As much as I, myself, love to travel, I also love seeing people share their own travel adventures on social media. I love seeing their Facebook or Instagram pictures because, to me, it’s an instant window into their soul, into their interests, into a moment that was so unique or striking that they felt the need to capture it. Maybe it was a picture of the rocky edge of a mountain that seemed to rise all the way to the Heavens, or a picture of the unearthly turquoise colour of the ocean as they stood on its sandy beach, or maybe it was a food pic of the meal that was placed before them but, everyone of those pictures, a snapshot of a moment that resonated so deeply with them, that they wanted to share it with the world. I feel like I’m not just looking at a photograph but also connecting to that person through how they are experiencing the world in that moment and if that isn’t magic then damn, I don’t know what is. Keep traveling friends and keep sharing those moments of wonder, it’s incredibly inspiring.
Let’s get one thing straight right from the start, Belize is not Mexico. While many of their enticing attributes draw similar parallels there are yet big differences. Yes the waters in both countries are a beautiful turquoise color and can be as clear as the day is long, and the beaches are comprised of a lovely, white, soft sand but the amount of development, at least in the area where we were at, is years behind the level of development, and commercialization, of Mexico.
The first quick lesson I learned on our adventure was the possible inability to procure in Belize what we are so used to being able to get in the US, and in Mexico. So here’s what happened; on the way to the airport my husband wanted to stop and buy a carton of cigarettes at the convenience store but because I was worried about getting to the airport in enough time I hastened him from stopping. “You can just buy some when we get there” was what I said, but boy was I wrong and I got an earful about the deliverance of information with the authority of knowledge versus speculation when we discovered that I was very incorrect with that statement. That was rough, but a good lesson about speaking upon a subject with consciousness. Now, I think the lecture I got had a certain amount to do with the fact that getting to Belize, and the 2 hours standing in line to process at the airport were incredible stressors for him. Word from the wise… do not fly into Belize on a Saturday; the airport is very small and apparently Saturday is the busiest day for arrivals and departures so the wait time is astronomical. Fortunately, Nate was able to get some cigarettes, not his preferred type, but he got some nonetheless. This was a common theme throughout the places we went in Belize. There aren’t clothing shops for beachwear if you forgot a cover-up, the grocery stores were much smaller and maybe a little more primitive than we are typically used to, intermingling the food aisles with automotive products and the distinctive phosphorus smell of fertilizer. There are absolutely no chain fast food restaurants anywhere in Belize. My advice is, if you need it in Belize, you’d better bring it with you.
So why Belize then? Well let me show you.
Silk CayeMonkey River
From the landscape to the food, the offerings of Belize will inspire survival and adventure. Yes, there are punctuations of luxury, such as the “Castle House” AirBnB that we stayed at, but much of Belize is deeply rich in colour and flavor and texture, not common convenience. For us, it was a different experience than the typical, drinking-all-day-on-the-beach vacation but it totally piqued our senses of awareness and gratitude.
Not all dinners are a hit at my house and Nate wasn’t a fan of this one but I loved the recipe so I thought I’d share. I enjoyed how the tangy sauce offset the salt laden Alfredo but again, not everyone loved it. Anyway if you wanna expand your culinary expertise check out this quick and easy recipe.
Chicken Piccata Alfredo
4 boneless chicken breasts
1 cup flour for dredging
Salt and pepper
4 tablespoons butter
6 tablespoons preferred oil
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/2 cup chicken broth
1 teaspoon cornstarch
3 tablespoons cold water
3 tablespoons brined capers
1 jar Alfredo sauce
4 servings of your favorite pasta
Salt and Pepper to taste
Start water to boil for the pasta. Rinse chicken breasts, pat dry then salt and pepper both sides. Use flour to dredge chicken and set aside.
Heat 2 tablespoons of the butter and 3 tablespoons of the oil on medium heat for 2-3 minutes in a skillet. Place the chicken breasts into the pan and cook for about 3 minutes (4 if the breast is thick). Flip and cook again for another 3- 4 minutes. You can repeat the process at 2 more minutes on each side to increase crispiness or remove from pan and set aside. Add pasta to boiling water if you haven’t already.
Heat the other 2 tablespoons of butter along with the remaining 3 tablespoons of oil in the same pan (I like to do a quick scrape of my pan to remove any burnt pieces before hand though). Once the butter is melted add the lemon juice and chicken broth. Bring to a simmer. In another pan, heat the Alfredo over medium heat, or hell, just microwave it in the container! While the sauces are simmering; in a small bowl, add the 3 tablespoons of cold water and mix in the cornstarch until no lumps exist. Pour into the lemon and stock sauce. A gentle simmer with the cornstarch mixture added will slightly thicken the sauce in a couple of minutes but don’t leave it too long, you don’t want it to turn into zesty gravy. Remove pasta from heat and drain, toss with a few tablespoons of butter or oil to keep noodles from sticking together. Add chicken back to pan of picatta sauce and sprinkle capers over top. Toss the Alfredo sauce with prepared pasta. Salt and pepper to taste then enjoy! I served this main course of the chicken piccata poured overtop of a creamy layer of Alfredo sauced angel hair pasta, but it would add a wonderful zing to a side of garlic-mashed potatoes as well, so if pasta isn’t your thing feel free to try a different side.
Driving the Amalfi Coast was quite possibly the most iconic thing I have ever experienced.
Made famous as settings for some of the greatest films such as “Beat The Devil”, “Only You” and, my personal favorite, “Under The Tuscan Sun” most of the scenery in Amalfi is internationally recognized. Seeing it for myself, especially Positano, was a total must.
Getting there was insanely nerve racking. We decided to take the mountain pass and drive the coast back to Sorrento in kind of a loop but let me tell you that was one of the worst drives I’ve ever had to endure. Italian roads are impossibly narrow with death defying switchbacks raking the sides of cliffs. Add to that a thick fog covering the pass making visibility just a few meters and impatient, lead-footed Italian drivers honking their horns and passing you on hairpin, double blind corners and you have the perfect recipe for an in-car anxiety attack. I had already wrecked the rental in Sorrento the day before (twice actually), so I really don’t know where the stress was coming from but it all dissolved as the coastline appeared.
Atriani, Italy
Even on a cloudy day the beauty of the scenery was postcard perfect. The water was an indescribable turquoise. The sound of the waves crashing into the rocky cliffs below made a deep baritone “whump” that spoke with a personality indicative of Italian bravado. Even the sea was proud to be Italian.
I was probably the quintessentially annoying American tourist, gawking at everything and giddy with delight to traverse the cobblestone streets. Tamberlee and I perused the wares of countless leather and trinket shops; everything was original, handmade, nothing commercial. Only Made in Italy tags. Art was everywhere, even in the ordinary.
Almafi Cathedral
Before heading back towards Positano for dinner (an experience deserving an entire essay all it’s own) we went a little further along and finally decided to turn around at the little costal town of Minori.
Oh Minori was magical! We stopped at a little bar where the bartender hummed along to Imagine Dragons and made us drinks with basil leaves we watched him walk outside and handpick himself. We walked brick laid streets of tiny Mom and Pop shops where we were greeted everywhere with a “Bonjourno” and a little tip of the hat by old men. The traditional ideal of Italian culture made itself present in warmth and welcoming here.
On the way back to Sorrento, we stopped for dinner in Positano at a restaurant who had a guitarist serenading the customers, which I’ll write about later, and I nearly killed us by almost driving off the edge of a road that had slid out. Fortunately, not even that could put a damper on an otherwise completely amazing day!
Few words can describe the opulence and luxury of The Grand at Moon Palace so instead I’m sharing pics!
Gotta start with the rooms! It’s either a King or 2 double beds in Mexico, so if your married and didn’t get the King size room there’s a good chance you may decide to Lucy and Desi Arnez it because the full size beds are just a wee bit small.
Incredible bathrooms.
The “double suite”, left; whirlpool hot tubs in every room and balcony just beyond, right. Not pictured: in room XBox, generous bar with sodas and snacks for the kids replenished twice daily.
Mexico has some of the most idyllic beaches, or playas, in the world. With beautiful white sand that feels more like flour and warm, inviting turquoise waters it’s not hard to see why.
From wave riders and water parks to mini golf, bumper cars and arcades, to kayaking and catamaran sailing, even nightly entertainment shows; The Grand offers anything and everything you could possibly think of to entertain any age.
This spa is definitely awe-inspiring! Make sure you go an hour or more before your scheduled treatment so you can enjoy the sauna, ice room, chroma-therapy shower and of course, gorgeous pool and whirlpool.
Even the ladies rooms are exquisite.
Lovely chandeliers
Finally my favorite place, other than the wave rider or the beach, La Boulangerie; a French inspired cafe perfect for a stop and go latte or treat. I’m not a gelato fan but I can tell you from first hand experience, the crepes are fantastic!
Feel free to email or message me for more pictures or further details about our stay at the all-inclusive Grand at Moon Palace.
Who doesn’t love Top Golf? Literally no one! So we booked a couple of bays and golfed it up for Tyler’s birthday. This particular trip we had a couple of extra kids. Tyler’s (our oldest son) best friend Mason and Jason’s (our youngest son) best friend Pj.
Now Pj happens to be an athletic prodigy; it’s like this kid was designed for sports. Everything I’ve ever watched him play he’s a freaking superstar at so I was expecting him to be pretty good at the golf but what I didn’t expect was to watch him crush golf balls that hit the back net almost EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!! At the age of 15! He was like our own Happy Gilmore but younger, with less yelling and a swing that wasn’t so awkward, lol. Honestly, it was a thing of beauty and it left all our jaws on the floor. We quickly dubbed him “The Hammer” (which henceforth and forevermore he shall be known as to all that was on this trip), and tried to convince him to start running a hustle betting grown men that he could outdrive them. He didn’t go for it, but he let us call him The Hammer all weekend and when he entered his nickname at the go cart place I saw it typed out “The Hammer” on the screen and my heart soared a little.
Right or wrong, we went to Las Vegas recently. It’s been a little over 2 weeks since we went and no one’s gotten sick (yet!) so I figured I’d share what it was like to travel again.
Mask Up
In the mid-pandemic world, even if a place is “open” that doesn’t mean it won’t still have restrictions. Wearing a mask was pretty much an unspoken rule in public, and not just in hotels and casinos, but even walking the strip. About 80% of people walking the technicolour sidewalks of Las Vegas Boulevard were wearing a mask. Of course there was the occasional smoker who had traded the mask for a thin cigarette touching his lips or a Bachelorette group with long neon pink plastic cups that had straws inserted into their mouths instead, and the street showgirls, ornately clad in tiny gleaming outfits, forewent the mask wearing. However, most people just wore them. Some out of fear but, most I would say, more out of solidarity than anything. Every establishment had hand sanitizer dispensers at the entrance. Casinos had installed clear plastic dividers on the tables to help encourage social distancing. Some malls had a dedicated door person who spent the day wiping down the door over and over and over again with each passing visitor. If cleanliness is next to Godliness then Sin City never felt so Holy.
A gorgeous milkshake at Hard Rock cafe
An institutional bummer for Vegas in the current restriction-coded climate is the loss of the long standing sign of gluttonous opulence. That’s right folks, buffets are closed. And most restraunts are running on a limited menu, if not on limited staff as well. Wait times were nearly double from what we’ve experienced before and getting reservations was almost impossible. The easiest meal, honestly, was the one we had at the food court in the mall. Everyone was able to get whatever they felt like having and it was fast. Never underestimate the healing powers of a mall food court lunch. In fact it’s kinda one of our family’s travel hacks: the mall food court is a viable dining option. Sure, as someone who LOVES food, I’d go for finding the best restaurant for what I was feeling like in a place where everything great is at your fingertips, but with such a big family and so many different epicurean proclivities that isn’t always easy, or financially responsible. Food courts, however, usually have something that will appeal to even your most discerning child’s palate and is reasonably priced. So say what you will about this tacky hack, but slip it into your back pocket. It’ll rescue you when everyone is starving and the kids are fighting or pouting about where to eat.
Other than that, Vegas was still pretty much Vegas. There were a few other subtle nuances that I noticed, but for the most part Vegas remains the same. The lights on the strip still shine in colors so vibrant they defy the definition of neon. The Boulevard is still littered with expensive sports cars, even if they are merely borrowed and not owned. And the fountains still sing in tribute to the extravagance and ostentatious fun that Sin City has to offer. Under the mask it’s still the same Vegas, baby.
Nate loves the rush of fast cars and technical driving. And driving in Europe is an extreme sport in itself, so it would only make sense to put our lives on the line to combine the 2, right?? I wanted to take the Stelvio Pass from Italy to Switzerland so Nate could check out 1 of the highest recommended driving experiences for an adrenaline enthusiast and from there make our way over the Fruka Pass in Switzerland (as seen on TopGear and Goldfinger).
Unfortunately, my dumbass didn’t even think about checking when the roads opened. Which, I feel especially stupid about since I live in a state were several mountain roads have limited seasonal availability to traverse. While the Stelvio was open, the Fruka Pass would still be closed for another 2 weeks. Insert sad face emoji here. It was difficult, but due to my lack of planning, I decided to abandon the idea of Switzerland altogether. Driving the Fruka Pass was a must do but since that was out, Switzerland would have to wait. It’s not so bad though, now I have a reason to plan a trip to Switzerland, emphasis on the planning this time!
It’s been a year since Nate and I took the trip of a lifetime and spent 2 weeks in Europe. I never fully chronicled it on my blog; but as memories come up on Facebook I suppose that while I’m reminiscing anyway, now is a good time to put them on.
It was virtually impossible to sleep on the plane so when we arrived to Paris we were exhausted. Once at our hotel, I marveled at the Eiffel Tower from a distance and took the above picture but prefered a nap to venturing over to it right away. Nate and I awoke and went out just as evening began set upon the city.
Seeing the Eiffel Tower, a marvel of architecture, ingenuity and logistical engineering, at sunset and with my love was a magical experience. So magical, in fact, that I was completely unfazed by the persistent street vendors. It became apparent why Paris is called The City of Love. I absolutely loved strolling along the tree lined pathways either looking back up to the tower or peering over to the people gathered on the Parc du la Tour Eiffel lawns; some of them in romantic pairs leisurely sharing a bottle of wine, some in groups of several on a large blanket punctuating the air with laughter and some playing football on the lush green grass. Love was all around. The strangest sense of peace and wonder overtook me. I was in a totally foreign place and yet I felt so completely at home. It made no earthly sense but I vow to visit, or possibly even move, to Paris and see if the feeling was fleeting or destiny.
When in Rome right?! It’s no secret that weed is to Jamaica like what champagne is to France so why not indulge in all the country’s famous “high”lights.
When I visit a new place, I prefer an as authentic, but safe, experience of where I am as possible. So after porting in Jamaica, we bypassed the swarms of people loading into tour buses and hired a taxi for the day. Our driver’s name was Stone. He had to be pushing 60, was as skinny as a rail and spoke with a thick, beautiful Jamaican accent. 100 bucks and he was ours for the day.
Within 5 minutes we had some electric lettuce. Nate gave Stone $10 bucks and told him we wanted to try the Jamaican smoke but on our way through a seedy alley a guy selling Red Stripes 2 for $5 hooked us up with a spiff. Oh Stone was mad! “Ya don’t just buy weed from anyone mon!” he rebuked. We should’ve just let him get it, maybe we would have ended up with better quality stuff but oh well.
Jamaicans drive on the “wrong” side of the road. Stone was an incredibly careful, and slow, driver. He took us through, what should have been, an affluent neighborhood but nearly half of the houses were either abandoned or had been stopped mid construction. He pointed to concrete homes, all in various states of finish, and told us how they were being built for drug dealers. When they got busted the construction just stopped. Many of the houses had crude, makeshift scaffolding still up. All of the occupied homes, however, were beautiful. Either a caribbean coral or yellow stucco with white for trim and had mature orange or mango trees in the front yard. High up on the hill through the half-beautiful and half-tradgic neighborhood he stopped the little van and we got out to have that smoke.
The view from our smoke stop
The weed wasn’t great. It was just schwag and there was no pride in the craftsmanship of the joint. It had been either rolled too tight or hadn’t been broken up. I took 2 hits and got nothing from it. Nate smoked 1/2 the joint so he was feeling it but I think that was a case of quantity over quality. “High Nate” is probably my favorite version of him. I love him regardless but he’s so funny and carefree and even a little goofy. I love seeing him like that because he’s usually so composed and calculated.
Beach in Montego Bay
Can you really say you went to Jamaica if you don’t see Montego? I think not! There is litterally no better vibes than relaxing on Montego Beach in the hot sun, drinking Red Stripe beers, eating Jerk Chicken and listening to the DJ blast Shaggy while a thick Jamaican woman with the longest braids I’ve ever seen teaches a handful of 60 year old white women how to twerk. Definitely the most random day but also one of the coolest as well.
