic.

We drive over a river, it is as wide as it is still. Like an endless looking-glass, a deep charcoal grey as it reflects the light grey sky above it.

It's quite exciting not knowing where we're going to end up this evening. We've got New Canaan in our sights - Husband taking inspiration from 'Ice Storm' the 1997 movie shot in the town. Apparently the town of New Canaan is one of the wealthiest communities in the nation. According to Wikipedia it was ranked 8th on the list of the top-earning towns in United States in 2011.

We cross state lines - Maine into New Hampshire, and a short time later New Hampshire into Massachusetts. For a part of the journey we're on the same route that we took north, then we swing inland, looping around Boston. 

Thank gosh for Daphne - our gps - who makes all of this so much easier. No maps, no confusion, no arguments about which way to go. Because Daphne is always right.

We drive into Connecticut.

We stop for lunch. Each gas station is packed with fast food chains - all the usual suspects. Luckily the one we stop at has a Fresh City, and we order two salads.

With Fall in the air, and the trees all turning, it seems Halloween fever has completely taken hold. There's pumpkin decorations everywhere you look, and all the stores - even the pharmacies have a row of Halloween-themed treats and costumes. I can't wait. Halloween has to be one of my favourite holidays of the year, and I'm beyond excited to be experiencing it in America this year.

New Canaan was beautiful. And packed with some of the most amazing houses I've ever seen. Husband and I did some house spotting. We decided it wasn't quite the right fit for our evening's accommodation though. Truthfully, after endless restaurant lunches and dinners, all we want is a hotel room, a pizza delivery and a bottle of wine.

We get back in the car, and continue to drive, listening to Glenn Miller - old people's music - but swinging. Such good road trip music actually.

We drive into New York state. The sky darkens. The clouds lower. Something big is coming our way.

And then it does. A torrential downpour like I've never seen before. Husband slows the car, we're inching along, following the lights on the car in front of us - it's all we can see. The roads turn into rivers in a matter of minutes. We're wading through it all.

After the rain, the sky finally begins to clear - we see blue for the first time in what feels like days. The blue soon turns to pink, the sun is setting. We get the tiniest of glimpses before it's back to the grey. The weather continues to be completely befitting of the landscape.

Husband has found another possible hotel for us - this one is called Bear Mountain Inn. It has mixed reviews, but we decide to take the risk. Just the drive up to it - through the mist, across the bridge, and to the stone lodge makes me excited.

And you know what? We found a winner. 

Leaving it up to fate worked out exceedingly well. Our room is huge, with two bathrooms and a lounge. It is the exact ideal of a mountain lodge. We get out the wine from our cooler bag, order pizzas and jump straight into our pjs. I never want to leave.

5 October 2012

Up early. The sun has finally come out. The hill out our window is bathed in sunlight.

Breakfast is cereal and custard rolls. And then a walk around the Bear Mountain lake.

Husband said he felt like we were Janet and Brad in Rocky Horror during the rain storm yesterday. I chuckle and chuckle. Mostly because there were times when I did feel like we could have died during that rain storm, and even more so because we didn't.

The sun shines brightly the whole day through, and we drive and drive and drive. There's no where on the map today that we want to stop, so we're just pushing on to our next destination. There's crazy truckers, and even crazier motorcyclists, and speed limits which no one else seems to even vaguely obey, but that we're too scared not to obey, just in case the coppers decide to kick us out of their big country.

The landscape changes. We're no longer flanked by endless trees, but now the land opens up on either side of the highway, revealing farms, endless farms. The land rolls with plantations, silos and barns. The sun hits it all at the perfect angle. Once again. It's beyond picturesque.

Daphne (yes, the gps) takes us all the way through Pennsylvania. We're headed for Maryland - Keedysville to be exact - and for another evening with family friends. This place is one helluva sleepy town.

Keedysville is completely farm town. Wood panelled house flank the street, not a fence in sight. Farms stretch out in the distance.

We arrive at the house and are welcomed by the hosts, who soon take us for a short walk down by the river. It's wonderful to hear some of the history of the area - and to find out about the Battle of Antigua, known as the bloodiest battle in all of America's history, with more than 20 000 soldiers wounded and killed. We drive through the exact fields where the battle took place. It's quite chilling.

We catch up on old stories, and head back to the house. A delicious chicken coq au vin for dinner, with fresh veggies and roasted potatoes - you can't beat a home cooked meal when on the road! We lap it up. The best part is spending the next few hours, around the table, chatting about back home, about life, about love and about where to from here.

Bed time finally comes, and I collapse, exhausted. Husband and I have gone through a bottle and a half of wine! My eyes drag shut.

6 October 2012

Time to hit the road. Quick shower and breakfast, and we're off to Washington.

Miles Covered: 683 (1099km)
Time Taken: 51h 30min

[Map from Google Maps]

The Road Trip Diaries: Portland, ME

2 October 2012

We checked into our hotel. It felt like we'd checked into Ireland. The Inn at St. John just feels that way. The welcoming lobby, the alarming amount of wallpaper, the skinny staircases, winding each and every way. Did I mention the floral carpets? The hallway is lined with them. It actually somehow works.

We drive to the harbour. The city is dark. Only a few twinkling lights break through the black skies.

We walk the streets. A cool wind blows off the water. Winter is coming. Portland used to be the northern-most harbour which would serve as Canada's main port during the winter months. The sneaky breeze whipping down the streets makes us think how horribly cold it must get here.

We walk past a few restaurants, checking their menus from the outside, waiting for our appetites to grow. We put our name down at one restaurant, and then find a little back alleyway. It's a row of quaint restaurants and pubs - all twinkle and gleam, warm and welcoming.

One in particular pulled us in from the outside - a cobblestone lane, wide windows through which you can see straight into the kitchen. The restaurant looks inviting - low ceilings, copper tables, mezzanine levels. There's almost nothing that holds us back. We cancel our reservation at the other table, and head on in.

Husband says he wishes I could take a picture of the smell. It's rich and warm, so much so that even the air feels creamy. We have front row seats - we could almost touch the kitchen. I can barely focus on my menu there is so much energy in the restaurant - overflowing from the kitchen. It's an incredible experience.

Husband orders the lobster linguine, I order the clams. Big steaming hot pans are put down in front of us. The wine is dry and sweet. The whole meal is sensational.

And then, of course, vanilla panna cotta with a blueberry sauce. Melt in the mouth. Soft, creamy, perfect. What a night.

 3 October 2012

We wake to the rain. Portland is wet. In fact, so far our experience of the upper east coast has been very damp. It leaves a chill in the air. We shower and head down to breakfast - which is continental, and ideal. A little bowl of Cheerios, a Philadelphia cream cheese bagel (shared with Husband) and fresh orange juice.

We decide that the weather is trying to tell us something, and spend the morning in the room, catching up on emails, blogs and Skype phone calls home.

After a purely luxurious day in the hotel - I'm blaming it on the rain - we finally braved the outside, and headed into the heart of Portland.

We were in search of a pub that had been twice recommended - and after a lot of searching we found it.

Novare Res was in an old brick building, hidden away, half underground. It was a typical beer hall-style pub, the long table and benches stretching prominently down the middle of the restaurant. The pub was quiet when we first arrived, and filled up surprisingly quickly once we we sat down. The menu was extensive, endless pages and pages of every kind of beer you could possibly possibly imagine.

I drank a big bottle of cider, Husband tried three different kinds of beer. We had a couple of 'tastes' - one small plate of tangy salami and creamy blue cheese. The bar was definitely worth it (thank you to our waitress in Cambridge, and to our friend Shannon for recommending it!).

After drinks we went in search of a place for dinner. The streets were wet, reflections glistening in the cobbled roads. Luckily we'd had a good look at a lot of the local restaurants last night so knew what we were after.

While we waited for our table - in the restaurant's lounge area - we met some nice Americans who said I looked like Kate Middleton - ace! It reminded me of this recent blog post I did about a very naked Harry.

We kept dinner light - two starters to share. First, the wood oven roasted Maine mussels, in a garlic almond butter; and then a beet fettucine hot salad with chargrilled brussel sprouts. Both were perfect dishes, and completely unique tastes. Another fantastic dinner.

But, as one tends to do after a light dinner, we walked around the corner to an ice-cream spot which had been highly recommended online. The ice-cream was almost indescribable. We tried the Chocolate Doughboy, the Moose Trail, and Peanut Cup. Three scoops between the two of us, which sounds like an easy-going portion. But this is America. It was as if each scoop was a bowl - no, a bucket - no, a truckload. I start to slur. This ice-cream has made me drunk. I'm giggling uncontrollably, torn between stuffing my face, and throwing up. There's just so much of it, and so much sugar.

Luckily, I stop our bingeing. We've got about two-thirds through our shared cup of ice-cream. No more! No more!

Home time, and bed time.

4 October 2012

Quick breakfast, and then time to hit the road. We've got far to travel today, and no real destination in sight. We decided to leave this one night to fate, and see what the roads bring us.

Restaurants in Review:

Street And Co.

33 Wharf Street  Portland, ME 04101
(207) 775-0887

Novare Res

4 Canal Plaza  Portland, ME 04101
(207) 761-2437

Fore Street

288 Fore Street  Portland, ME 04101
(207) 775-2717

Beal's Ice-Cream

12 Moulton Street Portland
(207) 828-1335

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The Road Trip Diaries: Woodstock, NY

28 September 2012

We arrived in Woodstock in the rain. Cloudy, drizzling, drippy. It makes the landscape even more appealing. Makes you want to curl up under a blanket, with a big cup of tea, in a cabin, in the woods. Which is exactly what we did.

The cabin is slate grey, big glass windows show only trees. We're surrounded. They reach for the sky, the leaves already starting to turn yellow and amber. For the most part, it's green. Intoxicating green, makes you breathe deep. Fresh, and wet. Two deer walk past the patio as we sit sipping our wine (post-tea, of course).

Beautiful cabins peek through the trees as we drive along the road. Glimpses of miniature white houses, all with triangular charcoal roofs. And then we reach the town. A whole strip of sweet shops and restaurants, all packed with tie-dye, incense, and ageing hippies. 

Woodstock can only be described as quaint. Very, very quaint. 

Dinner was a treat. An amazing restaurant, good wine and perfect company. A weekend away with family friends is the ideal way to begin this adventure. Training wheels for our road trip, as Husband says.

Restaurant in Review:
Cucina
109 Mill Hill Road  
Woodstock, NY 12498
(845) 679-9800

29 September 2012

We're sleeping in the loft room. Slanted wood ceiling, big white bed. Feels a lot like sleeping in a cloud. A big warm cloud. Muted light filters through the paper-like blinds. It's another overcast day. But at least it's stopped raining - for now.

Fresh croissants for breakfast. Big mugs of tea and coffee to beat the chill. We're off to market.

Market was a little bit more like a yard sale. Like a big yard sale. Like a big hippie yard sale. But fun nonetheless. There's trinkets and trash, and everything in-between. I'm sure there's even a few gems in there, but on a road trip budget I put my blinkers on and pretend I can't see any of it.

All wrapped up, it feels like we're heading towards winter at a fast and furious speed. I feel unprepared. My wardrobe feels unprepared. So I momentarily put aside my road trip budget and pop into a nearby shop and buy a squirrel hat. At least now my ears don't feel unprepared.

We then explored the area by car, stopping at a couple of galleries and a very big lake. The water reflects the sky - grey, pensive, bottomless. The green of the fir trees is so dark it looks like you could walk into that forest and never be seen again. It looks like world before man - completely uninhabited, completely forgotten, completely complete.

We stop at 'Bread Alone', a yummy lunch spot. Hello split green pea and ham soup. Creamy, green and delish. 

The rest of the afternoon is more lazy exploring. We happen upon 'Wok and Roll', a Chinese restaurant that features live rock acts. A cover band is performing all the classics. We order some sake, tuck ourselves under the porch and out of the rain, and listen to some rock. The whole audience is made up of us and a family of locals. It makes for an entertaining experience.

 I'm back on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, sipping wine (yes, more wine). Off to dinner soon.

30 September 2012

Sunday morning bliss. A quiet, slow start to the day.

We eat a late brunch. Delicious scrambled eggs, potato mix and rye bread. Once again 'Bread Alone' is a winner. A brisk stroll through the forest, up the mountain, back to the house, pack the car.

And we're off. One weekend in Woodstock done, it's time to hit the road again. Luckily from here it is only a hop and a skip to our next stop over. Good bye Woodstock, thank you for being a wonderful first time.

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