Where Will You Go When the World Starts Turning Again?

2020: The year travel-hungry wanderlusters were forced into hibernation. For someone like me, who lives to plan trips — even for other people — and needs an upcoming vacation to feed my soul and drive me through the daily doldrums, the pandemic has been difficult. To put it very mildly. I, like many of my fellow travelers, had big plans this year. Birthday trip in May to Colombia, which would have been my 45th country: Canceled. End-of-summer jaunt to Croatia in September: Canceled. Countless weekend getaways within my own country: All canceled. Thankfully, I was able to spend an incredible whirlwind weekend in Paris, Bruges and Luxeumbourg in February — right before the world stopped turning.

Of course, I know the sadness I feel about canceling trips is absolutely nothing compared to the devastation this pandemic has wrought on people who have been afflicted. And I know international travel will resume — even if it doesn’t look the same for a long time. I can only hope the world starts healing sooner rather than later.

I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how I’m going to think about travel in the future. In recent years, I have booked so many trips on a whim for a wide range of reasons — to go to a concert, to drop an insane amount of money on a meal at a famous restaurant, or because “why not?” Really, all my trips have been about escaping reality. I don’t necessarily think that’s such a bad thing. Escaping responsibility, yes. But taking a break from my own reality to explore an alternate reality somewhere abroad for a few days — that’s healthy. But it’s been at the expense of a lot of things in my “real life.” I’m hoping that this forced pause will help me be more thoughtful about my travel plans. Less scratching an itch or checking a box and more deliberate and conscientious of how my travel whims may affect other things that are important to me and those around me.

So, as I sit here in “Airplane Mode,” travel planning turned off for the foreseeable future, I’m taking stock of where I want to go when the world starts turning again. Who I want to go with. And how I will be thoughtful, both as an individual and a global citizen, while still keeping my signature wanderlust and whimsy intact.

Until then, I’ll always have Paris…

xoxo

Take Me out to the Ballgame. Any Ballgame.

Memorial Day has come and gone, marking the unofficial start of summer. And while the baseball season has been in literal full swing since April, summer is the time when America's favorite pastime truly comes to life. This Where to Wander Wednesday takes you out to the ballgame at stadiums across the country.

My mom was the sports fan in our house. Dad just came along to talk to everyone. 

Growing up in New Jersey, we were relegated to rooting for New York teams. My mom, the sports fan in our family, followed her parents and chose the Mets. My dad's dad was a diehard Yankees fan. Somehow, they managed to bridge that major divide between the Bronx and Queens and get married. I grew up going to Mets games - piling in our 1980 Ford Econoline van with our family friends and trekking to Flushing for games at Shea. In my youngest memories, Dave Kingman was my favorite player. He was traded from the Mets (for the second time) when I was 8, but not before he replied to my fan mail with an autographed picture that I'm sure my mom can dig up somewhere. My inherited love for the Mets lasted well beyond the 1986 World Series (whose team roster I can still recite) and into my teen and collegiate years. 

And then, actual New York happened. Like many a Jersey girl, I moved to Manhattan after college to start my life in the "real world." Apparently, to me, the real world also meant totally ditching my Mets-fan roots and buying into the Manhattan-chic love of the black and white. That's right: I became a Yankees fan. It was then that I realized that what I loved was not necessarily the team, but the sport itself. And, if I'm truly honest, not even the sport (it can be kind of boring, don't you think?), but the act of going to a game. There's something about being at a stadium filled with cheering fans, pump-you-up chants, THE WAVE and the smell of hot dogs and cheap-yet-expensive beer that is just so much fun. And that's the reason the following photo collage exists. I'm here to finally come clean: I'm Christina, and I'm a fickle sports fan. 

From coast to coast, decade to decade, my loyalty does not run deep. 

That's right. There I am. In a Yankees hat at the old Yankees stadium and a Mets hat at the new Citi Field. In a San Francisco sweatshirt at what's now AT&T Park (then Pac Bell Park) and in a ridiculous Anaheim umbrella hat at Angel Stadium. All the while, root, root, rooting for the home team - regardless of the fact that my actual "home team" for the past 16 years has been the love/hateable loser San Diego Padres. This may not be a popular opinion among diehard sports fans, but for me, the joy comes in sitting in those super-uncomfortable seats - no matter how hip and modern the new stadium is - and cheering on the home team, even if you're 3,000 miles from home.

My one exception: the dreaded Red Sox. 

Putting my own curse on "The Cathedral" - home of the infamous Boston Red Sox.

See that red seat? It signifies the longest home run hit at the legendary Fenway Park by Ted Williams in 1946. 

Red Sox fans have a reputation. That's really enough said. My beef with the team isn't at all about the team itself. It's about their diehard following that transcends time, place, noise volume and sensibility. All of that is said in sarcastic jest, of course - just as is the shirt I own that says, "Boston Is Wicked Awful." Funny, right? Still, a visit to Fenway is a bucket-list must for any baseball fan. Taking in a Sox home game would be even better - especially rooting for the away team. That's still on my list for someday - hoping that someday happens this season. 

For now, though, I will remain a not-so-diehard Padres fan - one that demonstrates my true loyalty to my adopted hometown with partial season tickets to games that inevitably end in heartbreaking - yet not earth-shattering - loss. I go to Padres games not necessarily because I love the Padres. I go because I wholeheartedly LOVE San Diego and I think that loving a city means you commit to its sports teams, win or (much more likely, in our case) lose. Now that San Diego has lost its (also inevitable loser) Chargers, there's so much more at stake for the Padres, and this year - when our fine city is feeling the burn of the NFL - it's even more important to support Major League Baseball.

So I will excitedly go to my 22 games with my dear friend - a San Diego native and much-truer-than-I Padres fan for life - wearing my Padres garb, supporting awesome local eateries while indulging in my beloved Gaglione Bros. cheesesteaks, my Mission Brewery Blonde and my Baked Bear ice cream sandwiches. And I will love every minute in the most beautiful stadium in the entire country (just ask USA Today), Petco Park, where the seats may not be filled - unless it's with the other team's fans - but where the skyline view is impressive, the weather is almost always perfect, the fans are San Diego cool, the local beer is so much better than good, and where I will always root, root, root for the Padres. 

Opening Day 2017: Padres 7, Giants 6 

Oh, the Places I'll Go -- and a Few I've Already Been

Happy New Year! Here we are, 10 days into 2017 already. Where does time go? If you're anything like me, A LOT of time goes toward thinking about travel, planning travel, actual traveling, then moping about having finished traveling until I go back to thinking about and planning to travel again. It's a vicious cycle, being a wanderluster, but I didn't choose this life -- it chose me. 

As usual, my New Year's resolutions for 2017 include visiting at least one new country this year. I've also resolved to blog a lot more, so since I can't quite make it to a new country just yet, I figured now's as good a time as any to get the blog back up and running with a "Best of 2016" roundup of my five favorite destinations from last year. Just a little looking back before I look forward to what 2017's road map has to offer.

So here, in no particular order, are the places that wowed me in 2016 -- all well worth a visit. 

Life goals: Hug a sloth. Check. 

#1: Daniel Johnson's Monkey and Sloth Hangout, Roatan, Bay Islands, Honduras

OK, I may have lied. This list may be in a particular order. Because how can your year consist of snuggling with a sloth named Snow White without that being the #1 thing that happened all year? This amazing experience was made possible by Daniel Johnson's Monkey and Sloth Hangout, a tiny wildlife sanctuary on Roatan, the largest of the Bay Islands of Honduras.

Side note: Capuchin monkeys have the softest little hands! 

We found ourselves on Roatan as part of a cruise vacation, and because we never opt to take the cruise ship's overpriced excursions, I searched for things to do independently. I found this amazing little attraction via Cruise Critic and contacted them via their Facebook page. I received a prompt reply and organized an island tour, sanctuary visit and driver for the day -- all for just $35 per person, a bargain considering the priceless life experience of hugging sloths and having capuchin monkeys named after the cast of Jersey Shore climb on your head and, literally, down your dress (cheeky monkey!). Daniel Johnson himself, a young island guy with an unexpected love of the Pittsburgh Steelers, spends the day greeting guests and talking about the sanctuary, which allows sloths rescued from mainland Honduras to roam freely (and really, really slowly) in the trees and houses formerly domesticated monkeys surrendered by owners, exotic birds and a few other local creatures. Two enthusiastic thumbs up, if you ever find yourself on Roatan. 

It's always wine o'clock at Hacienda Guadalupe. 

#2: Valle de Guadalupe, Ensenada, Mexico

Among the many wonderful things about living in San Diego is its proximity to the Mexican border. I feel so very fortunate to have such easy access to all the amazing culture, food, people and sights that exist in this binational region. One of the best-kept secrets (not so secretive anymore -- thanks a lot, Travel & Leisure's Best Places to Visit in 2017 list!) in northern Baja California is the Valle de Guadalupe (Guadalupe Valley) wine country. Located just 90 km south of the border, a few miles east of Ensenada, this burgeoning desert region is a must-visit for wine lovers who also love a little rustic adventure with their wine tasting. 

A view of the Valle from Monte Xanic. 

More than 100 wineries dot the rural Ruta del Vino offering a variety of literally off-the-beaten-path (seriously, don't drive your new car. You'll spend a good deal of time driving on unpaved roads) experiences, from the tiny cave tasting at Vinicola Tres Mujeres to the spectacular sweeping views at the stunning Monte Xanic. For an overnight stay, Hacienda Guadalupe is a beautiful hotel option, while B&B lovers will enjoy La Villa del Valle and its on-site gastronomic powerhouse, Corazon de Tierra. 

I visited the Valle twice in 2016 and already have at least one trip planned for 2017. You can expect to read much more from me on this destination, which is so close to me, but still a world away. 

The iconic Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge. 

#3: Sydney, Australia

I wish I had more to say about Syndey other than, simply: I heart you, Sydney. The final stop on a two-week cruise that covered six ports in New Zealand (see #5) and two others in Australia -- Hobart (see #4) and Melbourne -- it's a city I decided I could live in within 30 seconds of walking its streets. Or, more precisely, ferrying across its waters. With only one way-too-short day to explore, I spent it almost entirely on the water, simply riding the bargain-priced commuter ferry from one suburban beach to another. We spent a rainy night drinking with Sydney-based friends in Darling Harbour, capping our night off with a closing-time drink at the Opera Bar at the picture-perfect Sydney Opera House. 

Dear Sydney: It was love at first sight. I cannot wait for another opportunity to continue our budding romance. 

Seriously. Feeding a kangaroo in Australia. Does it get any better than this? 

#4: Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary, Tasmania, Australia

I thought one animal encounter might be enough for this list, but then I thought again. When you have the opportunity to feed dozens of kangaroos, witness a joey hanging out of its mom's pouch, get up-close-and-personal with a koala, and hold hands with a tiny baby wombat, you really can't leave that off your top-five list, can you? That's the summary of our morning at the amazing Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary, located roughly 30 minutes outside of the port city of Hobart, Tasmania. 

Love.

Home to Tasmania's only 24-hour animal rescue, the sanctuary cares for orphaned wildlife (like the precious baby wombat above, whose mom was hit by a car) and serves as a conservation center for native species like the elusive Tasmanian devil. 

The nearly 200-year-old brewery sits high in the clouds at the foot of Mt. Wellington. 

While the visit to Bonorong was it itself worth the port stop in Hobart, the city also had a few other attractions of note, including the expansive Salamanca Market, held weekly on Saturdays, and the Cascade Brewery, Australia's oldest operating brewery, established in 1824.  

Wine me away to the Marlborough region. 

#5: Marlborough Wine Region, Blenheim, New Zealand (South Island) 

New Zealand. Two words that inspire serious wanderlust in the hearts and minds of many travelers. Those who haven't been have it at the top of their list; those who have can't wait to go back. Plant me firmly on the list of those who can't wait to go back -- for much longer next time. Truthfully, I had wanted my first foray into Middle Earth to be in a campervan, spending at least a month adventuring our way deep into New Zealand's interior. Instead, we went the more practical route and took a cruise, therefore barely scratching the surface of the land that boasts some of the most spectacular scenery I've ever seen. Still, I can say I've been to New Zealand with just as much certainty as I can say I will someday go back, and when I do, I'll rent that campervan. 

Until then, my favorite New Zealand spot has to be the Marlborough wine region, which put the country on the oenophile's map with its Sauvignon Blanc. We accessed wine country via our port stop in Picton, about a 30-minute drive from the village of Blenheim, home base for our driver, Cameron "Cam" Clarke of Hop 'n Grape Tours. A winemaker himself, Cam had all the inside scoop on the region and led a fun, laid-back tour that did not leave us thirsty.

Pro tip: While Marlborough is known for its Sauvignon Blanc, it's the region's Pinot Gris that's the real winner. Costs are too high to export much to the United States, so do yourself a favor and buy some while you're there. And don't forget to bring a bottle or two back for me! 

So there you have it. My top five of 2016. I hope I've inspired some wanderlust in you, dear reader. I know my feet are already itching to find at least five new destinations for 2017! Exactly where this year will take me is still uncertain -- Mexico City, Iceland, Puerto Rico, the UK -- but one thing is for certain: My wanders will never cease. And I'll be sure to share them all with you. 

The Tide Is High

Summer in San Diego is not unlike most other seasons in the city with undeniably the best weather in the entire country. Here, every day is a beach day, and everywhere you turn there’s another sight to see. Living in paradise means it can be difficult to impress a local—you’ve seen one breathtaking sunset over the Pacific, you’ve seen them all, right? Wrong. There are still some spectacular things about “America’s Finest City” that take even the most seasoned San Diegan’s breath away. High Tide Dinner at The Marine Room is one of them.

Mother Nature's spectacular display. Photo courtesy of The Marine Room. 

A La Jolla landmark, celebrating its 75th anniversary this year, the matriarch of modern coastal cuisine is without a doubt one of the city’s finer restaurants. Under the helm of renowned Executive Chef Bernard Guillas—who, for the past 21 years, has brought his charming personality, extraordinary talent, creativity and passion to the table to the delight of his diners—The Marine Room has firmly solidified its stature among any number of newcomers to San Diego’s dining scene.

World-renowned Executive Chef Bernard Guillas, a familiar, friendly face in the San Diego dining scene. 

While any occasion is a good occasion for a meal at The Marine Room, high tide is Mother Nature’s chosen celebration. Located directly on the sand at La Jolla Shores, the restaurant’s prime real estate allows for the most up-close-and-personal oceanfront views in the entire county. At high tide, seas as high as seven feet crash up against and over the restaurant’s wall of windows. Sea lions swim past, casually peeking out at diners. And sea birds dive into the waves, creating a free show that easily beats the price of admission at any other local attraction. For an optimal experience, it’s best to reserve a table an hour to 90 minutes before high tide, allowing your meal to build from appetizer to dessert just as the crescendo of waves builds in front of you.

A table with a view.

Even with the spectacle of nature unfolding outside, it’s still impossible to lose focus on the amazing meal that awaits you inside. Each thoughtfully prepared and beautifully presented dish is infused with creativity, freshness and flavor—from standouts like the Trilogy of Lobster, Ahi Tuna and Hamachi and the Maine Diver Scallop and Foie Rossini appetizers to the buttery-rich New York Steak and the Free Range Veal Loin entrees—demonstrating Chef Bernard’s innate desire to keep The Marine Room youthful and fresh, even at 75 years young. As he says, “We are always discovering new things and new ways to innovate and ensure that everything at The Marine Room is approachable, sustainable and exciting.”

An undoubtedly exciting and must-do dining experience, The Marine Room’s next High Tide Dinners begin tonight, August 15-19, followed by August 28-31. High Tide Breakfasts begin October 15.

Visit www.marineroom.com/Menus/HighTideDinner for exact times of high tide.  

Beyond Bourbon

New Orleans. Those two words conjure up images of debauchery -- drunken nights on Bourbon Street filled with beads, boobs and free-flowing booze. I've been to the Louisiana city three times, and while I'll admit that I've partaken in my fair share of stereotypical French Quarter fun, I have to add that there's so much more to NOLA -- and the surrounding Gulf Coast region -- than its reputation implies. This Where to Wander Wednesday spotlights a few of my favorite things from my most recent journey to the land of Mardi Grad madness. 

Obligatory shot of Jackson Square and St. Louis Cathedral. 

One of the first thing tourists do in New Orleans is head to the French Quarter -- and for good reason. The historic neighborhood is the oldest in the city, dating back to 1718, and as such, it's a maze of striking architecture and landmark attractions, like Jackson Square, St. Louis Cathedral and the legendary Cafe du Monde, the home of cafe au lait and the quintessentially deep-fried beignet. Open 24 hours a day, seven days a week -- with the exception of Christmas Day and during active hurricanes -- the "Original French Market Coffee Stand" has been serving the sweet staple -- covered with an inches-high mound of powdered sugar -- since 1862, and it's worth at least one visit for history's sake. Just don't wear black or expect the friendliest Southern hospitality; with its widespread reputation and revolving door of tourists, the restaurant doesn't need to work very hard to woo customers. 

Try as I might, I can never resist Cafe du Monde beignets! 

My most recent trip took me to New Orleans for a work conference, and because I was traveling solo, I was warned about safety in the city at night. So instead of hitting up the ubiquitous bars, night clubs and live music venues that line the tightly packed streets, and instead of tossing back a Hurricane or three and stumbling my way back to my conference hotel, I opted to do my sightseeing by day -- um, after the conference sessions, of course, boss -- and meet up with friends for dinner. Luckily, I was able to reconnect with both a high school and college friend who now call New Orleans home, and they introduced me to off-the-Bourbon-path dining destinations favored by locals. My favorite was Adolfo's, a tiny hole in the wall that serves rich and delicious Italian cuisine with a Creole-Cajon twist. It's located atop a rickety wooden staircase above the Apple Barrel Bar on Frenchmen Street in the Marigny, far enough off Bourbon to feel different (and safer), yet still lively and eclectic thanks to the energy of musicians busking on corners and in doorways. 

Perhaps my favorite thing about this trip to New Orleans was the road trip I took that ventured outside of New Orleans. On my way out of the city, I drove through wards -- particularly the 9th Ward -- still utterly devastated by 2005's tremendous Hurricane Katrina. I stopped for a tour of the Villalobos Rescue Center, the site of the Animal Planet show Pit Bulls and Parolees, and I envisioned what the "City of Second Chances," as a mural depicts on the side of the rescue facility, could be if only it had the resources to pull itself out from the depths of its despair. (NOTE: Due to recent threats to staff, Villalobos Rescue Center no longer offers tours of its facility.) 

Villalobos Rescue Center, changing lives one pit bull and one parolee at a time. 

Once I left the city of New Orleans, I crossed the spectacular Lake Pontchartrain Causeway, where you're driving almost at sea level across "the world's longest bridge over a body of water." Do this drive during sunset and you're in for an absolute treat; I specifically timed my return drive to witness Mother Nature in all her colorful glory. Now, I could wax poetic for days about my love of a solo road trip, windows down, music up, nothing but the open road in front of me, but I'll spare you -- for now.

Miles of white sand along the Gulf Coast

Suffice it to say, I loved cruising along the Gulf Coast, stopping along the way for Southern Pecan Nut Brown Ale at Lazy Magnolia Brewery, "Mississippi's Oldest Brewery" in Kiln, Mississippi, dating all the way back to 2003 (the Deep South still has some pretty funky alcohol laws); fried green tomatoes at Blow Fly Inn in Gulfport, Mississippi (as seen on Diners, Drive-ins and Dives); and photo ops of white-sand beaches on the way to Biloxi. 

Lazy Magnolia, Mississippi's Oldest Brewery: Worth a trip -- and more than a few sips -- in Kiln, Mississippi, about an hour's drive from New Orleans. 

I've said before that I truly love the journey as much, if not more than, the destination. That sentiment rung true on my tour of the Gulf Coast. My destination may have been New Orleans, but with so many more sights to see, flavors to taste and neighborhoods to explore, and so much more history and culture to appreciate than just one city could offer, the journey beyond the city limits was well worth taking. And I know there's so much more out there I still need to explore. 

Sun setting on the Gulf Coast near Gulfport, Mississippi 

On Top of the World in Oia

As a wanderluster with an appreciation almost as much for the journey as for the destination, I can find something to marvel at no matter where I go -- whether it's the middle of absolutely nowhere in Texas (where I simply marvel at the massive size of Texas!) or on top of the world in one of the most spectacular places I've ever visited: Oia, on the Greek Island of Santorini. This Where to Wander Wednesday is dedicated to that volcanic island and the awe it inspires at every turn. 

Yes, it really does look like it does in pictures. 

I know that everyone and their grandmother who has ever been to Santorini has the same photo, but that's OK. It simply shows that no matter when you go, you'll be lucky enough to witness the same beauty experienced by generations of tourists before you -- and generations of travelers to come. While I do love "the road less traveled," sometimes the road more traveled is also worth taking. Santorini is that road. One of the Cyclades Islands in the Aegean Sea, the island as it is today was formed by a volcanic eruption in the 16th century, leaving it rugged, dramatic and a sight to behold. Santorini curves around an underwater caldera, or crater, and its volcanic nature is easily recognizable in the red-rocked cliffs and black-sand beaches that shape its coast. 

You first experience the drama that is life on the edge of a volcano when you arrive by ferry or cruise ship from Athens or one of the other Greek Isles. The bus ride up the hill from the port is enough to make you hold your breath -- and pray that the driver hasn't been sipping some of the ouzo or raki that is abundant at every Greek meal! The most popular of the Greek Islands, Santorini's two biggest towns are Fira, in the center, and Oia, on the northern tip. On my three-night stay I didn't make it to Fira, opting instead for the oft-photographed, artsy and incredible Oia. Despite the crowds and the heat (I was there in July -- avoid August at all costs!), it remains one of my all-time favorite destinations. Quintessential white-washed houses are at every turn, freshly painted each year to keep up their classic appearance; turquoise domes and bright pink bougainvillea pop with color among the white cliffs; top-of-the-world sunsets draw applause nightly from wine-sipping crowds perched on rooftops, cliffs, walkways, restaurant patios -- anywhere and everywhere they can get spot; and nights are spent sleeping in upscale hotel rooms carved into cliffside caves. 

That's where my first Where to Wander Wednesday recommendation comes in: Stay in a cave hotel. My choice: Filotera Suites, where one of Oia's many cliffside hotel pools dangles high above Amoudi Bay, offering panoramic, pinch-me-I'm-dreaming caldera views as far as the eye can see. 

The view from inside the cave. Not too shabby. 

It's easy to stay perfectly content high above the water in Oia, but it's worth hiking down the 300 steps to tiny Amoudi Bay below, where fishing boats dock and a row of open-air waterfront restaurant shacks allow the waves to crash right at your table.

The red-rocked view from the bottom up. 

After a bottle or four of Mythos beer, you may be tempted to hitch a ride on one of the donkeys awaiting weary travelers, but (here comes my animal advocacy PSA) please don't. You get to jump off the rocks into the refreshing (aka COLD) Aegean at the bottom of the steps or back into your hotel's infinity pool at the top; those poor donkeys have no such luxury. 

Jump on in -- the water's fine! And by fine, I mean absolutely freezing, but totally worth it! 

Sweet donkeys -- look, but don't ride! 

With all the beauty, food (blocks of salty, delicious feta cheese everywhere!), drink, shopping and relaxation all in tiny Oia, there's really no need to leave, but as a traveler who likes to jam-pack way too many things into my trips, I can always find a reason. In Santorini, that reason was one of the volcanic beaches on the other side of the island: Kamari Beach, a resort town with a bustling waterfront walkway and a black-pebble beach surrounded by rocky mountains. 

Black sand and beach bar service -- take me back! 

With breathtaking beauty everywhere you turn on Santorini, it's hard to believe that the island was formed by one of the most dramatic eruptions only Mother Nature could conjure. But out of the ashes arose an amazing destination -- one to which I absoultely can't wait to return.  

Juneau Where You Are?

You're in Alaska, baby, and you're going to fly! And fly I did -- thanks to an adrenaline-pumping outing with Alaska Zipline Adventures in Juneau, the remote state's even more remote capital. Reachable only by boat or seaplane, Juneau is a popular cruise ship port, one of my favorite stops on a week-long cruise of Alaska's Inside Passage and this week's Where to Wander Wednesday destination spotlight. 

Alaska: The Last Frontier. The Land of the Midnight Sun. Seward's Folly. Whatever you want to call it, our 49th state is a wonder worthy of exploration. Secretary of State William Seward may have been ridiculed in the late 1800s for his insistence on purchasing the vast piece of land from Russia, but to the nearly two million tourists each year who set their sights on the spectacular northwestern state, the destination is no joke. In fact, it's a serious bucket list trip for many wanderlusters looking for breathtaking scenery, outdoor adventures, fresh air, wildlife encounters and endless daylight -- as long as it's summertime. Give me 18 hours of sunlight and 80-degree temperatures and I'm a happy traveler. Give me the opposite, not so much. As my dear friend Jay -- who has lived in Anchorage for years -- would say, "Going from San Diego to Alaska in the middle of winter would be like jumping into a cold pool after getting out of a sauna...with a blindfold on." In other words, the cold and dark isn't for weather wimps like me. 

Good thing it was mid-June when we embarked on our seven-day journey from Vancouver, British Columbia, to Whittier, Alaska, just outside of Anchorage. In addition to Juneau, the ship stopped in Ketchikan and Skagway, and included a day of scenic cruising through the breathtaking (literally -- even in the summer, the air is crisp enough to take your breath away) Glacier Bay National Park. 

The whole trip was incredible, with photo ops at every turn. Cruising by thunderous, calving glaciers and crystal-blue icebergs. Strolling through Gold Rush towns that seem to be lost in time. Scoping out wildlife -- eagles, bears and moose, oh my! 

But in the spirit of Where to Wander Wednesday, I'll highlight one city and two of my favorite things to do in that city. In Juneau, tourists flock to the Mendenhall Glacier, a 13-mile-long face of ice just outside of the city and accessible inexpensively by shuttle bus. Dating back 3,000 years to the last ice age, the glacier is one of 38 large glaciers that make up the 1,500-square-mile Juneau Icefield. Part of Tongass National Forest, the park offers six trails for different vantage points -- all with opportunities to encounter wildlife (check out the bear-proof trash cans!) and waterfalls. 

It was an unseasonably warm day in Juneau the day we visited, with a high in the 80s (typical June highs are in the mid 60s), a low of 59 and 18 hours of sunlight -- leading us silly San Diegans to foolishly remark, "We could totally live here!" Juneau residents, on the other hand, were sweating feverishly and cooling off by swimming -- yes, swimming! -- next to icebergs in the glacial waters. Even with 80-degree air temperatures, swimming in iceberg water is decidedly not for weather wimps like me! 

While glacier viewing is fine family fun for tourists of all types, my number-one favorite attraction in Juneau came courtesy of the aforementioned Alaska Zipline Adventures, which offers exhilarating zipline tours through the emerald-green Juneau rainforest. Not for the faint of heart or feared of heights, the nearly four-hour tour through the treetops is a must for adrenaline junkies. Having ziplined previously in Hawaii, I was a cocky second-timer -- until I got to the suspension bridge portion of the experience. For some reason, even secured by a harness, crossing a way-too-wobbly-for-my-liking wooden bridge over a "rushing salmon-spawning stream" was 10 times more terrifying than flying through the forest at fast speeds. After seven zips and the death-defying bridge crossing, the tour ended with an axe-throwing challenge that proved I was certainly not a lumberjack in a former life. 

Because a trip to Alaska wouldn't be complete without feasting on Alaskan king crab legs, our final stop for the day was Tracy's King Crab Shack, where we met up with the monster below and snacked on some of his delicious friends before heading back to the ship -- convinced that although truly no roads lead to Juneau, a journey to the scenic Alaska capital is one worth making. 

Handbags, Not Heinekens

OK, maybe the title lies just a little. There may have been a few Heinekens. But really, who's counting? And when you're in Amsterdam, let's be honest: A couple of light beers are really the mildest of the vices available for indulging! 

Amsterdam, The Netherlands: That's the destination for today's blog post. On a day I've decided to coin "Where to Wander Wednesday," (say that three times fast, then hashtag it!) I'm going to highlight weekly a city I've visited and two of my favorite attractions in that city--one that's well known and one that's hopefully at least a little offbeat--with the goal of inspiring you to not just follow a guidebook, but also follow your curiosity and your sense of adventure. Be inquisitive. Ask a local their favorite spot to hang out on a Saturday afternoon. If you're traveling with friends or a partner, take an afternoon off from each other and explore something that YOU want to do, even if they're not interested. 

That's how I ended up in one of my favorite little spots in Amsterdam: Tassen Museum Hendrikje, Museum of Bags and Purses. Yes, you read that right: A museum dedicated to purses. Prior to stumbling upon this gem of an attraction, I thought the only such paradise in existence was the Louis Vuitton emporium. Wrong. Apparently, the Dutch appreciate the awesomeness that is a perfectly crafted handbag and they're not afraid to admit it--in fine museum fashion. 

Five hundred years of bag and purse history? How could this NOT be amazing? 

Now, I should probably mention that I was in Amsterdam at the beginning of my honeymoon. It was the embarkation port for our Baltic Sea cruise. Not surprisingly, my new husband was not super stoked (as he would say) about going to a purse museum on his honeymoon (or ever). In fact, he'd probably say he could just look in my closet and see enough purses to last a lifetime. But me, well, I thought handbags and honeymoons were a perfect match. After all, my Louis Vuitton bags and I are committed to each other for life. It only made sense that I learn a little about my lifelong purse partner's past. So, I followed my own advice and ventured off on my own for an hour or two of handbag heaven. 

Even for a self-proclaimed purse fanatic, an hour or two was really all I needed to get my fill. I'm admittedly not a museum lover. I'm very tactile and like to touch things; they frown on that at museums. I also can't usually be bothered to read the descriptions on museum displays, so I'll just stand in front of them for what I think is long enough to give the illusion of reading. At the Museum of Bags and Purses, it was enjoyable enough to just slowly peruse the cases, admiring the intricate beauty of the more than 5,000 bags in the museum's collection, dating as far back as the Middle Ages, and imagining what life was like for the women who were carrying them.

Oh beautiful feathered bag, how I adore thee! 

The museum itself is charming, housed in a 17th century canal house that once served as a mayor's residence. It was worth the stop just to see inside such a historic and beautifully preserved building. If you're feeling fancy, the museum also serves high tea in its restaurant and in one of two 17th and 18th century period rooms. 

All in all, it was a lovely solo outing ogling centuries worth of stunning accessories. I did feel badly for all the husbands whose wives didn't have the decency to leave them at the hotel like I did mine. Undeniably, those husbands deserved an afternoon at the next favorite spot on my Amsterdam adventure: The Heineken Experience.  

A museum in its own right (see, I do like museums, as long as they involve things like purses and beer. Is there one for shoes somewhere? If so, how quickly can I get there?), this interactive brewery tour is to Amsterdam what the Guinness Storehouse is to Dublin (I'll save that for another post): an ode to the history, promotion and brewing process of the city's most commercialized product, filled with little interactive exhibits, like designing your own label, taking silly photo booth photos and videos against funny backgrounds, mixing ingredients in vats and barrels, attempting to pour the perfect beer and, of course, tasting the finished product.  

At the end of the day, after you've raised a glass or two to the fine city of Amsterdam and the green-bottled beer that it introduced to the world, the Heineken Experience is fun enough that it makes you forget that you never really liked the taste of Heineken in the first place. 

Once Bitten by the Travel Bug

At the early age of 2, I was bitten by a bug, and I’ve been living with the side effects ever since. This bug's main symptom is a constant itch to get up and go - anywhere and everywhere. To see sights I’ve never seen before, to taste new foods, meet new people, experience new cultures, and return to reality full of new stories to tell and pictures to share. And then to plan the next journey and do it all over again.

I credit my parents for exposing me to this bug when I was just a toddler. At age 2, I spent my birthday in Bermuda (check out my dad, the original hipster, with his killer seventies handlebar mustache). At age 3, Curacao. I know that I was too young on those trips to remember them, but I'm still certain they had an influence on the world traveler I’ve become. Throughout my childhood, travel was just something we always did. When I was 5 and my brother was born, my parents bought a condo in south Florida. At least three times a year, from age 5 to my teen years, we would pack up our 1980 Ford Econoline van with summer clothes, grandma’s home-cooked chicken - and usually both Grandma and Nana - and we’d roll out of our driveway in New Jersey singing Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” as we set off on the 1,200-mile journey down the East Coast. We’d traverse seven states on that road trip, ticking off mile markers, stopping at kitschy rest areas like South of the Border between North and South Carolina, spending the night in a Days Inn in small towns off I-95 with names like Fayetteville and Rocky Mount, until we finally made it to the Sunshine State. There was nothing like the freshly squeezed orange juice at the Florida Welcome Center. Even though we still had five hours left of the journey once we crossed the Florida state line, that fresh, cold OJ always signaled that we were almost there.

When I was 13, we added a new and exciting element to our Florida trips: week-long Caribbean cruises out of Miami or Fort Lauderdale. Each summer of my high school years, my family of four would team up with our close friends – another family of four with a daughter roughly my age and another my brother’s age – and set sail to different exotic ports of call: St. Thomas, St. Maarten, Martinique, Barbados, Grand Cayman, Cozumel. You name a port in the Caribbean, and it’s likely my teenage feet stepped foot on it at least once. Each trip was an adventure in its own. In addition to doing touristy things like buy Hard Rock Café t-shirts and try our hand at snorkeling or parasailing, my dad always liked to see how the locals lived. What better way to do that than to stop in a grocery store in an off-the-beaten-path neighborhood, or simply stop and talk to a local and ask them how they’re doing.

Not going to lie: Teenage me didn't always love family vacations!

As I got older and went off to college, I knew right away that I wanted to study abroad. I chose my major of media studies because I knew there would be the opportunity to study in Manchester, England, my junior year. But by the time junior year came, I had become so involved in my Spanish classes that I chose instead to study in Madrid, Spain. I spent eight weeks immersed in Spanish culture, living with a host senora, taking classes, and living it up as only a newly 21-year-old in a foreign country could. I made new friends, one of whom would become my mid-twenties travel buddy, and I spent another few weeks hopping from country to country on a Eurorail pass, staying in hostels, seeing sights like the Eiffel Tower, the Roman Coliseum and the Swiss Alps, all the while collecting memories that would shape my life and stay with me forever.

In fact, I credit my travel bug and sense of adventure for bringing me to where I am now. Without those experiences in my younger life, I never would have had the courage or even the inspiration to pick up my East Coast life and move it from New York City to California. But with more than 20 years of travel under my belt at the time, I knew that there was much more out there than even New York City - the center of the universe - had to offer.

And I was right. My move to San Diego introduced me to so many new sights - Hollywood and Beverly Hills, San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge, the neighboring Arizona desert and the rainy but wonderful Pacific Northwest. It immersed me in a completely new laid-back lifestyle. And it introduced me to a whole host of new people, including my husband, who, like me, loves to travel. He even joined the Navy to see the world - an experience that allowed me to travel to Singapore to visit him on deployment. In our 14 years together, we’ve traveled to so many places it’s hard to keep count. We spent our honeymoon on a Baltic cruise, visiting places like Amsterdam and Russia. Together, we’ve ziplined in Alaska, bungee jumped on Vancouver Island, plunged off the 192-meter Sky Tower in New Zealand, perched atop the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, searched for Nessie in Scotland, practiced our archery skills outside a medieval castle in Estonia, smoked cigars in Cuba and fed kangaroos in Tasmania. And we’ve only just begun.

Doesn't everyone practice archery at a medieval Estonian castle on their honeymoon? 

Over the past 15 years I’ve lived in San Diego, I’ve had to tell my parents numerous times that they’re the reason I live so far away - whenever they ask when I’m moving back to New Jersey, I remind them that they’re the ones that let the travel bug bite me all those years ago, so they have no one to blame but themselves!

The truth is, I am so blessed and so fortunate to have parents who raised me with the curiosity to explore new things, with the resources to afford these opportunities and with the sense of adventure to seek out new experiences. I can only hope to continue to be so fortunate to venture to many more new places in the future, perhaps with a family of my own. And when I do, I’ll be sure to visit an off-the-beaten-path grocery store, or stop a local, simply to ask how they’re doing. 

And then I'll blog about it!

Second to travel, writing is the other thing I was born to do. It only makes sense to combine the two. In Wanders Never Cease, I'll be blogging about adventures to destinations near and far, fun events and road trips in San Diego and Southern California, the excitement and culture that awaits across the border in Mexico, and pet-friendly travel (for my fellow dog lovers). Read more about what I have planned under "My Destinations" and subscribe to my blog to follow along!  

I'm so excited to embark on this blogging journey and I'm hopeful you'll all come along for the ride. Adventure awaits...let's go!