The island of Molokai is an unspoiled paradise — the last Hawaiian island that has held out against cruise ships and mass tourism — but for 100 years to more than 8,000 people, it was a prison.
On the north shore of the island is a secluded peninsula surrounded by high sea cliffs on three sides and an impassable coastline on the fourth. In the 1800s Hansen’s disease, commonly known as leprosy, became more prevalent. And as there was no cure, countries around the world created specific colonies for the ill people to live in. It was on this spot in Molokai in 1866 that King Kamehameha V created Kalaupapa.
I wrote this on my birthday – but it’s pretty spot on for New Years (I consider my birthday to be a quasi New Year)…
It’s a big old piece on why I spend my birthday alone every year – by design. Would love your thoughts on it.
Chilling in Nicaragua and having the time of my life
It started a few years ago. I was turning 40 — a big birthday for those who care — and some friends were planning a dinner, a party, or … something. And at first I was fine with that, excited even. Unlike others, I’ve always kind of liked getting older and have had a true, firm belief that life for me would start at 40, as opposed to the common misperception that once you get gray hair, it’s over. But then I started thinking … and, as per usual when I think too much, got less excited.
“I know just exactly what is going to happen,” I thought. “It will be a large party — I won’t get to really speak to anyone, I will be supremely stressed about not being able to greet people properly and whether or not they are having a good time, I will drink too much, and I will end up at home with (my dog) Karl.” And just like that, I wasn’t all that excited about my birthday anymore.
And then I thought, “Hold up — let’s start the second half of your life the way you want to finish it. What have you always wanted to do but never done?” And immediately I thought of the pyramids. So, in a fit of pique I did it. Continue reading →
Strolling through the Cities of the Dead with the Mary Poppins of dead people isn’t as creepy as it sounds, I swear. But it does make the city come alive in ways you’ve never imagined. Continue reading →
According to Cajun legend, deep in the Louisiana Swamp is the Rougarou — a large, werewolf-like half-man, half-beast creature who preys on people who venture too far into its terrain.
Photo (modified) by Angie Garrett/Flickr. Design by Lauren DeLuca for Yahoo Travel.
Regarding this legendary beast, History.com says, “The Cajun legend of the Rougarou can take on multiple forms. Originally derived from French stories of the ‘loup-garu,’ or ‘wolf man,’ the monster is most commonly described as a bayou-dwelling werewolf with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp teeth. The beast is usually said to be a cursed man who must shed another’s blood in order to break its spell and reassume human form, but the tale varies according to the teller. In some versions, the Rougarou can turn its victims just by locking eyes with them; in others, it takes the form of a dog or pig rather than a wolf. Still others paint it as a shape shifter that can assume different human and animal forms at will. Because it can switch its appearance so easily, some even conflate the creature with the legendary Skunk Ape of southeastern U.S. swamp lore. In most Louisiana parishes, the Rougarou myth is employed as a kind of cautionary tale. Children are told that the fiend will come for them if they don’t behave, and Catholics are warned that it hunts down those who break Lent.”
A rougarou on display at the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans. (Photo: praline3001/Flickr)
Since I was in that neck of the woods, I decided to try and see it for myself and check out another supposedly tall tale — the ginormous DinoGator, an alligator that measures up to 50 feet long. Think Lake Placid on steroids.
One of the most important things in a culture is its folklore — tales that have been passed down over the centuries from family to family that shape the morals and fabric of a society. In Western society, these folktales have been watered down via Disney or the Internet, but in a secluded country like Greenland, which was isolated for so long from traditionally modern society, the tales are not only still told verbally, but also performed.
The story telling isn’t just about the dance. (Photo: A Broad Abroad)
At the National Theatre of Greenland, I met the principal, Makka Kleist, and her dance student Kimmernaq Kjeldsen.
Layovers are usually pretty rank. Most are only a few hours – too short to go see the city you’re laid over in, yet too long to not go a little bit crazy with boredom as you stare at countless airport monitors, hoping your flight won’t be delayed and you will be stuck even longer at the airport. By the time you get to your actual destination all you want to do is pass out.
The magical Blue Lagoon geothermal spa in Iceland is more than worth a little travel detour. (Photo: Chris Ford/Flickr)
But, if you took advantage of Icelandair’s free layover on your way to Europe, and are in Reykjavik, Iceland, you are in luck! Just twenty minutes from the airport is the Blue Lagoon – the world’s largest geo thermal spa… and a hell of a better option for wasting a few hours until your next flight than gobbling down McDonald’s and trying to fall asleep in a straight backed chair.
Why spend your layover in the airport when you can spend it here? (Photo: Horst Ossinger/dpa/Corbis)
The Blue Lagoon was created in 1976 in the middle of a lava field. Man made, the lagoon fed by the water output of the nearby geothermal power plant Svartsengi and is renewed every two days. This promise of fresh water – along with Iceland’s strict hygiene code and the chance to relax before hopping on my flight to Greenland – got me out of the airport and into a bathing suit during a snowstorm. It even got me to enter a body of water with a swim up bar [Note: I have a deep-rooted fear of swim-up bars. Everyone starts drinking, and no one ever gets out to go to the bathroom. Especially during a snowstorm. You do the math].
Regardless, I just wanted to get out of the airport and relax. So, off I went – and thank god I did. Despite a snowstorm, I jammed my winter fat into a swimsuit, took the obligatory shower and headed to the ice blue Lagoon.
Ever been on the road and realized you forgot your make up bag and started mentally kicking yourself, because that shizz is expensive to replace? I’ve been there – but there is a super cheap, if perhaps not the most sanitary, answer: kohl.
When I was visiting with the bedouin in Jordan, my friend Suleiman took me to see his (female) neighbor who decided that I needed some… beautifying.
“Women wear kohl for weddings,” Suleiman explained.
“Um, I’m not getting married anytime soon,” I said, kind of laughing, while looking around for an exit. “Really. I’m NOT.”
“It is not just for that,” Suleiman quickly added.
This is what I thought I was going to look like…
According to Suleiman, kohl around the eyes can do pretty much everything but watch your goats, including: protect your eyes from the sun, cure styes, and grow your eyelashes. I also started envisioning myself as Elizabeth Taylor/Cleopatra, so, I figured “why not?”
Suleiman’s neighbor then cooked up a batch of kohl by putting an iron pot over a burning fire, and scraping the blackened char off.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“That’s it,” Suleiman said as his neighbor came at me to apply it with a matchstick end.
“Oh well. I’ve come this far,” I thought. “I’ve had my tetanus shot and my health insurance is still active so… why not?”
The result:
Not exactly Elizabeth Taylor… but you get the idea.
I was just psyched that when she insisted on doing my eyebrows, the neighbor (who refused to be named or photographed due to her custom) didn’t give me a unibrow. I had enough of that in high school. Fun fact: Kohl doesn’t come off easily so you will have the Cleopatra look for about two days. Hot.
I later realized I looked familiar. Like I’d just been to a celebrity lookalike camp and drawn the short straw. I now present the evidence:
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? Not sure but her older sister’s in the Jordanian desert!
For more on the Suleiman and the bedouin lifestyle, check out this video in which I name a goat (who will likely be eaten soon), and gulp down desert coffee like a caffeine addicted camel:
About two months ago — right in the middle of Snowmageddon 2015 — my pal Eric Ripert called me up and said, “We are filming an episode of my show [Avec Eric] in Puerto Rico — want to come learn how to surf with me?”
I took one look out the window and about half a nanosecond later said, “HELL YEAH!”
In hindsight, I don’t know why I thought surfing was such a great idea.
1. I get seasick at the drop of a rudder.
2. I have a healthy respect for the ocean and all living things within it. [Read: I am petrified of sharks. So what if there hasn’t been a fatal attack there since 1924.]
But I’ve always liked the idea of surfing. It just looks so cool — you know? My friends do it and say it’s like meditating on the water — and I love meditating … you just sit there! I’m GREAT at sitting!
So off I went.
I met Eric at Rincon Beach — the surf capital of Puerto Rico — and our instructor, Jen, from the Rincon Surf School all duded up in my new wetsuit (which of course I bought, as I knew I was going to be SO GOOD at this I’d need this wetsuit forever).
“I cannot swim very well,” Eric said. He was already starting to sweat. “I am nervous.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. So confident. So cool. So… wrong.
A storm was blowing in — so even getting the 12 foot surfboard to the water was challenging … and then there were the 6-foot swells.
An hour later, Eric and I were clutching the sand on shore for dear life — he with a minor back injury, me with bits of rocks embedded in my shoulder and heaving my lunch out on the sand. (Remember my seasickness issue?)
I’ll admit it: I was a little late to the Puerto Rico game. Thankfully, due to Snowmageddon this year, I finally cottoned on to our cousin in the Caribbean. Now that I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid, I’m bound and determined to get everyone there — if only so that when people ask me, “Where should I go for a quick, easy, cheap getaway?” (this happens all the time) I can point them to this article.
Here are five reasons you really should go now.
1. It’s cheap and easy.
Most major airlines fly there, including JetBlue, and the price of a ticket can be up to $200 cheaper than a flight to Miami. Bonus: If you live on the East Coast, it’s quick. From JFK airport, for example, it’s only three and a half hours to San Juan, which is just slightly longer than a flight to Miami.
The hotels in San Juan are some of the chicest I’ve ever seen. Jennifer Lopez stayed at Hotel El Convento — the Chateau Marmont of the Caribbean, located in the heart of the Old City — which has weekend rates starting at less than $500 a night. If you want to bump up the price a bit, check out theCondado Vanderbilt. The recently refurbished hotel was built in 1912 by Frederick William Vanderbilt in a Spanish revival style, and has been the height of luxury ever since. Rates start at around $300 a night — expensive, but still a fraction of the cost of a luxury hotel in Miami.
3. History, history, history!
While the beach is nice, it’s even nicer that if you need a break, there’s actually something else to do. Puerto Rico’s forts and cathedrals date back to the 16th century, when Spain ruled the island.
