Tag: Birthday

Categories
Mexico

My Five Birthday Wishes in Cabo

I love my birthday. Despite 18 years of K-BFA education and 12 years of working, I’ve never actually gone to school or work on August 10th. And I’ve spent 10 out of my last 12 birthdays traveling. This year, I chose a more relaxing beach getaway with some friends, but I still had five wishes for my big day. The first was that I didn’t have to get behind the wheel, and the second was that I eat lots of guacamole. Sherri made sure that happened by making an early morning run to Costco.

My first time eating mass quantities from Costco and it’s in Mexico. WTF.

Yes we were in Mexico, and yes, she bought—gasp—PACKAGED guacamole. Two of them. But she also bought about 496 miniature chocolate brownies, a liter of Nutella, flan the size of a large deep dish pizza, and two bags of pretzels and chips that were taller than Belinda when stacked on top of one another. So all was forgiven. Plus, I can’t say that I wasn’t eager to shove layers of chocolate, flan, and Nutella in my mouth for breakfast once the guacamole was gone. Oh yeah, it happened. Over and over again.

Costco-sized flan with a chocolate cake underneath.

I had a slight hangover from the night before at Baha Junkie where I forgot that I was turning 27 not 21. It was ladies night and alcohol was free. Yes, FREE. The most dangerous word in my vocabulary. The vodka started flowing like it was spring break and I was convinced I was just drinking watered down juice. That is until I was dancing on the bar, spinning the wheel of embarrassment in an attempt to get free shots. Of course I landed on “booty stamp” which sobered me up instantly. I was only hours away from my 27th birthday and I was acting like a college girl. I realized nobody was paying attention to me, I wasn’t the life of the party, I was just a mild embarrassment. So I kept whatever dignity I had left and hopped down off the bar, after getting my booty stamp of course.

Well it SEEMED like a good idea at the time.

Of course I forgot that entire portion of the evening until laying on the beach the next day and seeing this gem on my backside.

The bartender could tell I was a little weirded out so he stayed away from my booty.

My third wish was to spend the day relaxing on an uncrowded beach, so after breakfast we drove about 35 minutes to get some sun and get rid of our headaches at Palmilla Beach. I’d forgotten to rinse my camera from the saltwater the day before and my camera started acting up so I was only able to get a few pictures. Happy birthday to me, right?

I tried to tackle this pelican. Failed miserably.

Palmilla Beach was a much smaller, less crowded beach than Medano Beach. The swimming area was protected from the harsh waves by a string of rocks crawling with black crabs. There was a concrete walkway leading to a handful of thatched umbrellas (free of charge might I add) set up along the beach. It looked like there was only one other group of tourists, and just a few locals picnicking, fishing, and gulping down fresh mango juice from the woman who pushed her tin cart through 100 degree heat. The sun was stealing what little water was left in my dehydrated, hungover body, and the saltwater was sure to zap up the rest. Our liters of ice water warmed up quickly, and we only made it a few hours before heading back to the pool at the apartment.

The waves that threatened the cove.
Starting to look tan! Or burnt…

My fourth birthday wish was an authentic Mexican dinner, so the girls and I decided upon Villa Serena just a street away from the house. Sadly I’m more of a beef and beans kind of girl, and this place was primarily seafood. But we all ordered and shared, and overall I’d say it was an average Mexican meal. Not really anything to write about, but that could just be because I was really craving some beef.

Their guacamole basically tasted like mashed avocado
Chile Relleno, beans and rice. Pretty good, but missing the beef.

Lastly, my fifth wish (I really sound like a greedy bitch, don’t I?) was that we start off a night of drinking at Cabo Wabo. Ever since I’d heard that the man (Sammy Hagar/Van Halen) my dad used to play on repeat after every Ozzy Osbourne album during my entire youth had his own bar in Cabo, I added it to my “semi-embarrassing places I must see” list.

Inside Cabo Wabo. Kind of felt like Florida or something.

I was stuffed from dinner and still exhausted from the night before. I just wanted to go home and get into stretchy pants and call it a night. But it was only 8pm. Determined not to feel old, I marched straight up to the bar and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea to get the night started.

Playing catchup with my Long Island Iced Tea

Usually Long Islands get me very drunk very fast, but this one, nothing. That’s what happens when I drink after eating, it’s impossible to get drunk for like, four hours. And what kind of world would this be if I celebrated my birthday sober? So I went back up to the bar and told the bartender I need his strongest drink and I need it fast. He mixed up some fruity concoction that was a tad bit on the sweet side for my liking, but I shut up and drank it. Still sober. Then it was time to ignore my hatred of tequila, because trying a shot of Cabo Wabo at Cabo Wabo was also on my list.

Yep, still don’t like tequila. But don’t let my face fool you, Cabo Wabo is actually pretty smooth.

Cabo Wabo was definitely a hangout for the slightly older crowd. We were among some of the youngest people there, and sadly we were seated watching our elders with rocking perms dance all around us. The memorabilia covering the walls was pretty awesome though, and after a few more drinks we finally got the nerve to bust out some dance moves of our own. I was just praying for Slash to walk out on stage and show these guys up.

Our average-joe cover band for the evening.

I ended up maintaining a responsible, age appropriate buzz before heading home around 1am. The top was off the Wrangler and once we got away from the city lights I was mesmerized by the blanket of stars in the sky. I stood up on the seat, flailing out the top of the Wrangler while yelling some gibberish at the universe about my birthday (don’t worry, we were on the 5mph side streets and Sherri was the 100% sober driver). When we got to the house I made myself one last birthday cocktail and laid on the edge of the second-story balcony, staring at the stars. Belinda and Sherri went to sleep and I vowed to stay on that balcony until I saw a shooting star. I was a couple of days early for the Perseid Meteor Shower, but just as I was about to pass out give up, a bright golden star shot across the sky. And just like that, another very happy birthday went down in the books.

 

Categories
Mexico

Warning: Landmarks May be Smaller Than They Appear

Warning: famous landmarks may be smaller than they appear on the internet

Despite my general lack of motivation to do much of anything while in Cabo, we made the trip out to the infamous arch at Land’s End, or El Arco as the locals call it. The arch is probably the most recognizable landmark in Cabo San Lucas, and it sits perched upon the southernmost tip of the Baja California Sur Peninsula where the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez meet. It’s definitely a tourist trap, but only if you let it be.

Heading out to Lover’s Beach on our “glass bottom boat”

Strong riptides and rocky coastlines make most of Cabo’s gorgeous beaches unswimmable. Medano Beach is the most popular with tons of resorts and nightlife nearby, but it’s also swarming with tourists and crowded with water sports. We spent about 10 seconds there before hopping onto a $10/person “glass bottom boat” for a ride out to the arch. I use the term glass bottom loosely because a 3ft x 1.5ft window does not make a glass bottom in my book.

Silly me to think that a glass bottom boat would have an entirely glass bottom.
Who needs a glass bottom when you can hang over the edge and dip your camera into the water?

We made our way through the gulf and the tourist boats seemed to multiply by the second from every wave that crashed around us. We saw the arch, and I wish I could make this sentence a little more exciting but honestly that’s how it left me feeling. It was cool, but much smaller than I’d thought. It probably would’ve been a lot cooler if the boat would’ve dropped us off on land rather than giving us a quick peak from 100 yards away. I’m just glad we only paid $10 to check it out.

I don’t know why I always thought the arch was much larger. Story of my life.
Typical tourist shot waaayyy in front of the arch
I wonder if I was supposed to tip him for taking these pics?
Oh yeah, we passed this lone sea lion too, who’d found the perfect napping spot.

We were dropped off at a small beach nestled between two gigantic rocks not far from the mainland. The place was overrun with sunbathers, snorkelers, and boats, so we ventured on over a small cluster of rocks for a bit more privacy.

No, just no. But you totally should’ve seen the front.

Belinda and Sherri set up shop on a secluded stretch of sand just on the other side of tourist hell, relaxing in the shade of towering rocks that resembled the canyons of Wall Street—only prettier. I tackled the deceivingly inviting blue water, and after several losing battles (just to be fair, the waves played nasty with wardrobe malfunctions, face plants, and mouthfuls of saltwater and sand), I needed a break from the bitch that is the Sea of Cortez. Even Belinda, born and raised on the beaches of Australia, got knocked off her feet more than once. I decided it was time for me to moved on over mountains of rocks towards Lover’s Beach.

A nice climb, not too daunting.
Right after I snapped this pic a huge wave came and completely wiped me out.
The cave on the way to Lover’s Beach. Saw a few empty beer cans and graffiti in there. Damn kids.

The smartest thing I did all day was break away from the tourists in search of Lover’s and Divorce Beach. I let go of all my vain concerns about jiggly body bits and set out in nothing but my bikini, sunglasses, and my camera strapped to my wrist. I figured the less shit I had on me while navigating between slippery rocks and angry waves, the less likely I was to break a limb.

Is beach missing a C? Or is this just some horrible kerning?
This kid was fun as hell to watch. I thought about asking for lessons but again, jiggly bits.

I’d guess that it took about 25 minutes of strategic rock hopping to reach the small but serene Lover’s Beach. And best of all there were only two kids surfing and a few canoodling European couples (how fitting). The water was even more lover-ly; it didn’t seem like it wanted to pillage you and hold you hostage at all. I made my way up from the water and onto the tan sand of paradise only to realize it was actually quite rocky on my bare feet. But I had made it this far, I had to tough it out and make it to Divorce Beach.

Lover’s Beach from the boat. The passage between the two rocks leads to Divorce Beach.

After about ten steps it became clear that what looked like a quick, easy jaunt was more like walking on hot coals and shards of glass. I don’t know if the rocky sand was cutting or burning my feet more, but it hurt. Seeing that I had the distance of about two city blocks ahead of me, I picked up the pace. And my thought process went a little something like this:

“Shit, should I turn back around? Should I sit down on my butt real quick and rock from cheek to cheek, just until my feet cool off?” I sped up even more, and now my jiggly bits were in fact, jiggling. “What if I trip and fall and burn my face off in this scorching fire glass? Is there any shade ANYWHERE?”

It took a lot of uncontrollable cursing and unwarranted bikini jogging (yes, just like a scene from Baywatch, but minus the hot bikini babe and plus Slimer from the Ghostbusters), but I made it to the Pacific Ocean just in time to save my feet from amputation. Once semi-cooled down, I realized I was the only person on this side of the beach. Suddenly all was right in the world again. So quiet, peaceful, and relaxing. Watching the power of the waves could only be described as one of those “mother nature’s a badass” moments.

The beautiful, powerful waves at Divorce Beach.
I need to try surfing, like soon.
Appy Boob day! 27!
No tourists for as far as the eye can see
End verdict: Divorce Beach > Lover’s Beach

I stayed at Divorce Beach for a good hour or so until a few more people found out about my secret. Most of me was enjoying the scenery, but my blistered feet were dreading the sprint back across the fiery pits of hell. Luckily I must’ve burnt off the layer of skin that has any feeling the first time around, so the way back was a cakewalk. Yay for third degree burns!

 

 

 

Categories
Mexico

I Got a Pair of Balls for my 27th Birthday

A huge part of growing up for me has been learning to admit that I actually do have weaknesses. A few of mine are that I suck at being sick, I don’t know when to put the glass of whiskey down and call it a night, I have a literal addiction to junk food, and I can’t really control the tears upon waking up from anesthesia.

And then there’s driving.

I’ve had a nine year love/hate relationship with driving. It’s kind of like that abusive relationship that makes you fear for your life whenever you attempt to take control, but when it’s good it’s OH-so-good.

I waited until I was 18 to get my driver’s license. I failed my driving test the first time (nailed the parallel parking, failed the actual driving part) but got it the second time around. I only drove within a 20 mile radius of my house. The same routes between home, work and school, over and over again. I never left my comfort zone and therefore always remained terrified of driving down any unfamiliar road. Except for that one time that I jumped behind the wheel in Pennsylvania and woke up to the sound of a horn as I gallantly steered my way out from underneath the semi. But that’s a whole nother story.

I only had my license for three years before moving to New York City and I haven’t needed a car since. I drive every once in a while when I go back to Ohio for a visit, and I’ve only recently discovered that my comfort level improves significantly when I’m behind the wheel of an SUV rather than a compact car.

Cabo was supposed to be a trip where nothing really too extraordinary happened. That was until the whole subject of renting a car came up.

Since we were staying in a house 20 minutes outside of downtown, Sherri made the suggestion. Sure, I thought, but I’m not driving it. I want a lot of things for my birthday but dying is not one of them. Then she told me her license was expired and Belinda revealed that she has never had a driver’s license to begin with. My initial instinct was “no. I’ve never driven outside of Toledo, OH, there is no way in hell I’m going to try driving in Mexico.” But then I realized how ridiculously immature that sounded and I couldn’t believe I was being such a huge vagina. I take risks all the time, and here I am too much of a sissy to do something that 16 year old kids do every day. I’m 27. It’s time to man up, grow a pair, and drive a fucking car.

When we got to the rental agency I decided fuck it- it’s literally been a lifelong dream of mine to drive a Jeep Wrangler with the top off through the desert, so why not now? If I’m going to die on a Mexican highway I’m at least going to do it in an awesome car.I was finally getting pumped about driving when they told me the Wrangler wasn’t available and I immediately started pricing out the cost to take taxis all week. I wasn’t ready to tackle Mexico in a fucking Jetta that looked like I could total it by hitting a cactus. I think they sensed my panic because they told me the car would be available in a couple of hours if we want to take the Jetta just for a bit. So we did, and I drove it all of about 100 yards down the road for some food before coming back for the exchange.

My best “I’m so terrified excited” face at the car rental agency.

I guess I should’ve Googled some stuff like street signs and important Spanish words, but it probably wouldn’t have done much good. I think I was the only person who knew what a stop sign was (nevermind the red light that I completely blew through, let’s just pretend that never happened). Not to mention the fact that nobody in Mexico follows the speed limit. I would be going 80kmph in a 40kmph or 100kmph in a 75 and people were flying by me.

Okay this car went perfectly with this house.

It’s worth noting that when I’m nervous I drive with my hands clenched at 10 and 2, hunched over the wheel like a little old lady. You can bet I did a lot of that which was definitely not helping my already horrible game I was trying to spit at the Mexican men. And I can’t listen to loud music or hold an actual conversation without screaming. In the neighborhood we were staying in there were speed bumps every 15 feet that would even make tanks nervous. Some were traditional speed bumps, others small ditches and lost countries. It’s a damn good thing we were in an off-road vehicle.

“Hurry, take my pic while I’m actually driving. No one is going to believe me. Oh wait, let me at least try to look relaxed. What’s the opposite of 10 and 2?”

But I did it. Not only did I convince myself to tackle one of my biggest fears and drive in another country, I actually really enjoyed it. I drove about 45 minutes from the airport to the house and back, and a few trips into town here and there. Yes I made Sherri drive on my birthday (so what if she had an expired license, it’s Mexico). And best of all, I got to check “driving a Jeep Wrangler with the top off through a desert” off of my bucket list. My 27th birthday will forever be the time that I finally stopped being such a sissy and realized that driving really isn’t that scary at all.

Looking like a total badass…parked in the driveway.
Seriously, who smiles like this while parked in an SUV?
Categories
Lodging Mexico

$300 For Another Amazing Birthday Getaway

It’s that time of year again. That time when I celebrate the welcoming of my existence for an entire month and refuse to work on the actual date of August 10th. It’s birthday month!

This year’s kind of a big deal. No, it’s not my 21st or 30th, but my whole life I’ve had this notion that this would be the year I’d finally have my shit together and it’d be the best year of my life (I’ve also always felt that I was going to die at age 34, so hopefully my premonitions are completely effed). But I wanted to set the stage and start off on the right foot.

I’m turning 27. Old enough to know what the hell I like and what I want. I know that I like Mexican food. And I know that I’ve never been to Mexico. So why wouldn’t I go spend a few days on a beach in Mexico, shoveling guacamole into my mouth ALL DAY LONG? If that doesn’t sound like a happy birthday then I don’t know what does.

I wasn’t looking for a cultural experience this trip, nor was I looking for much of anything that required excessive planning or strenuous physical and mental effort. And it would be nice if I could convince some awesome people to come along with me. So I chose Cabo San Lucas.

My bank account hasn’t quite recovered from Thailand just yet (where’s my bailout?), but that’s where frequent flyer miles and friend-of-a-friend deals came in. Flights were running about $650 RT but thanks to my habit of plastic abuse I got one for just $113 out of pocket. I somehow managed to convince two of my friends to tag along so I knew that was going to make the hotel even more affordable, but I didn’t know just HOW affordable. My friend Sherri came to celebrate her August 2nd birthday, and as it turned out her mom’s friend owns a vacation home down there. He let us rent it out for $100 a night—which pretty much makes him the coolest person ever. A PRIVATE HOME FOR A HUNDRED DOLLARS A NIGHT. Divided by three. That was music to my cheap little ears! That meant no tourists, no screaming children, no feeling super old around the younger 20-somethings at the pool, no awkward moments after realizing the guy you’re flirting with is only 18, and no shared bedroom because it was a freaking HOUSE!

Yep. All this space for three girls. Did I mention he only charged us $100 a night?
The view from the balcony. If you look closely between the two rocks on the left, you can see the infamous arch—which was MUCH smaller than expected. Story of my life.
Not a bad spot to enjoy breakfast.
I napped all over this living area.
The dining area and the incredible view.
I may or may not have had a tequila-fueld heart to heart with this wooden Pope man.
One of many beautiful sunsets from the balcony

 

All in all I only spent around $300 between the flight, rental car, house, food, and drinks for five days in beautiful—yet extremely hot—Cabo San Lucas. I gained 7 lbs from eating like a maniac, danced on a bar, got a “booty stamp,” almost fell off a second story balcony, saw a shooting star, and unexpectedly checked something off my bucket list. But more on all of that later. Happy birthday month to me!

Categories
Caribbean

Full Moon Party at Bomba’s Shack

I hate to admit it, but I was completely oblivious to the full moon parties of Thailand before booking my trip to the BVI. But thanks to the internet, a quick Google search showed me photos: minimal clothing, flaming jump ropes, glowing body paint, endless shots, and sand-covered bodies passed out in the sand. Though it did look like an STD-ridden, overcrowded, sweaty mess, I was tempted. Sign me up.

So you can imagine my excitement after learning about the Full Moon Parties at Bomba’s Shack in the BVI. But another Google image search showed me hardly the same scene: tame partying, sober faces, and a bit more conservative crowd of Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt donning tourists posing for photos. But Bomba’s Shack was just up the hill from our resort, so we spent our final evening in Tortola partying with the locals.

 

Get naked, get a free tshirt
Bomba’s truck

Bomba’s shack is exactly that—a shack built from what appears to be tons of scraps and debris that has washed ashore. Tattered, dirty underwear adorned the walls that look as though the slightest breeze will send it crumbling  right into the ocean that lies just steps away. There’s Sharpie-scribbled writing on nearly every conceivable surface, and of course, everybody is on island time. Oddly enough, it did look like the kind of bar that’d be jam-packed any given night in the LES of New York.

Bomba’s Shack
The panties

Intrigued by stories of others’ Full Moon Party celebrations, and intoxicated by the hopeful anticipation of a wildly fun evening I’d be struggling to remember in the morning, I got suckered into buying the $50 wristband for a night of unlimited alcohol and mushroom tea. It seemed like a good excuse to ignore my rational self from trying to keep my shit together as much as possible for my early AM flight. I figured I’d leave it up to the fate of my “how much I can drink : how many hours until the 6am ferry” ratio.

I immediately bee-lined past the flashing lights, live music, and drunk dancing, straight into the dark, secluded corner of the lot to get some tea. There was a makeshift bar set up thats only light was from the full moon and the flame beneath the boiling pot of  mushroom tea. The guy serving up the tea was the exact image of a guy you’d normally steer clear of if you saw him walking down the street in New York in broad daylight. Even if it means walking a block out of your way. He was speaking gibberish and he wouldn’t give me any tea unless I walked over to him behind the bar.

The teamaster, succeeding at freaking me out

Having never done drugs in my life, I was a bit nervous about the effects of this mushroom tea so I was double fisting a scalding hot mug and a backup vodka pineapple. Suddenly my mind was racing. Was it strong? Would I trip instantly, or is it the kind of thing that would take a while to set in? Would I realize I was tripping? Would I trip at all? Having not done my research, I didn’t know if it was strong stuff, nor did I really want to find out when I’m 1,700 miles from home with no cell service, and an early flight to catch. So after I started to feel the vodka kick in I called it quits after one cup of tea.

Before long we were dancing in the crowds of people to live music, and I felt a dog suddenly nibbling on my toes as they kicked out of the sand. We were there just a week after carnival so apparently most of the tourists had left by then, but every other person we had met during our 5 days of island hopping was at this party. We met tons of people, including some guys from New York that I was so nice as to get free drinks with my unlimited wristband, and this guy who’s souvenir was to have everyone sign his shirt. So I drew a smiley face along with my name around his nipple.

My dancing partner, who thought my toes looked like dog treats
Souvenir nipple signing!

Then hours of dancing followed by an increase in being hit on, until most of the couples were calling it a night and the locals were out to pick up any leftover single, drunk tourists they could run off with. The Full Moon Party was coming to an end. And I wasn’t nearly as drunk as I’d thought I’d be for $50.

Guys who claimed to be from New York
Stephanie & I with Eric our cab driver

We headed back to the room to finish packing up the remnants of a wonderful vacation for a 6a ferry back to the airport in St Thomas. Luckily we made it on time with only mild hangovers, but the BVI’s couldn’t send us off without one last adventure: the ferry caught on fire in the middle of the ocean. We didn’t see any flames, just choked on the thick smoke that was pouring in from under the floorboards. Luckily it wasn’t too bad, and after vocalizing several Titanic-like concerns, we were able to swap ships and make it to St Thomas just in time for our ironically delayed flights.

Categories
Caribbean

Day Tripper: Virgin Gorda and Jost Van Dyke

I love boats. I’ll take any excuse to head out on the water on just about anything that at least partially floats (unless it involves Rose Dawson and a life-or-death situation). I love gliding across the water towards a seemingly endless horizon to the hum of the boat’s engine, feeling the crisp wind steal the breath right from my lungs. Especially when the 360° view is nothing but deep blue waters laid like a welcoming path through the perfectly spaced mountains. So it only made sense to spend some time island-hopping down in the Virgin Islands.

As luck would have it, on one of the nicest mornings of our trip our speedboat journey was canceled due to mechanical problems with the boat. So rather than sit around on the beach, we headed over to Road Town and jumped on the ferry to Virgin Gorda.

The tree-covered mountains looked soft and lickable

After gliding through the sea and mountains, we docked at Virgin Gorda and frankly, I was struggling to see what the big deal was. Sure it was nice, but it looked no different than the numerous islands we’d just sped past. So we hopped in the back of a poorly-marked pickup truck and made our way to the Baths, hoping for something to change.

We jumped out at a seemingly desolate area with signs leading us towards a gravel path that weaved through a patch of trees. We started on our way, encountering a few peculiar chameleon-esque lizards along the way (which also looked lickable for reasons other than the mountains).

Clearly these lizards aren’t that good at camouflaging

Then we reached the top of the baths and it all made sense. We were staring out at slivers of beautiful, postcard-worthy beaches peaking out from gigantic boulders. I mean huge boulders. The luxurious, P-Diddy style yachts anchored just offshore looked laughable in size compared to these boulders that were strewn about the beach.

Does anyone else see the angry face in this one?

Ohhh, so THIS is what Paradise looks like!
Posing for my “Little Mermaid” moment

There were plenty of nooks and bays to set up shop and do some sun-bathing, or go wading in the crystal clear water. Or you could take the more adventurous route and squeeze your way through the boulders along the Devil’s Bay Trail.

The sign leading you through an obscure 1ft passageway to enter the cave

We opted for adventure. Bikini-clad and barefoot, we carried our snorkeling gear and squeezed our way through the narrow passage to begin our journey.

Hunched over butt shot

The hike winds on for about 20 minutes through caves and pools of water trapped by enormous boulders. Beams of sunlight squeezed through every tiny crack, leaving some spots dark. Turning, crawling, climbing, squeezing through narrow passageways better suited for children. Or cats. Ropes and wooden ladders provided assistance at times, as crabs scuttled by without hassle.

Climbing through the caves
Stephanie up ahead as I took 8 million photos
Probably my favorite spot inside the caves
Stopping to relax and snap a pic inside the caves. Yes we needed a flash

Once we made our way through to Devil’s Bay we did some snorkeling. Stephanie had had enough so I ventured on by myself. I’ve done my fair share of just-off-the-beach snorkeling, so I decided to get a bit adventurous and navigate my way through the caves. Floating serenely and completely lost in the moment, I saw a curious blue fish taking an interest in me. I started to follow it, unbeknownst to everything else around me. It kept looking back as if to say “hurry up!” (though I’m sure it was more like “what is that and why is it following me?”).

I can’t help but notice the sand patch lining up with the fish’s tail looks like a fart cloud

Before long, I was following an entire school of fish as they swayed with the current and made their way through a two-foot-wide opening into a canyon. I gave it a second thought, but before I could turn around the current had swept me in. The coral was so high all I could do was try to stay afloat while sucking in my gut, and try to master Jedi mind-tricks to push myself away from the rocks. I had a brief moment of panic, wondering if I’d be able to get out considering there was hardly enough depth to properly swim. And more importantly, do sharks hide in caves?

New friends
Coral lining the underwater entry to the canyon

Just when the water deepened and I was able to exhale, I turned to see a pinkish blob floating in front of me. I was in a state of confusion, intrigue, and general euphoria with the peace of the ocean, so I—and by I, I mean the current— decided to swim towards it. The pink blob was also interested in the flesh blob in front of it, so it lunged towards me in quick, assertive motions. Before I realized it I was face to face with a jellyfish, which appeared ready to latch on. Only knowing that these things can sting and I wasn’t ready to ask Stephanie to pee on my face, I turned around and swam as fast as my finned feet could take me, over the coral, through the canyon, around the boulders, and all the way back onto shore.

Yes I managed to snap a picture once I got a safe distance away
While I was battling my new arch nemesis, Stephanie was meditating in peace on this rock

After the threat of heart failure and subsequent/necessary relaxing on the secluded beach, we made our way back through the boulders and stopped for a quick bite to eat. I took part in observing an intense polarized conversation between Stephanie and a local: Stephanie, arguing for modern communication in a world that would fail without constant iPhone connectivity, against the BVI-born guy who’d spent some time in the overwhelming streets of NYC before moving back to his simpler, more enriching island life. Shit got real. Let’s just say I’m glad neither of them were packing heat.

I felt the need to ask the latter member of the argument for a pic to thank him for his troubles

The next day our boat charter was ready to go. Stephanie—the poor girl had to go all the way to the Caribbean to realize she wasn’t a fan of island time, beaches, boats, or water—wasn’t feeling up for the ride so I went solo.

The boats at Soper’s Hole, Road Town
The incredibly nice family from Barcelona I’d met, and wish I had a way to get in touch with

I was on a boat with about 9 other people from Arkansas and Barcelona aboard the Mystique, which I can’t speak highly enough about. The crew were all around great people. Helpful, fun, and they kept us happy with unlimited rum punch and snacks. We anchored out at a tiny secluded island no bigger than a soccer field for snorkeling on the way to Jost Van Dyke. Having grown some balls since the previous day’s underwater experience, I set out to explore the underwater world again. Thankfully this time was much less eventful. There was plenty of colorful marine life, but this time it was terrified of me, not trying to attack my face.

The Mystique, and some other random boat
That’s Captain Kim to you!
Isolated Paradise
Snorkeling break
One last pic before swimming back to the boat

We made our way to Jost Van Dyke for lunch at Jewel’s Snack Shack. Having a chat with Jewel, the hut’s vibrantly outspoken owner, and reading the words of wisdom that adorn the walls are both reason enough to stop for a drink. Plus it’s home of the fabulous “Party Punch,” which she calls “rum punch with a touch of class.” Maybe it was the convincing marketing, or the extra sprinkle of nutmeg on top, but this really was the best rum punch I’d had on the islands.

The words to live by left by fellow travelers decorate the walls at Jewel’s
Mmm…Rum Punch

After scarfing down a hot dog quicker than it took to heat it up, the bulk of us made our way over to the Soggy Dollar Bar. I grabbed a Virgin Islands Islands Summer Ale and kicked back in my first hammock ever, which, though it was extremely comfortable and just as relaxing as you’d imagine, the task of getting out gracefully proved to be quite daunting.

The Soggy Dollar Bar gets its name because they let you pay —you guessed it—soggy dollars
Awkward tourist photo in front of the Soggy Dollar Bar

Before I knew it, the day was coming to an end. I started making my way back to the boat before realizing that the only thing standing (technically swimming) in the way of me climbing onboard was a giant barracuda. Great. Jellyfish flashbacks ensued.

Ooo…Barracuda!

Luckily I made it back injury-free, and planted myself in one of the seats at the front of the boat. I was accompanied only by my decent buzz as everyone else hid in the shade. I spent the next hour speeding away from the sun with the wind in my face. And I struggled to remember a more perfect moment in my 26 years of life.

Enjoying a moment

Categories
Caribbean Food + Drinks

Getting High for Birthday Dinner in the BVI

I am by no means a food connoisseur. Hell, one of my favorite foods is the Cheesy Gordita Crunch from Taco Bell. But I do have nearly 27 years of experience in eating. That’s gotta give me some credibility, right?

Living in New York for nearly six years has given me a slight tendency to judge and compare food and dining experiences based on the best meals I’ve had in the city. But from my accumulation of previous feeding time adventures in the Caribbean, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when asking around for a nice restaurant to go to for birthday dinner. I’ve seen everything from folding chairs and paper plates, to fish covered with melted cheese. Several tourists and locals recommended the Bananakeet Cafe on top of Windy Hill, so we figured what the hell, why not? The name didn’t sound like much more than a simple grab-and-go spot for fruit and coffee, but we were told the view alone was worth it. With the tagline “The Higher You Get… The Better The View,” you can’t help but wonder what’s so great about this view. I can assure you, it did not disappoint my eyes or my tongue for my first dinner as a 26 year old.

Bananakeet Cafe, “The Higher You Get, The Better The View”

Described as “Caribbean fusion with a view,” the open-patio restaurant is situated alongside The Heritage Inn, with a tempting little pool between the two. The covered area near the bar opens up to a full seating area on the deck looking over the entire bay. And the infamous sunset. It could only be described as every cliche you would ever use to describe a perfect sunset, painting the sky with colors and dramatic clouds. The photos just couldn’t do it justice, but I kept snapping anyway. If you go to Banakeet Cafe, definitely plan on being there a bit before the sun goes down!

Sunset from Bananakeet Cafe
The view changes every minute, it’s hard not to snap a million pics in one sitting

Plus another great part about being there during sunset, you get a free sunset shot. But let’s just pretend they were free birthday shots because everyone in the world was obviously pumped about my birthday.

The evolution of Corona ads
Happy birthday dinner to me!

I was surprised to see a menu full of things that I couldn’t wait to put in my mouth. So I went with pumpkin soup, coconut fried shrimp, and sushi. Delicious, quality food, and an equally stellar presentation. Stephanie had the vegetarian pasta which she also said was incredible.

Pumpkin soup
Coconut fried shrimp
Sushi with what tasted like a peanut-based sesame soy sauce
Vegetarian Pasta

The food was delicious and fresh, and the service was great. Our waiter was friendly and kept offering to take pictures of us, and totally understood when I jumped up in the middle of ordering and told him to hold on while I snapped “the perfect sunset photo.” He even gave me a free birthday dessert! It certainly wasn’t a budget meal, but entirely worth every dollar.

And besides, it was my birthday so it was Stephanie’s treat! Thanks Stephanie!

Categories
Caribbean Lodging Review

5 Nights at the Long Bay Beach Resort & Villas

During our five night trip to the British Virgin Islands, Stephanie and I stayed at the Long Bay Beach Resort & Villas on Tortola. The grounds were gorgeous—52 acres of sprawling, semi-secluded rooms nestled throughout the lush hills. We managed to snag a beachfront deluxe room for just $550 for five nights through TripAlertz. The room was clean and comfortable, the bathroom and walk-in closet were easily the size of most budget New York City apartments, and the full-sized window in the shower made me feel like a bit of an exhibitionist. But how can anyone resist opening the window to the sound of the waves and the moon glowing over the ocean just steps away?

View from the pool area
View from our balcony
Our beachfront deluxe room—bet you can’t guess which bed is mine!

The private beach right outside of our room was gorgeous to look at, but not the best for swimming. It wasn’t horrible by any means, but it was always wavy and some spots were a bit rocky just a few feet into the water. Our friends stayed at the resort the week before us and the one girl actually broke her toe swimming in the ocean on the first day of her vacation. Also there were signs all over the place warning of strong riptides, so swimmers beware!

Pulling a lounge chair into the water for some relaxation
The private beach area
Some pretty serious waves

We never made it down in time for the breakfast buffet, but we did order a proper breakfast at the resort’s restaurant 1748 a couple of times. It was good, not great, and a bit overpriced for the portion size. I only splurged for a juice with my meal on the first day because the serving size was hardly worth the price.

Beachside breakfast at 1748—cinnamon raisin french toast, watermelon and OJ

I usually can’t understand why anyone would go to a beachfront resort and then spend time at the pool. But as my aging skin quickly realized, sometimes you need a break from all of the harsh saltwater. Luckily the Long Bay Beach Resort has a fantastic pool with a swim-up bar and grill, friendly bartenders, and a water slide. What more could you possibly need? Oh did I mention the view is great too? Tropical green hills on one side, and a deck overlooking the ocean on the other.

Piña colada time in the pool
Oh bartender, if you only knew what you were getting yourself into by handing me that bottle
Acting like a drunk little kid on the water slide while simultaneously scaring them
Rum punch with the secret ingredient: nutmeg!

Taking a stroll West down the beach to Belmont Bay made me second guess all of those times I ever made fun of any hopeless romantic who ever said “I enjoy long walks on the beach.” This stretch of beach is almost uninhibited, with pristine, soft sand and the occasional coconut here and there, and nothing but the sound of the ocean.

The untouched soft sand at Belmont Bay
Belmont Bay

We asked a few people where was the best beach was within walking distance from the resort. Everyone pointed us in the same direction just beyond Belmont Bay. So we started our trek down this road a few yards from the beach, through the trees and private drives, around Belmont Pond, and right onto Smuggler’s Cover.

Surfboard fork in the road
Nature Boy Hidden Beach Bar, sans Nature Boy

We continued on for another 30-45 minutes on a gravel path through the trees until we stopped hearing the sounds of the ocean. It was hot, and we were starting to wonder if maybe we’d taken a wrong turn.

The path to Smuggler’s Cover
Smuggler’s Cove

Just as quickly as we’d started discussing the idea of turning around, what appeared to be a mirage of paradise emerged from beyond the thick green forest. The non-strenuous but sweaty haul was definitely worth it. This beach was a secluded, private oasis of crystal clear, calm water and no rocks and nonexistent waves almost as calm as a swimming pool.

I paid $8 to rent some snorkeling gear to swim around for an hour or so. Normally it’s $10 for 30 mins, but I don’t think they’re too strict about any prices at that beach. I started off on a stretch of reefs close to the shore where there were massive schools of tiny fish. Then I swam further out as the fish got even bigger, until a grey fish that was about 3 feet long caught my eye . My first reaction was “shark!” as I bee-lined back to shore thinking about the terrifying JAWS ride at Disney World.

A wall of fish which was slightly unnerving to swim through
Safe back at the shore

Before heading back to the resort another local told us to walk into the trees and check out the Lincoln that Queen Elizabeth II had riden in on her visit to the island in 1976. I was intrigued, and expecting to see some sort of memorialized car in pristine condition. We walked for a few minutes without seeing anything, and realized that yet again we were taking some strange man’s advice and wandering off into the forest alone. But alas, we realized this rusted pile of junk was indeed the Lincoln.

The Lincoln that Queen Elizabeth II rode in in 1976

All in all the Long Bay Beach Resort was a nice place to stay. It’s also just a short walk or even shorter cab ride to Bomba’s Shack (hosting the Virgin Islands’ Full Moon Party each month), and Sebastian’s on the Beach. It’s about a 15-20 minute cab ride to Road Town where most of the ferries arrive/depart for other islands, but if you’re only planning a day or two of excursions, Long Bay Beach is a great place to relax, unwind, and enjoy a sunset or three.

Categories
Caribbean

When You and a Friend End up on an Accidental Honeymoon

On August 9th I set out to celebrate my 26th birthday on the furthest secluded beach I could get to on a budget. Though the free flight and amazingly low hotel price may have been a steal, I learned two very important things during my six day getaway: the British Virgin Islands are not a place to visit if you’re on a tight budget, and you shouldn’t visit during low-season if you’re young, single, and looking for any kind of nightlife fun.

In case you missed the previous post, let me preface this story with the fact that this was originally a birthday trip I had planned for myself and my (now ex) boyfriend. But shit happens, so my friend Stephanie stepped in and said she’d go. I met her at the airport in St Thomas and we took a $20 cab ride to the $55RT ferry to Tortola. I was excited to finally cruise around the islands in the warm Caribbean air, but that was hardly the case. The boat was fully enclosed and looked like it was about to sink at any minute (it actually did catch fire on the way back to St Thomas, but more on that later). We made it over to West End Tortola safely in about 45 minutes, and finally one last $10 cab ride got us to the resort in Long Bay.

Loading people into the ferry

Fast forward to check-in. When we arrived at the hotel I was greeted as Mrs. Edwards (my ex’s last name) for the next two days, no matter how many times I told them otherwise. Even though the reservation was in my name, they just couldn’t get it through their heads that he wasn’t there. It’s a good thing I wasn’t upset over this breakup, or it could’ve been painstakingly similar to the Sex and the City movie.

After checking in we hopped into a van and our driver dodged chickens and roosters to drive up a steep hill, around to a secluded entrance and down a few stairs to our room. It was a room with only one bed, even though I had specifically called and changed the request myself. Fortunately it was off-season and the place wasn’t really that busy, so we hopped back in the car and drove back down the hill to a beachfront two bed room with a balcony looking out over the ocean. Jackpot upgrade.

The view from our balcony
The steps down to the beach, as seen from our balcony

We both arrived absolutely starving, but my wallet was already feeling a little bit strained so we decided that the best thing to do was to get into our bikinis and run out to the beach to watch the sunset.

Me enjoying the sunset from the ocean in Long Bay

Once we’d basked in the glory of paradise until our fingers were pruney, we ventured down to the resort’s beachfront restaurant, 1748, to fill our bellies. The place couldn’t have been more romantic: candlelit, open-air seating along the ocean, with the sound of waves crashing, and four other love-drunk couples gazing into each others’ eyes as they shared desserts. We were going to need wine for this.

Thank God for alcohol…
…and food!

We both opted for a light dinner (Stephanie because she has this mysterious thing called self-control, and me because I was more concerned with getting a buzz off the wine). We took our time enjoying our minestrone and bruschetta, as the couples began to head back to their hotel rooms one by one. Before long it was 930 and we were getting glares from the waitresses. We took that as our cue to end our first day of our accidental honeymoon and head back to the room ourselves.