Mom & Coop Ride Tandem

Just back from our recent fab Surfing trip to Sayulita with Coop, his pal Andrew and my pal Koko (a.k.a. Myrtle, a moniker we picked up for her while listening to a homespun radio program near the Myrtles Plantation in Louisiana.  I am Sue Ellen (pronounced S’willin, but that’s another story).

When we got back home, I couldn’t wait for Myrtle to send me all three thousand two hundred and eighty four pictures (nearly) that she snapped.  Got myself comfortable, and excitedly began to go through the images when the wave of nausea hit – I spied the first picture of me, a forty-something mom, cavorting on a beach in Mexico, bopping around as if I were Gidget, (though looking rather more like Gidget’s bloated, gravity-impacted grandmother Golda, with my 16-year old son, and an ever-increasing number of other sixteen to early-twenty-year-olds.

Yup, I was squarely bitten on my Brazilian bikini-covered ass by the ugly moral conundrum known as perception versus reality.  I can still feel the sting, though it has been slightly assuaged by the horrifying mortification of what my son’s friends must have thought of his mother clearly experiencing an “awkward stage” in her mid-life crisis.

The Highlight Reel of our Trip

Now, several days after the unfortunate and revealing incident, I am still left with a feeling of embarrassment and unease, though the,”goddamnit why can’t I”, justification sequence has started to kick in.  In my desperate rationalizations, I say to myself that I have always been the athletic mom; that Coop and I have spent every summer since he could walk, swimming and playing in the ocean – boogie boarding, body surfing, surfing.   When the big waves come (“outsiders”), I taught him to swim towards them, regardless of his fear or their size.  We spent two summers working on his conquering the fear of big waves, but he got it before any other kid his age.  And if we’re too late to get to the wave in time, and it broke on us, I taught him to dive down to the bottom and pick up a handful of sand as a way to take his mind off the fear while also staying out of what could be a powerful washing machine.

My conclusion?  No doubt the surf is our playground.  As I consider this, I realize that it is a sacred place that we have always shared – where we have grown up.  Together.  These times represent a celebration of summer, of spending time just the two of us, of the hot sun, of salty skin, of ice cream cones at 3PM, and an early evening swim before dinner when hardly anyone was left on the beach and none in the water, before we would each head into our respective locker rooms at the club, spend far too much time under a hot shower, get in warm clothes and stay down at the beach for Bistro dinner, when Stuart would come down and join us.  This was our Friday schedule for over 10 years.  And we loved it.

So, while there is clearly a pang of self-consciousness at my body’s total lack of cooperation and traitorous foray to the dark side of gravity, painfully evidenced in a bikini these days (note to self – possibly more conservative bathing suit selections in future), after careful consideration, I’ve decided “screw it” – the end justifies the means.  If Cooper actually wants me to surf with him – to continue as we have done for 16 years, and play in the ocean together, I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop now.

So…look for us back in Sayulita in a couple of weeks.  I’ll be the one hanging out (literally, most likely) with the group of 16 – 23 year olds, eyeing the breaks, chatting about God knows what, surfing with my kid for hours and hours at a stretch and occasionally reminding myself that I am having the time of my life.

Finish Line!

“The trouble with jogging is that the ice falls out of your glass.” ~Martin Mull

The moment I pack my suitcase for a journey, I am perfectly resigned about two things.  One – that I will not deprive myself of any gastronomic delight or opportunity to drink champagne while watching a sunset (or sunrise).  And two, possibly in response to one, I will pack my running shoes.

Beyond the obvious physical benefits, running in the morning while on holiday allows me to profoundly experience the soul of a place – through my soles, as it were.  Running through the streets before the sun has even risen is such a pure and intimate moment.  I gain more understanding of the local culture in this hour then often, in the entire journey.

But most certainly, the memorable upside of this cardio-excursion is the frequency of moments when you think to yourself, “If I hadn’t run, I wouldn’t have seen…”

…the elephant walking in the middle of a crowded boulevard in Phnom Penh on her way to her morning ablutions…

…the drag queens precipitously walking home from the all-night Mardi Gras party in Sydney, heels broken, make-up running and feather boas looking listless and slightly anemic…

…the street vendors shuffling their carts over the cobblestone streets in Florence, while the mist over the Arno gives way to streaks of salmon, pink and orange …

…the sound of the waves gently pounding the beach in Sayulita as surfers wade into the water, half-asleep yet ever-hopeful that today they will catch the perfect wave…

…the  elders, with their colorful umbrellas and spry joints practicing tai-chi in a small, peaceful park in the middle of Hong Kong.

Perhaps it’s the attainment of that elusive, thoroughly-addictive, mind-altering endorphin rush that contributes to the feeling of perfect peace that envelopes me when I run.  When on foreign soil, this experience can be transcendental, heightening my senses and connecting me to a culture in ways I never thought possible.  And on a more secular note, when I run while on holiday, I get to eat cheese.  And bread.  And dessert.

Following are 6 of my favorite routes that bring me eternal joy (and stronger legs) each and every time I have the opportunity to run them.

1. Hong Kong – Mid-levels/Victoria Peak

Lugard Road, Victoria Peak

If you’re in shape, good for you.  Run up to the top of Victoria Peak via the Old Peak Road.  Otherwise, do what I do, and take the funicular to the top.

At the top, take Lugard Road, the oh-so narrow road that circles the peak.  The homes are spectacular, nearly rivaling the panoramic view of the Harbour.  The jungle feel and dense foliage create an enchanted atmosphere in the early morning, with the fog firmly settled in.  What I didn’t expect, and I think those who haven’t been to Hong Kong wouldn’t expect as well, is that in stark contrast to the chaos that is Hong Kong, the back side of the island is dense forest as far as the eye can see.  It is this paradox – bustle and soul, that grabs you and for me, makes Hong Kong spectacular and totally unexpected.

Head back down the Old Peak Road, where you will pass some grand old Colonial homes in various states of disrepair, as if lost in time and taken over by jungle.   Head into  Soho (in this case, South of Hollywood), and stop for a coffee at any number of delightful cafes on Staunton Street. 

Tip: When running down through Mid-Levels, its a kick to get onto the escalator, which looks like a habitrail, on its morning one-way-only route down into town.

Tip #2:  DO eat at The Peak Lookout restaurant on Victoria Peak.  The ambiance is romantic – tables set outside on the deck, trees festooned with fairy lights – Sinatra playing quietly in the background.  You will seriously wonder what year it is.  And when the fog begins to creep in around 9:00 PM, it is absolute magic.

Sydney Botanic Gardens - My Vortex

2.  Sydney

When I found myself frequently questioning the Gods as to why I had jumped ship from my normal life in L.A. and regrouped in Australia…when the fear and anxiety threatened to send me into yet another panic attack of titanic proportions, I would put on my running shoes and head to the Botanical Gardens.  If it weren’t for this spot and for Crowded House, my constant and singular musical companions, I’m not sure I would have made it.

I like to start the run  just under the Sydney Harbour Bridge.  Run through the Rocks towards Circular Quay.  Follow the Quay to the Opera House and then into the Botanical Gardens – follow the path to Mrs Macquarie’s chair carved into a block of stone.  This is where she used to sit, admiring the view  and waiting waiting waiting for her husband, Governor Macquarie to return from sea.  This is a very special place for me – religious, really.  Sometimes I would have to wait for people to enjoy it before I could take my turn to sit.  But I always sat, willing Elizabeth Macquarie’s spirit to protect me and guide me through a difficult time.  I have no doubt she did.

Continue back through the Botanical Gardens (stop to smell the roses!) to Macquarie street, past the Parliament House of NSW, then into Hyde Park, up Oxford Street to Centennial Park, where you could get lost for days.  Run back, or better yet, wander around Woollahra and Paddington and head to the Elephant Bar at the Royal Hotel in Five Ways and have a glass of Veuve.

Tip:   If you time it for a Saturday, you may catch the famous Paddington Market on Oxford Street.  Great art, clothes, decorative things, leather goods – I have found many unusual goodies here.

3. Santa Monica

Santa Monica Stairs - Glute Hell

So many great places to run in this area.  Along the beach past the Venice Boardwalk to the Marina.  Along Ocean Avenue, with its palm trees and gorgeous ocean views.  We all have our favorite routes.  I’m partial to running along San Vicente Blvd, probably because I grew up in Brentwood, and have run this street to the beach, with its grassy median, all of my life.  Alone, with friends, with my dogs, with one of my mom’s husbands (#2) and of late, with my AIDS group in training for the Florence marathon.  An added bonus, if you take it all the way to Ocean Ave and hang a right on Adelaide, you can have the distinct yet painful pleasure (no pain no gain) of doing the famous “stairs” that descend the hill to West Channel Rd.  Your glutes will thank you.  Tip: If you take San Vicente back into town from the beach, stop at the famous red Brentwood Country Mart on the corner of 26th and San Vicente.  When you go through the doors, you’ll come into an interior patio with a wood burning fire pit that has been there as long as I have been around. (It’s old!)  They still do a mean cheeseburger and you can eat around the fire pit.  Divine!

Anse de Saline - Starting Point

4. St Barths

OK – THIS is a tricky one, and not for the inexperienced runner.  St Barths is Hilly with a capital H.  H-squared, really, if you count Heat.  Not to mention the fact that the roads are narrow, windy and steep – a calamitous scenario for drivers, let alone those of us trying to get some exercise while along side of them.   My cousin Doug has sussed out the best running route (bearing in mind the island is only 8 square miles).  He starts at Anse de Gran Saline and heads inland, where there is only a little grade and more importantly, a larger road with grass alongside.   This gently slopes up as you come to the fork in the road, where you veer left towards Lorient. Hit the beach in Lorient, turn around and head back to Saline, where you can have an amazing breakfast at Le Grain de Sel.  Honestly, this is about the only place I can think of, other than past Toiny along Grand Fond, that is relatively flat and where you don’t risk getting taken out by a Suzuki Jimny driven by a tourist with a death wish. 

Tip #1:  Run in the morning – it can get really baking hot otherwise.

Tip #2:  If one wanted to finish one’s run at Anse de Gran Saline and one were of the mind to take a quick swim in that glorious ocean in the buff, one could do so here.  Of course, I couldn’t comment on that.

5. Phnom Penh

Sambo on her way to a bath

The key here is to get up really early to do this run – around 5:30 AM,  so that you can end up along the river  in time to see Sambo on her way to or from her morning ablutions.  It’s quite a sight.  We stayed at the Pavilion Hotel (only place to stay – hands down), so I would start from those welcoming gates, hang a left to Street 240, make a right and head down to the river.   Definitely do a quick circle around Wat Batum where you can see the Achy Breaky Dance Group doing their best Billy Rae Cyrus routine, totally bizarre in every way.  Head north (er, west) via Sisowith Quay, past the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda, past the FCC, and take a left and head back up into town.  Get back to the hotel, jump into the pool and then stake your table around the pool for what is one of the best breakfasts ever.

Tip:  While running Street 240, stop to window shop at Jasmine Boutique – you will lose your mind.  Unbelievably gorgeous silk clothes with a contemporary point of view.

Running in Firenze while Jules hams it up

6.  Firenze

Having successfully completed a marathon in this fair city, I can say without hesitation that I did not like running in this otherwise agreeable town.  Cobblestones, quite frankly, are hell on the ankles.   Still, a route along the Arno on the Lungarno Corsini from the Palazzo Corsini past the Ponte Vecchio up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, with the most amazing view of the city, is not too taxing, and completely worth the journey.  Heaven. 

Tip:  Don’t even try to run in town around the Piazza della Signoria or the Palazzo Vecchio. If the cobblestones don’t kill you, trying to weave your way through the throngs of tourist will.  Not worth it!

Happy trails!

The essence of St Barts

I am lucky to have spent a lot of time on St Barts.  People are always surprised when I describe it as a low-key, soulful destination.  Particularly at this time of year when we are inundated with photos of the latest celebrity “it couple” cavorting in their barely-there bathers on one of the twenty-odd pristine beaches of St Barts, giving credence to the over-the-top hype that does such a disservice to this chic, understated island paradise. Not since “put another shrimp on the barbie” has a stereotype been so devastatingly incongruous with the true nature of a place.  As I write this, my gag reflex is going spastic at the thought of Lindsay tweeting herself in a bikini on a yacht in Gustavia Harbour, or of Avril and her new boyfriend skulking around St Jean with their tats and cadaver-colored skin looking like they’ve seen the inside of a few too many rave tents.

Unfortunately, these are the images that often steal the thunder of what is possibly the most mellow island in the Caribbean. And herein lies the paradox that is St Barts – a sleepy, laid back  little island community with a juiced-up, high-rolling reputation for bravado and excess. To get a sense of the true  St Barts, we must first separate the man from the myth; recognize where the identity of the island ends and the image of the clientele begins.

Caveat Emptor: It’s probably important to mention at this point that every traveler has a unique vision of what they are looking for in their vacation experience.  As such, the view expressed here will not appeal to everyone. As I have written previously (ad nauseum), I have three constants that I base my travel philosophy around – chic, comfort and affordability – the trifecta of a memorable travel experience – with a little adventure thrown in to keep things interesting.  While an American Express black card is certainly a handy travel accessory here, St Barts does not have to be funded by deep pockets to be enjoyed. This I can speak to first hand.

Eden Rock

St Barts is known for its beauty – that’s a universal gimme.  The landscapes are extraordinary.  The beaches are legendary.  It’s not for nothin’ that the Rockefellers and the Rothschilds set up small compounds on the island (at opposite ends, funnily enough).  And yes, there is an unmistakable air of affluence, but it is not an in-your-face Miami Beach or even St Tropez kind of vibe.  Rather, it’s an understated chic with a really warm energy and smooth Bohemian aftertaste.  Very French and very approachable.  I remember the first time I came to the island I saw a small group of some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen – locals – just naturally stunning, looking effortlessly chic as always,  with their tanned skin, flowy cotton peasant shirts and cool vibe, sitting on a wall smoking a joint.  Right in the middle of Lorient.   I responded strongly to their aesthetic,  but on a more primal level, to the freedom and ease with which they clearly lead their lives.

Not surprisingly, St Barts has a well-documented history of attracting a confluence of artists, musicians, writers, eccentrics – people who long to go off-the-grid in an environment that values privacy and artistic expression.  This may well be the key to the vibe going on in St Barts.  The locals seem to understand their brand very well, and work diligently to maintain that mellow status-quo that acts as a lightening rod for those looking to buy indulgences and throw wads of cash against salvation, if only for a week or two. According to Ron Berthnal of Traveler Writer’s Magazine, the locals have been able to maintain this atmosphere, “by keeping prices high, the airport small, and by not selling building permits to the highest bidder. They are presently fighting a Burger King franchise that wants in, and are raising passenger port charges to keep cruise ships out.  Bruno Magras, the current mayor of St Barts, can trace his island ancestors to the 17th century. He vows that the island will never become another Caribbean mass tourism destination. ‘There is always a thin line between development and exploitation,’ Mayor Magras said. ‘We are such a small island, with limited space, so we must be very careful with our resources and tourist levels.’”  As you would expect, buying into Heaven doesn’t come cheap, but the result is that when you are on the island, as if in Heaven, you have a sense of looking down upon the rest of the world, poor, downtrodden souls caught up in the mayhem that is real life, seemingly miles, even lifetimes away.

St Barth Style

Speaking from personal experience, we felt this vibe instantaneously – no meditation or tuning-in required.  The first time we came to  St Barts was for my cousin Doug’s wedding – a glorious occasion in and of itself.  Stuart flew in the day after we arrived, having traveled all night and coming off a particularly hairy conference.  As God is my witness, I watched him disembark from the teeny Air Caribe plane, still wearing his business suit, and literally saw his shoulders drop, and all the tension slide right off of them.   On all the trips we have taken and all the stunning destinations we have visited, I have never seen him respond to something so quickly, so instinctively.  In the minute that it took him to climb down those plane stairs, his body and attitude were as relaxed as someone on their second week of the most fabulous, relaxing holiday ever.  I found this transformation remarkable and have frequently shared that story.  For Stuart especially, St Barts retains that magic each and every time we visit.  Its like mental medicine for him, and as the selfless, ever-obedient wife, I try to make sure he gets a good dose as often as possible.

In terms of practicalities, the most critical decision concerning St Barts is when to visit.  Rule number one – never, NEVER go in high season.  I would sooner run stark naked and blindfolded through a cactus field than set one foot on St Barts during the high season months.  True to its history of being a refuge, we go to St Barts to escape the maddening din of the crowd and to reconnect with good friends – locals whose jobs are tourism focused.  Holidaying in high season would not only make it impossible to achieve the travel experience we’re after, but it would undoubtedly cramp our socializing time with friends who mean too much to us to short shrift the already limited time we are able to spend with them.

Certainly, from a budget standpoint, there is absolutely no value in descending on the island during the months of January through March.  Villa and hotel prices high season are at least double the low season rates.  We like to go in October or November – low, low season when the island is practically devoid of tourists and the locals are just returning from their annual pilgrimages to France.  Weather isn’t really a consideration – there’s not a whole lot of variation – it’s generally somewhere between fabulously warm and fabulously warmer.  Rain comes and goes throughout the year, never in any appreciable volume.  Hurricanes are generally paid to spin well away from the island, with the odd exception actually touching down on the privileged shores.

So, the only real consideration of traveling off-season is that some restaurants and stores will be closed until early November.  Certainly not the vast majority, but it is something to keep in mind.  The last time we were there was in October, which was divinely quiet.  It was a huge treat for Stuart to have his buddies meet us at the airport and whisk him away to a bar where the Rugby World Cup was playing and he could settle in with the locals to cheer on France and reconnect in a testosterone-bonding way.

View of Marigot Bay

In terms of accommodation, look into renting a villa, which honestly can be found to work within most budgets.  Again, the key is low season.  There are several agencies that specialize in villa rentals.  We book with Ici et La and have always had a really good experience using them.  We have stayed in Vitet, Marigot and St Jean and still haven’t decided which we love best.   Vitet and Marigot are residential and a little more remote.  Vitet is situated higher on the mountain, so a little more private with views to take your breath away, as can the steep driveway to get to the house.  Marigot is closer to the water, and still feels somewhat removed from the hustle and bustle.  Author’s note:  Privacy is important to us, as being naked noodle is more or less our modus operandi while on a tropical holiday.  Therefore, we seek out houses with either distance or high walls in an effort to spare anyone with a heart condition or small children who may unwittingly catch a glimpse of our lily-white selves.

The last time we visited we tried something different (budget conscious) and stayed at a fabulous little hotel with individual mini-villas called Village St Jean.  Situated just up the hill from St Jean’s main drag and beach, it’s an easy walk to be right in the thick of things.  St Jean is a centralized town and main hub, with a killer beach, excellent restaurants and truly great shops.  There are a couple of apartments that rent for very reasonable prices, as well.   Les Terrasses de St Jean, which runs about $1470 for a week in low season and Les Jardins de St Jean, about $1450. Information on both can be found on Ici et La’s website, as well as a multitude of other properties to suit specific tastes and budgets.

I love St Jean.  Truly.  And I find that I never really need to venture out of St Jean – everything I want is right there, within an easily-navigable square mile.  With its sandy sidewalks, great selection of restaurants, hip boutiques, completely drop-dead stunning beach and happy  mellow vibe, I can quite easily amuse myself for days.  There’s also a distinct advantage to staying in town, particularly in consideration of the roads, which are tricky enough to navigate sober, let alone after a bottle of wine.

In terms of local restaurants, the Hideaway is always popular and reasonably priced.  Andy, the tall Englishman owner, will generally greet you by name, as he frantically dashes back and forth among the always-full tables.  Right next to Andy’s is another great option – the best take out chicken on the island – cheap and cheerful, just how we like it.  Famous Nikki Beach is right across the street, and an ideal place to go for lunch, or for a night cap.  The techno music signals a good time, and the crowd, true to form, is hip and impossibly gorgeous.

Lunch at La Plage, Tom Beach

Just up from Nikki is our personal fave place to spend a day on the beach – the Tom Beach hotel.  More accurately, parked on a lounger in front of La Plage – their groovy, right-on-the-beach , totally Boho chic restaurant.  Here, you can easily pass the day while making only the slightest suggestions of movement; forward into the clear, turquoise water of Baie de St Jean or backwards to the funky outdoor restaurant strewn with comfortable pillows and enchanting staff for a delicious lunch over a bottle of Rosé. Rent a lounge chair and just plant yourself – people watching never disappoints and as with all beaches on the island, tops are absolutely optional.

Also worth mentioning is the fact that St Barts has a few really good, well-stocked markets.  When you arrive, it’s customary to pick up your Jimny and hop across the street to the superstore to provision your villa.  Food prices at the stores are pretty typical by island standards.  As another St Barts visitor has mentioned, the three cheapest things on the island are booze, cigarettes and gas.  Not so bad.  We have a fondness for L’Oasis, the little market in Lorient, but regardless, food is plentiful and fresh.  Cooking is an excellent way to save some money.  And somehow, fuffing around someone ELSE’s fabulous kitchen takes the sting out of the fact that you are actually cooking on your holiday.  But you will see – by the second visit to St Barts, you will enjoy cooking because it will be for guests – friends you have made on the island who are happy to see you, regardless of your cooking ability.  Admittedly, I am NOT the best cook, but what I lack in talent I more than make up for in presentation and sell-in ability.  A little flourish goes a long way.

Do Brazil, Shell Beach

Having said that, you won’t want to miss sampling some of the restaurants.  Just know that meals with wine will not be inexpensive.  Some restaurants we like that are pretty moderately priced by St Barts standards:  Hideaway in St Jean, La Mandala, Buccaneer and Le Vietnam restaurant, all in Gustavia.  Two absolute musts are Do Brazil (tree house chic meets the beach) on Shell Beach and Le Grain de Sel in Saline, where frequently you can catch sight of the local celebrity, a gentle iguana – called Josephine the last time we were there – who likes to mingle with the guests, scare the beejeezus out of them, and receive scraps of food in return.  Incidentally, Grain de Sel is an excellent breakfast spot with the best hot relish/sauce I have ever tasted.

In addition, there are a number of takeaway places that offer everything from pizza (Le Bouchon in Lorient) to gorgeous nibblies and sandwiches (Mayas To Go, by the airport).  Grab a bite and a bottle of wine, and picnic at any one of the umpteen beaches – knock yourself out.  Certainly the best deal in town is at Le Select, the famous bar in Gustavia and inspiration for Jimmy Buffet’s famous song, “Cheeseburger in Paradise”.  Here, you can get a beer and a burger for less that $10 while meeting a lot of interesting and colorful characters.

Another key thing to know about St Barts is that you must rent a car.  Car rental is not expensive, but it is mandatory if you want to get out and explore.  You don’t need a special license, just a strong spine and shock-proof kidneys.  Most people rent jeeps as the 4WD can be a major bonus when navigating the many steep roads.  (The airport rental lot looks like a Suzuki Jimny dealership).  Driving on St Barts is a bit like Mr Toad’s Wild Ride.  The roads are bumpy, curvy, unexpected and a little scary. I made the mistake the first trip and rented a manual Jeep – something I was really excited about, as I don’t get the chance to drive a stick at home.  Word to the wise, when you are driving up a narrow mountain road with a sheer drop on one side and you have to turn around, you better know how to work a clutch like a pro or you will blow it out as quickly as you can say, “Merde!”

Exploring the island is a must.  There are so many different beaches to

Le Select

experience and different vibes to the island.  There is something very strong on the southeast side of the island, just past Toiny – an energy that is palpable.  Combined with the stark landscape, it is a place that frequently draws me.  From here, following the beach road, you veer into the central part of the island, where farms and homesteads of the locals hearken back to the tradition of the Breton and Norman settlers.  Get out of the car and walk around – wine taste and take in the atmosphere. It’s unlike anywhere else on the island.

Definitely also take a trip to the northwestern side of the island, which I find very different and just a bit unsettling.  Here, the topography is definitely more stark and arid, and the population much less touristy.  Drop into Corossol, a little village where you can really get the flavor of the culture and traditions. Here you can see local women, dressed in traditional starched white bonnets known as quichenottes (a corruption of “kiss-me-not”), selling homemade baskets and hats in the markets.  Check out Flamands Beach while you’re at it.  Anchored by the award-winning Île de France Hotel, the beach is expansive and the water is glorious.  And while you’re at it, make sure to check out Gouverneur Beach, as well.  While smaller than Flamands, it is a hidden little gem, and generally not a bit crowded.

Continuing further north, er west, you will eventually wind your way to Colombier, the end of the line.  Situated high atop a hill, the view of the sea and surrounding islands is worth the trip alone.  There is a great hike down to a beautiful, secluded beach.  I like to do the hike in the morning, (since running steep hills in the sweltering heat tends to suck the lungs right out of my throat).  Rarely have I come across anyone on the trail or on the beach.  (Remember – this is low season).  The sense of isolation is intoxicating, if the slightest bit eerie.

Colombier Beach & Rockefeller Compound

From the beach in Colombier, if you look up to the left, you will see what remains of the Rockefeller compound.  I believe it is uninhabited, but gazing at it, with its 360-degree view of the surrounding ocean, I can imagine how fabulous the lifestyle must have been all those years ago.  Truthfully, it’s a bit creepy to see an empty compound purposefully placed, no doubt, at the end of a promontory, solitary in its isolation with only the odd sailboat moored in the little bay below to add any variation to the landscape.

The Grape Cluster

Finally, speaking personally and enthusiastically, a trip to St Barts is not complete unless you pick up a Tahitian pearl necklace from my absolute, hands-down favorite store on the island, if not the planet.  If you like big fat, silvery-blue Tahitian pearls, you must head into Bijoux de la Mer.  You will lose your mind.  Here, you will likely meet Marie or her mom, Maryvonne, who designs the coolest Boho chic pearl jewelry I have ever seen.  Ever.  EVER.  These are the loveliest people and their products – gorgeous Tahitian pearls, shells and sea glass, are all strung onto leather cords – either individually, as in a lariat, or in multiples, as in a gorgeous cluster of grapes.  I do not take off my pearl choker – ever – and wear my grape cluster necklace all the time.  The style is so distinct that wherever I go in the world, people comment.  Word of warning though – plan ahead as these pieces of pearl art – which they truly are – do not come inexpensively.  It might not be a bad idea to drip-feed a couple of drinks first – Le Repaire is right next door – before entering the establishment.  In my experience, a Bloody Mary or two is an essential shopping accessory.  And once the transaction is complete, I like to head over to Le Select and magnanimously buy my husband a $2 beer while preaching my newly-inspired plan to live within my means.  I see this as creating balance in the universe.  Stuart goes along with it because he’s that sort of a guy.

Last but not least, do make an effort to get to know the locals.  Don’t let the fact that you may not speak French get the better of you.  These are not snooty people – they will not scoff if you mispronounce a word.  Indeed, getting to know the locals is the best way to tap into the island’s soul and make your return visits even more special.  Our first trip, we had the great fortune of meeting Vincent Chevalier and his business partner Jimmy Daltry.  They own Premium IV, which provides anything and everything you need when visiting St Barts. They are two of the hardest working guys on the island, and also two of the nicest – genuinely good guys.  We hire Premium IV to assist us in transiting from St Maarten to St Barts and back – a service worth its weight in gold, particularly when planes heading back to the states are backed up and people are being bumped at an alarming rate.  Premium IV’s influence is far-reaching.  Trust me, you will be on that flight.  They handled my cousin’s wedding, those now three years ago – and seamlessly pulled off an incredibly ambitious and action-packed five-day event for 40+ people.  Seamlessly!!!  And always with a smile and a moment to sit down over a beer and shoot the breeze.  I strongly recommend their services – the fact that they are also totally charming is a bonus.

Happy in St Barts

So – that’s how we were able to blast past the myth and find the true soul of St Barts.  Venturing onto these laid-back, tropical shores is an incredible experience – life-changing, many say.  We look forward to returning and reconnecting with all things good in this world.

Post run and piercing

What better way to kick off the new year than a seven-mile run on the beach?

I mean – why not take advantage of the mild climate that is the envy of all Rose Parade viewers around the world?

That’s exactly what we did.

The gorgeous beach, colorful characters and market stalls that line up along the Venice Boardwalk make a perfect backdrop for a run.  There’s always something slightly off-beat going on to keep your mind pleasantly distracted.  Plus, with all the pot smoking on the boardwalk, you get the additional perk of a contact high.

Our route starts in front of the Casa del Mar hotel and heads south, past the Venice boardwalk to the Venice Pier.  Left on Washington and quick right on Ocean Front Walk.  Go down past all the alphabet streets, with their sailing names (Fleet, Galleon, Hurricane, Ironsides, Jib, etc.) to the very end, which is the Marina del Rey channel.  This is your 3 1/2-mile mark.  Pause to have picture taken to document to the non-believers that you actually got out of bed and exercised, and then turn around and head back to the Casa del Mar.

Sidewalk Cafe - Venice Boardwalk

When you’re done, there are many many places to stop and have brunch (without feeling like you have to change your clothes).  One is the C&O Trattoria on Washington, which serves mimosas by the pitcher (ideal for sore joints).  The Fig Tree Cafe right on the boardwalk, is another great place for brunch.  We bypassed the always huge line at The Sidewalk Cafe and made a bee line for the bar, which always seems to have a couple of seats free, has a view of the boardwalk and full menu.   Finish up the experience with a walk through the market stalls on the boardwalk, where you can have your chakras read, your nose pierced (I did) and pick up that all-important box of Nag Champa incense – my fave.  A perfect way to start the new year, and a great run anytime!

Nag Champa Incense

November 2008

We have just returned from a fantastic week in Sayulita where we booked Casa Cumpleanos, an ideal home on the north side of Sayulita.  I’ve noticed several posts about bringing teens to Sayulita and about rental homes, and thought our experience might be helpful, if slightly long-winded.

We took our 15 year old son and 16 year old French daughter to Sayulita last week.  We had debated between Sayulita and San Pancho, and ultimately chose Sayulita thinking the kids would have more options and thus, the parents wouldn’t be nagged constantly when we are also trying to decompress!  One visit to San Pancho absolutely confirmed my decision – they would have felt like Robinson Crusoe there – way way way too isolated.  And do NOT go to the Costa Azul Adventure Resort – not with teens at least.  Creepy vibe and really dated place – but that’s another story.

Honed in on Casa Cumpleanos because of its north Sayulita location (remote without being too much so, and beautiful, frankly) and lush grounds.  Key things to me.  We are not big fans of those homes that are all deck and high stories with no land.  We can get that here (LA), thanks.  We want lush tropics.   Casa Cumpleanos – first off – has incredible grounds.  We’re talking lawn, fantastic pool and jungle (with a bridge) that the kids thought made the place uber cool.  There is even a smaller backyard area with an outdoor kitchen.  C’mon!

In addition, there is a guest house where you can throw a kid, although definitely an older one that is OK with the idea of being separate from mom & dad at night as it is a bit of a distance from the main house.  While older kids would no doubt love the space, mine were a bit too young for the guest house on their own, but not a problem at all as they bunked together in the 2nd bdrm. in the main house, which worked out perfectly for us.

The house is about 1 min walk to the beach – but still has the good views (especially from the top terrace), so don’t let the fact that its not ON THE BEACH stop you.  Super easy for the kids to meander down to the beach, including the fun of crossing a little stream over a make-shift plank/bridge, and frankly, close enough to hear their screeches (apologies to anyone in the area last week – my daughter is verrrrrry loud) as they frolicked on the beach.  Note: definitely must have an adult with the kids on this beach, though.  Rough water.

In addition, the location is just far enough from town to feel you are remote, but if you want to jump into the car (i recommend a car for sure – this was another debate) to pick up dinner from the Sayulita Cafe or go into town and check out the action, or go to the beach, its a fast and fun experience (lots of potholes – a huge kidney-shattering scream for the kids, often requiring military precision to avoid some of the muddier or deeper crevices).

Another plus – the entire upstairs is the main bedroom, or as we called it – THE PARENT-ONLY ZONE – including a fabulous – I mean fabulous-with-views-for-days – private terrace.  Kids were not granted access upstairs, allowing us to sneak up for a quiet cigarette or strictly-medicinal glass of wine before returning to the cacophony of ipods, taunts and splashes that seem to accompany our children wherever they go.  That luxury alone was worth the price of admission.

The house is funky and maybe a little rough around the edges, but in our house, we call that character, (ramshackle chic, actually) and with kids, that’s exactly what you want.  Trust me – the details are there for parents with a penchant for good pieces of art and furniture, so not to worry.  Kitchen is well-stocked with everything you need – stacks of plates, bowls, utensils, glasses (plastic, glass, wine and tumblers, shot and oversized margarita), pots & pans, serving dishes and utensils.  This is a family house that is actually functional, practical AND chic.

Another bonus for us was the outdoor bathrooms – OK – who doesn’t love these?  In fact, much of the bottom floor of the house, while  covered, was outdoors – which lends completely to its charm.  Once the kids grasped the concept that the gekkos weren’t going to jump onto them while they were showering (or worse – on the toilet), they loved using the bathroom, and showers became endless (sorry for the water bills – and admittedly, we were all guilty of the experience).  We didn’t have any problems with bugs or critters while hanging out in the outside lounge area – keep the bug spray handy, though.

Another bonus about Casa Cumpleanos is Bella, your go-to  gal Friday and all around amazing cook for those evenings when you are oversurfed so too tired to cook, and don’t feel like going out.  Bella will ask you what sounds good to eat, and will go off and do the shopping.  The nice thing, versus other ways it can be done, is that Bella cooks the meal at the house – rather than cooking it at her own home and bringing it.  That gave us an opportunity to chat, learn some cooking tips, and take part in the process.  We didn’t have Bella cook every night, but our best meals that trip were prepared by Bella.  Her chicken tacos, rice and chille reillenos (sp) could bring me to tears, even now.

Sayulita is a great place to visit.  There is a tremendous amount of things to do both with and without teens.  And Casa Cumpleanos is a home away from home, making the entire experience very comfortable.

Casa Cumpleanos – http://www.sayulitalife.com/cump/reservations.htm

Casa Cumpleanos - view from the pool

August 2007

Booked into the KiiKii for a 2-week stay while volunteering in Raro with my 13-year old son. Prepared for the worst, based on reviews, so booked into Oceanview room – Room 17 – corner room, ground floor. Ok – its not the Ritz, but it is charming, if a bit worse for wear. Cons – paint peeling, tiles chipped off counters and showers, maintenance not so great, pool very small, not a swimmable beach. Pros – ramshackle charm, lovely staff, location not far at all from town, beach views spectacular, cozy, homey feel. Our room opened via sliding glass doors onto 2 sides – the sea on one and the pool on the other. Patios on each side. Great plus. Functional kitchen with stove and fridge, lots of light. No frills – no swim up bar or beach restaurant (no restaurant, actually), but you can walk about a minute to Club Raro next door for that stuff, so who cares. Good value for money – we’d stay again in a second.