48 hours in Manhattan

We stepped off the plane at 8:30 Friday night, and stepped right back onto the plane at 8:40 Sunday night.

48 hours in New York rivaled 50 hours in Vegas. Regardless of the fact the flight was half as long, the city was equally as exhausting.

I guess I should back up and explain that this great big, exhilarating, New York weekend was my birthday gift. Yea. You heard that right. Because I'm not spoiled or anything.

A few weeks earlier that sneaky fella of mine sent me an airline confirmation.

Having never been to the BIG CITY (yea yea - insert gasp here, I am used to it) I had no clue what to expect. Of course, everyone passed along their long lists of Must See's and Must Eat's and Must Drink's and Must Avoids, but we pretty much decided to go into it with an open agenda.

The taxi ride from LaGuardia to the W Hotel may have been the most tortuous ride of my life. Tate decided to book our hotel in Times Square so we were in a central location to everything... which was fantastic, but also terrible, because Times Square is... well terrible, as I quickly learned. The concept of traffic flow (both by foot and automobile) seems lost on everyone there.

As soon as we got checked into our room on the 36th floor, we were back out the revolving door, in search of food. Thus began our first leisurely stroll (and by leisurely I mean, block after block after block), where we stumbled upon a little Argentinian place in Chelsea (how fitting). By the time we walked in the door, I was less than pleasant, and an eleven on the hangry scale. They immediately brought me my wine and a basket of bread and all was right in the world again.

Porteno did not disappoint, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who asks. But then again, they brought us complimentary wine after our meal too so I may be biased.

Can I pause for a second and ask if there is an over-abundance of Irish in New York, or if every other bar genre just threw in the towel and added a 'Mc' in front of their name and Guinness to their tap line?

After a few drinks at one of the local Mc'watering Holes, we decided we better call it a night, and trekked back to the hotel. Saturday took us to the 9/11 Memorial, and museum (a sombering experience, but I somehow managed NOT to cry, so there's a miracle),

When we left the museum we made a pact not to spend the rest of the day dipping into depression, and proceeded to wander around the city and saw EVERY OTHER THING THERE IS TO SEE IN NEW YORK CITY. No really. I think at the end of the day we had logged like 20 some miles. Thank god, for once in my life, I heeded advice and wore practical(ish) shoes.

And then I did what any sane female would do. Dawned 4" heels for a Broadway show that night. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, no? That's what I kept telling myself as we climbed the stairs to our balcony level seats. (We saw An American in Paris )

Guess where we went after the show -- yep, another Irish pub. Shocking, huh? I told Tate we had to get drunk and find trashy New York pizza joint for a night cap (hey, you're only young once) so we did just that. Lucky for us, the one I picked had a cocaine dealer out front, so we had prime entertainment for the 14 minutes it took us to scarf down the most delicious thin crust pizza and a few bottles of water.

Sunday morning it poured, which was perfect because we wanted to do nothing but sleep. We finally managed to get up and showered shortly before checking out of the hotel at noon. Leaving our bags behind we headed back to Chelsea for brunch (Tipsy Parson -- GO! So good), wandered the High Line, hit up Chelsea Market, then were off to Central Park and the last leg of our whirlwind see-it-all-do-it-all Manhattan madness.

As late afternoon rolled around and we hopped into the taxi to head back to LGA, I closed my eyes and sank into the seat. I had achy legs, and a happy heart. It's not that I haven't traveled to a hundred cities, it was moreso who I was travelling with.

New York City wasn't what I expected it to be. I anticipated huge, bustling, high action... it was big, and it was busy... but it wasn't unmanageable. I anticipated overwhelming, but we conquered it easily. Guess that just proves you never know til you try

Interested in where else I've traveled? Check out my wander page to find out more!

#NextWeekNicaragua

Nicaragua fell into my lap.

I caught wind of great airfare, convinced a buddy of mine to join, threw our airfare onto my credit card, got my PTO approved, and went about my Friday at the office.

Over the weekend I decided on a few cities to visit, and the following Thursday morning we were wheels up to Managua.

Instances like this remind me how INSANELY lucky I am to live this life, and be able to up and leave the way that I did. I remember being in Belize and talking to a handful of backpackers who had been making their way up the coast, and every one of them raved about Nica. I couldn't wait to go find out for myself...

San Pedro: The #OMGBelize Adventures

I'll let you in on a little secret. Occasionally, blog posts need to percolate on a blogger's mind for a month or two (or more) before they actually get written. You just can't rush these things...

In all actuality, I have a really hard time talking about Belize. Thankfully, I think the grin and the twinkle in my eye that appears at the first sound of the country speaks for itself. Something about it just spoke to me. That country was my jam, my love language.

Here at the tail end of another Indiana winter, writing about warm, sunny, happy Central America sounds like the perfect plan for my day though.

San Pedro actually consisted of WAY more than just jumping into the ocean to kick it with an abundance sharks and rays and turtles. For instance, I met a soul mate.

Granted, while I appreciate his proper use of "you're"... the fact that he took the time to put ALL of this into my phone as we sat around the hostel pool one night was a bit aggressive. The fact he was barely 22 was also a bit much for me. Sorry for never calling, Buzz. Sorry for avoiding eye contact that night at the chicken drop, too.

Ha. Chicken drop. The highlight of every Thursday in San Pedro is cheering for a chicken to take a poop. I'm confident atleast 80% of the inhabitants on the island were huddled around that stretch of beach that night.

What is it, you ask? You purchase numbers and hope like hell that piece of poultry takes a dookie on your number. You win a pretty decent chunk of change if that happens. Of course you also have to clean up the mess, first. Sadly (thankfully?) none of us ever got that opportunity.

Naturally, right in the middle of the festivities, the power on the entire island goes out.

That's not an exaggeration. The. Entire. Island. Apparently the blackout stretched up into Mexico too.

So hey... foreign country, no cell service, no power anywhere... we do what any sane person would do, blind-eyed our way to the town square to get street meat. Thank the heavens for whoever invented food carts and generators!

Jenn had headed back to the states the day after our Shark Ray Alley experience, so us three musketeers had upgraded out of hostel life for the first time since stepping foot in Belize, and shelled over the cash for a hotel on the beach. Conch Shell Inn. She was a hot pink beaut, and when we blindly stumbled back to her that night in the dark we found the fellas at the dive shop on the dock having a hell of a good time, so we graced them with our presence for a while. Somewhere between the chicken drop and 9am the next morning the power had returned, and we were able to bask in air-conditioned bliss for the first time in a while.

It's weird being somewhere so laid back. I am not lying when I tell you there isn't much to do. But there isn't much to do in the BEST way possible. You can leisurely walk down the beach to grab coffee, and sit there chatting for hours. Or belly up to your favorite bar to drink Lighthouse and play Three's all night, every night. Of course, when you do that, you become the bartenders best friend. And if you're real lucky, you may even learn your bartender stars in a local island soap opera, and then you REALLY get to give him a hard time! (Be careful though, as we came to find out sometimes other patrons get so annoyed by you hogging the bartender's attention that they write about you in their TripAdvisor reviews)

The entire San Pedro adventure really hit it's pinnacle the morning we rented a golf cart. Being our last full day on the island, we realized we had yet to go to the much talked about Palapa Bar. Since it's on the northside of the island you have a few options - a long ass bike ride, or a shorter long-ass golf cart ride.

We took the cart around the island for a little exploring before venturing out to Palapa. I'll never complain about the potholes on Indiana roads after navigating those dirt paths. The bar was a blast, drinks were delicious, we made friends with some other patrons and wasted away our afternoon soaking up an equal mixture of rum and sunshine.

The problem came when we realized the day had faded into night and we had good 30 min drive ahead of us with no streets lights (hell there weren't even streets). We gracefully exited the bar where I turn the key and quickly learn our golf cart had no functioning headlights. Whit swooped in and saved the day as she grabbed our iPhones and flipped the flashlights on, proudly holding them out over the windshield. Linds is on the back is yelling at us to go faster as she's getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, we're all bouncing around because the "road" isn't really true to it's name, and I'm just trying to figure out which of the double palm trees I'm seeing is the actual one, and which is the tree that vodka invented.

We made it out alive, barely (Linds lost a shoe), and happened upon someone from the golf cart rental who had heard (damn gossipy island folks) about three girls running rampant sans headlights, so they promptly traded us for a new golf cart, and we made our way a few blocks further for heaps of chicken wings and very large glasses of water.

As we returned our 6 hour golf cart rental that we kept for an additional 18 hours I realized this is another one of those times you just thank God you are on the most laid back island ever, and they really didn't even seem to mind. Slurping up one last iced coffee and heading to the tiny airstrip I was the saddest little puppy. I was far from ready for our time in the BZE Islands to come to an end.

Caye Caulker: The #OMGBelize Adventures

I'm not saying you shouldn't plan ANYTHING on your next trip... buuuut... ok, I am saying you should probably not plan out your next trip. Not to a T atleast. Wing it.

Do it, you'll like it.

We showed up at the Belize International Airport with nothing but a couple tickets on the puddle jumper to the islands, and a guaranteed place to sleep at night.

And guess what? Not only were we NOT BORED. We stumbled upon a whole lot of awesome that we probably wouldn't have stumbled upon had we showed up with a detailed itinerary of ToDo's.

(Side note: even if the guy working at the counter for your tiny island airline says go to the bar and drink until its time to leave on your flight, don't go to the bar and drink until it's time to leave. Because then they'll tell you you missed your flight and you'll have to wait another hour for the next one, and you'll probably be grumpy.)

We touched down to a drizzly Caye Caulker airstrip roughly nine and a half minutes after taking off from Belize City, and immediately started laughing.

What had we just gotten ourselves into?

That cheery fella was the entire operations of the "airport", and that building back there... yea that was the airport. He insisted on taking our luggage on that cart the 30 yards back and having us pick it up under the porch And when we asked for a taxi since it was raining, a jolly ol barefoot chap pulled up on a 6-seater golf cart and scooped us up and dropped us right in front of our new home for the next few days.

The benefit of staying in a hostel is that you make roughly 32 new friends within like 20 minutes of arriving... couple that with the benefit of staying on the worlds tiniest (may be a slight exaggeration) island is that you actually know every bartender, shopkeeper, chef and dog* within a day.

*Never in my life have I seen so many stray dogs in one area. Let alone stray dogs that are the nicest, most laid back, chillest dogs ever.

So, let's summarize shall we? Caye Caulker: Tiny.. full of pooches, backpackers and expats. Oh, and Go Slow. The islands motto, it's posted up EVERYWHERE in case you forget. (Supposedly it's for the golf carts... I personally think it's a reminder to just sit back and chill the eff out. Who knows)

And me?

I fell in love. The island didn't even have streets. You walked everywhere. Barefoot if you were really embracing it. You got the best meals sitting in lawn chairs on the sand. Afternoons were spent laying in a hammock at your hostel or on a dock at the far end of the island with 50 other people.

I had carry out Chinese food, while laying out, and drinking rum punch. How could you NOT fall in love?!

Our favorite hangout became the sports bar, owned by an expat from Pittsburgh, and the sweetest pooch Sir Finnegan. I wish I could count how many beers we had sitting in those old wood chairs. What started as a table of 4 gals quickly grew with every visit. We acquired accomplices from New York to California to England to South Africa and everywhere in between.

The island was so, so quiet being slow season. And BOY do they take slow season seriously... our last morning in Caulker we tried 3 different breakfast spots, to find all of them had closed down for the month until business picked back up. Have no fear, we made our own fun... if that wasn't already evident. Ooh the shenanigans that begin with a bottle of local cheap rum and a can of Arizona Kiwi-Strawberry...

After spending three nights at Yuma's House (safe to say it was definitely one of my favorite hostels I've stayed in) we headed to the water taxi dock Monday afternoon, and I was pretty pouty about leaving our little island behind. After being reminded we still had a weeks worth of Belize left ahead of us though, so let's be honest... I turned the frown upside down.

Ambergris Caye, here we come!

Other babblings:
We flew TropicAir from BZE to Caye Caulker, and used the Caye Caulker water taxi. Great service from both! 
Some favorite eats: Paradiso, Happy Lobster, Bambooze and the little Chinese food joint across from Frans

And then there was #OMGBelize

I guess I should have been more nervous about the fact that I had only spent a cumulative 18 hours total with one girl I was traveling with, not to mention I had never even met other gal.

Even as I was nearly sprinting through the Atlanta airport after a slightly late flight into the great Peach state, trying to get to the international terminal to meet them, the only thing that was on my mind was if I had actually thrown in enough swimsuits or was 3 was going to be disappointingly too few.

Does that mean I've hit that level of weirdness that traveling to Central America with two strangers doesnt even phase me? #bloggerprobs

Maybe I should back up and explain how this entire trip even came about. Sometime in the middle of the summer, I stumbled upon a ridiculously cheap roundtrip flight to Belize from Atlanta. After half-jokingly sending the link to Whit, she replied "let's book it". Mind you, I send her random flights at least once a day and usually she just tells me to get back to work. Naturally, my reply was SERIOUSLY? and we both decided 'why the hell not'.

She got a hold of her sister, as they had been tossing around the idea of a fall trip, and I tried to wake up Jenn in Vegas, as we had been throwing around the idea of Thailand in 2014. After a little convincing, we had 4 airline tickets purchased and a slight smirk on our faces. About 4 hours later, prices went up about $400. Yahtzee.

 The next few days were filled with a lot of "Holy shit what did we just book?" and  "Where is Belize anyways?" Those quickly evolved into "Oh my god we're going to Belize!", a countdown was started, and the token #OMGBelize phrase was born.

Funny how quickly those hundred or so days had flown by. Once settled into row 13, Whit & I looked at each other and just giggled... 'watch out Belize, here we come!'

Little did we know the adventures we were about to stumble upon.

BZE > IND

Another set of passport stamps. A fresh batch of scuffs and scars on the suitcase. A whole new series of stories to laugh about. Another country checked off the list. Another sleepy Monday morning spent readjusting.

Labor'ing in Punta Cana

It's only taken just shy of a decade, but I'm finally savvy to the fact that if I travel during a major US holiday I get a freebie vacation day.

It was a double whammy that my mom's birthday falls on the eve of Labor Day, so it didn't take much more convincing than a simple text that said "you don't REALLY want to spend your birthday stateside, do you?!"

A few days later we decided on the Now Larimar in Punta Cana. I'm a big fan of the Dominican Republic. I always tell everyone, Australia aside, Punta Cana has some of the most gorgeous beaches I have ever seen.

Per my usual routine, I religiously scoured TripAdvisor before booking the resort. Much to my surprise the negative comments were few and far between, which actually made me slightly hesitant. No resort can be THAT good, can it?!

The verdict? It can.

After a slightly rough 5am flight (it seemed like a good idea at the time of booking) out of Indy we were wheels down on the island by noon.  Truth be told, we did a whole lot of NOTHING the entire time, and it was amazing.

Laying by the pool, enjoying the beach, reading books, soaking up the sunshine, people watching, eating copious amounts of delicious food and indulging on all the fruity libations... it was pure bliss.

Being able to escape reality for any amount of time is always fantastic, being able to escape it and have some girly bonding time with your mama is even better!

And even though I'm a loyal Riu Resorts gal, I was pleasantly surprised by Now and would definitely go back!


(No affiliation with any resorts listed, not a sponsored post, just my honest opinion.)

wander

I have an inherent need to wander. You may have gathered that from my About Me.

I'm a self-professed beach lover. It wasn't until recently I've started to acquire an itch to maybe venture to a few places that aren't drenched in sand and sun.

My parents got me hooked on that silver tin can in the sky at an early age, with frequent family trips to Florida, and my first international trip graced the books in '97, when I was just 10 years old. (funny thing is, Dominican Republic truly doesn't seem to have changed much since then) 

Here are the places I've traveled to thus far, with linked posts where applicable:

Americas

• USA: Alabama, Arizona, California, Florida, Georgia, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Kentucky, Maryland, Missouri, Michigan, Nebraska, Nevada, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, South Carolina, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Wisconsin, Washington DC*

• Belize: Caye Caulker, San Pedro

• Nicaragua: Little Corn Island, L�on
• Mexico: Cabo San Lucas, Cancun, Mazatlan, Playa del Carmen, Puerto Vallarta

Oceania

• Australia: Brisbane, Cairns, Surfer's Paradise, Sydney
• Fiji: December 2015

Caribbean

• Jamaica: Negril, Montego Bay, Trewlawny

• USVI: St. Thomas

• Domincan Republic: Puerto Plata, Punta Cana

• Turks & Caicos: Grand Turk

• Puerto Rico: San Juan

• Bahamas: Nassau
• Aruba: Oranjestad 

Europe

• Ireland: Dublin, Cork
• England: April 2015
• France: April 2015

And some other favorite travel posts of mine:

• How to travel for free
• How to find cheap flights
• How to find your bag quick

C and J Down Under: Brisbane

After a whirlwind 3 days in Surfer's Paradise, we had a sad little train ride back to Brisbane. Not only were we sad to be leaving all the fun that was the Gold Coast, but also sad because we knew this was our last day in Australia, and a 14 hour flight back to LAX awaited us in the morning.

Upon arriving back at the train station (which is attached to the Brisbane airport) we made the tiny realization that the hotel we had booked in Brisbane was about an hour away, and roughly a $90 train ride. Or an even more expensive cab ride.

We momentarily debated renting a car. Let me backtrack, Jenn tried her damnedest to talk me into renting a car. I believe my exact words are "I don't even trust your driving in the states, let alone here, on the opposite side of the road. I don't want to die in our last 12 hours in Australia"... or something like that.

Thankfully, Brisbane airport's free wifi came to the rescue and I booked us a new hotel room 15 minutes from the airport, with free taxi service, all while Jenn cancelled our existing room. Before long we were checking into our room on Kingsford.

It was still early evening, we were starving, and not about to spend our last night down under cooped up in the confines of a 3star hotel room. We changed clothes & headed out the door to wander. A few blocks down we stumbled upon a gas station. Red Bull's in hand, we asked the clerk where to go and were promptly pointed in the direction of the pier. We split some Mexican food & had a few beers at the Burrito Bar while debating our next move. Lo and behold as soon as we left the pier we spied signs for a Containerval.

You heard me right... a festival focused on a plethora of shipping containers. Oh, Aussies, you do everything SO right. It was like food trucks meets box trucks, with a mix of hipster shopping and a bar'tainer.

It was, quite possibly, the cutest thing I have ever seen. There were a ton of seating areas and tables all made out of deconstructed pallets and shipping spools, astro turf, and SO many different food "containers".

Before we knew it, 10pm was rolling around and a thunderstorm was brewing. Our table was full of empty champagne glasses, half-eaten crepes, and the biggest bag of kettle corn ever made. Two giggly girls scurried out of the awning into the lightening-lit sky arm-in-arm and hurried in an attempt to make it back to the hotel before the storm hit.

Lo and behold, luck only goes so far, as we rounded the last corner the clouds let lose and we got SOAKED.

Cold, wet and drunk on champagne we sauntered back to that hotel room for one last sleep in the land down under. I think we stayed up half the night talking about what the past 10 days had thrown our way.