Travel Planning: What to Do – Page 2 – Writing With My Mouth Full

Day 3 in Dominica: Valley of Desolation and Boiling Lake

I woke up extra early today to have coffee and fresh fruits at the restaurant before an ungodly start of 7:30am to our Valley of Desolation and Boiling Lake hike. Because most of the guests signed up to hike, yoga was cancelled.

I had asked Joanne in the kitchen last night to boil two eggs for me in the morning. Joanne being Joanne asked her staff to cook three for me. I ate two with my breakfast and packed the third with the lunch we signed up for: an assortment of peanut butter and jelly, cheese and tuna-cucumber sandwiches. We each asked for three sandwiches apiece with their homemade granola bars; we had no idea the 8-hour hike was going to make us more hungry than usual. By mid-day, we were exchanging sandwiches; begging for someone else’s PB&J and trading in granola bars.

The long drive through Dominica’s curvy road made me queasy so I was glad that we immediately started our hike from the parking lot when we arrived at 9:30am. I began to appreciate Jungle Bay’s early start to our days. We always arrived at popular hikes before anyone else, which made it seem like we were the only ones in the paths except for the occasional Germans who were stereotypically super fit and seemed to always be in a race for gold.

We trekked through the rain forest during the first two hours of our hike. Its lush surroundings reminded me of my first day in Kilimanjaro. Moss and vines hung from giant Banyan trees; wide elephant ear leaves and palm fronds formed canopies that barely let the sunlight in. Most of the path was muddy and quite slippery because of the constant moisture, so a lot of time and care were taken while we walked. We reached a flat top by lunch time. The view from high up was pretty unreal. It was drizzling a tiny bit but it was a welcomed respite from the forest’s humidity.

We could see the canyon which reminded me of Kauai’s Waimea. The earth was so red, a perfect contrast against all the greenery.

We stepped on steep steps made of bamboo logs down to the Valley of Desolation where we crossed over steaming streams that smelled like sulphur, hopped on iron-dotted red rocks and held on to slimy boulders for support. Whenever we came across running water, we gloriously refilled our drinking bottles.

When we finally made it to the Boiling Lake, Iceland came to mind. In the middle of the lake, vigorously boiling water proved that the volcano was still very active. There was a small waterfall on the side that just made the place surreal. Our group took another break while we ate our remaining sandwiches–I finally got to eat my boiled egg.

I was amazed at how one country would bring to mind my past three travels. Dominica has so much to offer and I wondered how it’s still under most people’s radar.

On our hike back, I remembered the small pool of water during one of our crossings. Sam had told me the night before that we could take a quick dip if we had time, and since I was hiking ahead with the three youngest participants of our group, we undressed to reveal our swimsuits underneath and jumped in. The rest of our group joined us a few minutes later and we all took turns under the small waterfall. We passed by a hot spring next, and feeling refreshed from our first swim, we all undressed again and slithered in. The hot water from the volcano was therapeutic but I much preferred the cold shocking water because I was hot during most of the hike. Our guide, Carlos, couldn’t really stop the adults-turned-children from making the unscheduled stops. We all knew we still had hours to go and that we had to be at the parking lot before it got dark, but we were all just having too good of a time not to jump in every pool of water we came across.

My massage appointment was moved since we were an hour late returning to Jungle Bay. I took a quick shower in my room before I subjected myself to an hour-long aromatherapy massage. My legs didn’t hurt after the hike, but my body certainly still appreciated the kneading.

I began to think that Christmas and my birthday won’t be so bad after all.

Day 2 in Dominica: Victoria Falls

I fell in-love in Dominica. With my mosquito net.

I woke up my second morning with my room bathed in morning sunlight and shadows on my bed created by my mosquito net. I quickly noted to myself to find a way to install one back in my New York City apartment.

After a morning shower with a brown grasshopper, I walked to the yoga room at 7:30am and wished that it was this easy to commit to morning stretches back in my real life. In the restaurant an hour later, I had breakfast of eggs, fresh papaya, watermelon and star apple. These papayas were so soft and fleshy; the watermelon juice dripped onto my shirt; the star apple was actually sweet instead of sour. I felt so short-changed all of a sudden because fruits do not taste the same way in New York. I walked up to my room for my second shower of the day before joining the Victoria Falls tour with Ade and a family from Chicago. Mister Grasshopper had left for the day.

Carlos, the guide who will become my favorite throughout my stay, hauled ass driving to the falls. It was a quick drive and a short hike through an even more lush forest with four river crossings. I didn’t wear my hiking boots this time. I followed Ade’s lead and went barefoot most of the time to negotiate the slippery rocks. I used my hands to grab on to tree roots to hoist myself up. My camera was in a Ziploc held between my teeth. Good thing too that I wore my surf shorts instead of a heavier pair of hiking shorts–the water was waist-deep in two of the crossings.

It was beautiful in the forest. The morning light kept seeping in through the thick canopy of greens. (Reader beware: I will be talking a lot about morning light in these posts.) It was the perfect setting for someone on hallucinogenics–or so I’ve heard–or Avatar Part Two. It was so green and alive that even the moss on boulders were as soft and bright green as the best AstroTurf. Trees covered the surrounding cliff. They seemed to occupy every vertical space possible. My camera–any camera–couldn’t do the scenery any justice.

The gushing water of Victoria Falls reminded us that there is something bigger than life. The water power was so thunderous, we kept screaming at each other about how incredible it was without hearing one another. I was just in awe.

I slipped once but thankfully landed on my ass on a round rock. I held on as the wind power from the cascade tried to blow me away. I could not even swim past the rocks’ edges. The water was cool and refreshing and provided respite from the humidity. I tried very hard to keep my bathing suit on while traipsing.

On our way back to our truck, Carlos cut and skinned a stalk of sugar cane and we passed the pieces around to suck off its sweet juice. I picked and smelled several leaves of fresh lemongrass, wild thyme and rosemary. I was thinking of roasted pork tenderloin and lamb chops, but happily settled for a lunch of fish curry roti back at Jungle Bay Resort with a couple of their homemade ginger-lime iced teas poolside. I read my book in between hot naps and cool swims. I had the pool and the afternoon to myself, but it felt like I had the whole world.

I showered back in my room, chilled on the hammock with my book until it was time to join Nancy, Jai and Ade for a power walk up Paix Bouche hill. Nancy has been doing the walk everyday since she moved to Dominica three years ago and the entire staff shook their heads at me when they found out Nancy had convinced me to join her. (I came to tease her for being the crazy white lady who walks everywhere after also hearing the story that she once walked to the town of Rosseau which took her four hours.) No one could tell me how long of a walk it was, but it was no joke: the hill went up a 35-degree angle. The roti in my stomach felt like extra weight I had to carry; my achilles were throbbing. The walk was good for my calves even though they cried for help during my Swedish massage afterward. I ended up walking the hill with Nancy nine more times during my stay at Jungle Bay and I appreciated that I my afternoons were spent getting to know her during those walks.

For my second dinner with Sam’s family, I had the traditional Dominican platter of shredded cod and dried herring with fried plantains. It was one of the best appetizers I’ve ever had–a combination of sweet and salty all on one plate. (I would end up ordering this every time it showed up on the menu.) I barely had room for the grilled kingfish and vegetable rice after the bowl of hot seafood chowder. I was impressed at what Joanne and her kitchen staff were cooking up in the kitchen. For the rest of the night, I forgot about tenderloins and lamb chops.

I will end up forgetting a lot of regular life during this Dominican trip.

Day 1 in Dominica: Jungle Bay Spa and Resort

It’s okay, Keith the driver said. The rain will stop after we pass the forest.

And it did.

One thing I learned during my stay in Dominica was that the weather was never what it seemed. I had a view of the Atlantic Ocean from my cottage and more than a few times I watched the rain approach like a marching band, only to abruptly stop as soon as the deluge started.

Keith met and picked me up from the tiny airport of Melville. I watched my backpack get transferred from our small plane to the conveyor belt next to boxes of clucking yellow chicks. There was a faint warm breeze and a super bright moon in the sky before the weather turned into rain as we drove along the rain forest. Past the greenery, it was again dry and I sat back to watch Keith negotiate Dominica’s unlit curvy roads.

After two Times magazines, an old Sunday paper, several CD compilations from my iPhone, an entire This American Life episode and a couple hours’ worth of uncomfortable naps on airport plastic chairs, I finally made it to Jungle Bay Resort and Spa in the tiny island of Dominica. What should have been a short trip from New York to the Caribbean added up to 20 hours of travel time after including waking up at an ungodly hour to get to Newark airport, waiting for five boring hours for my connecting flight in Saint Martin and driving another two hours to the cottages. I gave myself credit for packing yogurt and leftover roast pork tenderloin and Brussels sprouts from home because rum and fast food pizza from the SXM airport wouldn’t have sustained me.

When friends found out I was going away for my birthday and the holidays, they all thought I was going to the Dominican Republic. I had to correct them and tell them that Dominica, pronounced like the name Dominic plus the A, is between the islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique. Surprisingly, not a lot of people have heard of the country even though I ended up meeting and hanging out with all the guests from the New York area.

The dark roads reminded me of Tanzania where I saw people on the side of the road only when illuminated by our headlights. The driving reminded me of how Filipino drivers would halt to a stop when they see another car coming head-on; a honk of acknowledgement always occurred. Keith had shown me the restaurant menu as I drank my cold passionfruit welcome drink in the car. I ordered my first dinner ahead of time before the kitchen closed for the night. After two hours of driving, I was finally shown my cottage where I ate my first meal of callalloo soup, a watercress and cucumber salad and pan-seared tuna. I freshened up using the outdoor-style shower attached to my room and drifted off to sleep with the sound of the ocean crashing against Stony Beach right below me. Somewhere out there was a historic lunar eclipse, but alas, rain started pouring again as soon as I was comfortable enough on the king-sized bed covered by a mosquito net canopy.

My internal clock woke me up a few minutes ahead of the front desk’s wake-up call. I got ready for yoga and met Nancy in the open yoga room with five other early risers. Nancy was the one who made arrangements for my stay at Jungle Bay. She made me feel comfortable booking a solo trip via e-mail and assured me that I will have all the alone time I needed without being lonely. (She being from Switzerland who ended up staying to work at Jungle Bay.) I later learned that Dominica is one of the safest places in the Caribbean for female solo travelers.

Yoga, thankfully, was for beginners. It had been a while since I’ve done yoga so it was great not to be struggling; I suppose a few classes of Pilates at my gym have helped me too. After a quiet start to my morning, I climbed back 200 steps to my room, showered again and laced up my hiking boots. After a quick breakfast at the resort’s Pavillion Restaurant, I joined two other families and Sam Raphael, the owner, plus his two children, Ade and Jai–both New York based as well–on a hike through Perdu Temps with another staff member named Brother. (Occasionally, I asked him What’s up, bro? for fun.)

It was a beautiful day for a short hike. The trail retraces the steps of Dominica’s run-away slaves, through the forest and up the mountains to Pomme’s “paradise”. Pomme is a local guy who lives a couple of hours up the mountain and lives with his family off his surroundings. Everything they eat comes from the plants and the trees around the property. The water comes from a stream a few yards away. An outhouse is behind the trees, but all the waste goes back to the earth. If there’s such a thing as true organic living, Pomme is doing it.

We were mostly protected from direct sunlight by a canopy of trees. We had to cross three streams and I had to take my boots off at one of them because the water went as high as my thighs. Rain is generous in these parts and so moss-covered rocks made downhill trekking very tricky. Brother stopped and picked fresh oranges and grapefruits from trees. He carved a cinnamon tree bark to show us where the spice comes from. He picked and gave me a fresh nutmeg. We saw a lot of dashin, plants that look like taro and one of the staples of the Dominican diet. Banana and mango trees were everywhere, as well as avocado and mangosteen. I was also surprised to see tall bamboo trees swaying with the wind as I’ve never seen them before anywhere else in Central America or the Caribbean. Whenever we walked an open valley, I would look up and see the green-covered mountains ahead of me. The lushness reminded me so much of Kauai in Hawaii, and at times, I thought of the movie Avatar.

Pomme’s wife and daughter cooked up mashed pumpkin and bake (like johnnycakes, but whole wheat) and they roasted breadnuts–nuts that look like smaller chestnuts–on an open fire. While the rest of our group joined Pomme on a short tour of his gardens, I walked down the stream with Ade to refill my water bottle with fresh spring water. Dominica is the thirtieth country I’ve visited in the last ten years and only in Patagonia was water so fresh that you could drink off the streams and rivers. I loved that I didn’t have to worry about running out of water during our hikes. This country is truly blessed by Mother Nature.

We were back at Jungle Bay a little before 3pm. I showered and changed for the night. This time, I knew well enough to pack what I needed for the rest of the night to avoid the walk back up to my room until I had to go to sleep. I sat by the pool where I ended up napping even with the youngest guests squealing in the water. All that sun did get to me somehow. When I woke up, I walked down to the ocean cabana to watch the water crash against the rocks. I only left when small palm fruits started to fall from the trees above my hammock because of the incoming strong wind.

It started to get dark at 6pm. I walked to the spa to claim my first massage of seven for the duration of my stay. The spa’s windows all opened up to the ocean so each treatment didn’t need background music. The warm breeze and the sound of the waves were enough to relax your entire body. The ladies who worked there are all properly trained. I noticed that every time they needed to add more massage oil to my body, one of their hands remained lightly on my back to let me know that they were still there. I haven’t received a proper massage since my Kilimanjaro hike six months ago, so I felt like Jell-O after the hour was over.

I managed to walk to the restaurant for dinner where I joined Sam’s family for dinner. I was famished and ate cod fritters, fish soup, and tuna–the restaurant only offered seafood and chicken in terms of meat and there were plenty of vegetarian options for the more healthier guests–plus freshly-made coconut and guava sorbets. (Believe it or not, I opted out of alcohol for the rest of the week until it was time to celebrate my birthday.) For the duration of my stay, Sam made me feel like I was part of his family: it was just expected that I sit with them to eat and stay after dinner to drink and talk. By the third day, it was standard for me to greet Joanne, the kitchen manager, with a hug and a squeeze. As the week progressed and new guests arrived, our table grew from four to six, and then to eight. By the time I had to fly back to New York City, all the tour guides and drivers had already given me hugs with the lifts.

What was this place where I was alone but not lonely? It was Dominica, and my vacation had just begun.

Day 1 in Portugal: Overnight in Sintra: Casa Miradouro

Good thing Daddy knows how to drive stick!, the Dr. beamed proudly as we took another sharp turn on Sintra’s curvy roads. It took us at least an hour to find Casa Miradouro from Lisbon. We drove through the narrow stone streets of Sintra with its numerous forts, monasteries and castles and we kept getting lost because of the tight turns we always had to take. We squeezed past tour buses as they were finishing up for the day, halted to quick stops to read the rua signs and re-oriented ourselves several times to find our room for the night.

The Dr. is not big on asking strangers for driving directions–no surprise, he is a guy after all–so I had to go to the tourist office alone to ask Onde Rua Sotto Mayor? The guy at the desk just assumed I spoke Portuguese and proceeded to tell me how to get to where we needed to be in his sh-sh-sh language. All I understood was the word for left, izquierda, because it was similar to Spanish so we went back on the road and turned left on the road across from the office. We will later learn that most of the locals choose to speak French rather than Spanish which is a curious thing to us because Spain is right next door. Almost everyone we met would switch to Parlez-vous FranÃ§ais? whenever we started talking to them in English or Spanish. Thankfully, the Dr.’s French lessons in high school paid off again. (The first was in Cuba, and then in Tunisia.)

Getting lost was worth it when we finally found Casa Miradouro because it was a haven from the bustle of the town center. Charlotte, the proprietress of Casa Miradouro welcomed us to her home as it started to rain. It had been cloudy when we touched down Lisbon with some sunshine peaking through the clouds and I was a bit chilly from my lack of sleep on the plane and felt a cold coming in, but suddenly felt relaxed as soon as we entered the house. The first floor had several salons for entertaining, each one set up with a different style of furniture. Design books were on the modern coffee tables. Cathedral ceilings with ornate details and ceiling to floor curtains gave the rooms an airy feel.

In our room, double doors opened towards the garden with a Juliet balcony that overlooked the town. Our queen-sized bed was covered in plain white sheets and two separate twin down comforters. (How come I never thought of that? No more blanket-stealing during cold nights in bed!) Blue and white tiles in the style of azulejos, an ubiquitous Portuguese touch, lined the bathroom walls. Hot water was aplenty!

After cleaning up, we felt settled enough to take an afternoon walk in the town and check out our surroundings. We walked up and down small hills, through narrow alleys and past bakeries and souvenir shops. We stopped by Lojo do Vinho for a couple of glasses of wine before we walked to the unfortunately named GSpot for dinner. Charlotte had recommended two different types of restaurants and we opted for the more experimental one since we knew we would have the rest of the week to eat local fare.

After a bottle of wine, foie gras, clams with squid-inked orzo and a mediocre sirloin steak, we set out into the drizzly night and walked back to Casa Miradouro. It felt like we had Sintra to ourselves; this fantasy land of castles looming above us. I could only think of Prague where I felt the same way at night but this was less gritty and more peaceful.

Charlotte was up; we assumed she was waiting for us to get in because she turned off all the hallway lights as soon as we bid her good night. We had a nightcap of Port at the bar in one of the rooms and talked for a bit before heading to our bedroom. A few hours later, I woke up with a crushing headache. Sintra’s lights from our balcony made me pause in the dark when I got up to go to the bathroom. Headache be damned, I was falling in love with Sintra’s nighttime lights and couldn’t wait for the next morning when we would begin to see the rest of the country.

The next morning, we enjoyed a very civilized breakfast in the basement. The Dr. and I have never been the best bed and breakfast guests because we’ve never really had good free breakfasts wherever we’ve stayed. The coffee is always weak, the bread cold and the butter like they serve it on airplanes. To our surprise, Charlotte prepared a spread of salmon, prosciutto, salami and ham with an assortment of pastries and fresh fruits. French-pressed coffee and freshly-squeezed orange juice completed our morning. We checked out, reloaded our stuff in the hatchback and drove to São Pedro to visit the Sunday flea market before we started our long drive up north.

There was an assortment of colors at the Feira Grande de São Pedro. A cart selling only leitao, roasted pig, was in the middle of the square amidst a barrage of clothing, housewares, fig and olive plants, live finchess and other types of food. I watched a group of older ladies pull a tray of freshly-baked bread from a stone oven and bought two pieces only to discover sausage slices stuffed inside. We just ate, but happily ate again. Besides, lunch was still two hours away.

Foraging with Wildman Steve

After reading about Bon Appétit, a sustainable-minded food catering company based in–of course–California, and its efforts to get even more local by switching the roles of some of their managers and chefs to “foragers”, I immediately thought, Well, they should call Wildman Steve.

I don’t remember how I first heard about Wildman Steve, but I’ve since kept him in the back of my head for when my schedule allowed me to join one of his foraging tours in Central Park. One super humid summer day, me and about fifteen others met in the upper west side of the park to forage for berries and cherries, epazotes and sasafras, and probably the last garlic bulb of spring and the first burdock of fall. The bonus was learning how to spot poison ivy; how amazing it was to see so many all over the park where clueless pedestrians and their pets run around!

Unfortunately, the rest of the summer didn’t allow for much cooking in the kitchen so I wasn’t able to use the produce I took home except for the berries that went into a pint of homemade ice cream, but I did gnaw on all of the stuff the Wildman showed us along the way. I completely trusted that he knew what he was doing and picking. I’m glad to report that there were no weird stomach pains after.

Here’s a list of plants we came across in and around 103rd Street and Central Park West:

1. European Cut-leaf Blackberries – I was so surprised to see a fruit tree in the park! Now that I know where they are, I’ll just pick these in season.

2. Native Black Cherries – I took home a lot of these using the plastic take-out containers we were advised to bring. A subtle ice cream was made at home afterward.

3. Epazote – You can dry and save these for use in a Mexican dish

4. Lamb’s Quarters – You can use them in quiche or cook them like you would spinach

5. Poor Man’s Pepper – They tasted like mustard seeds and Wildman said they would be great in miso soup

6. Wood Sorrel – You’ve seen these growing like weeds and you thought that you could find a four-leaf clover among them. You won’t.

7. Mayapple – Wildman crossed a fence and picked these small plums that taste like passionfruits

8. Common Plantain – These are also everywhere in the park. I’ve always thought they were just some kind of weed, but you can mash the leaves and rub them all over yourself to keep the mosquitoes off. The small seeds had a hint of peanut taste.

9. Garlic Mustard – The plant that keeps on giving: you can use the leaves for a garlic pesto, the buds and the sprouts like chives, the roots like horseradish, the seeds like mustard seeds!

10. Jetberries – I see these all the time, too, and now I know that if a berry bush has some sharp and ragged-edged leaves, they are poisonous!

11. Asiatic Dayflower – They look like tiny string beans

12. Field Garlic – I was very happy to see garlic even though we only found one whole bulb because it’s way past spring. They’re definitely stronger than your grocery store garlic bulbs.

13. Poison Ivy – We spotted a few plants around the park which took me by surprise because dog owners may be walking their pets along the paths not knowing they’re sniffing them! Now I know how to tell them apart: they have three leaves per stalk, but the smaller two connect directly to the twig.

14. Sasafras – Commonly known as the plant that makes root beer, Wildman Steve showed us the leaves in three different shapes.

15. Fawn Mushroom – Fortunately, we found one mushroom by some tree. Unfortunately, a squirrel got to it before we did. Fawn mushrooms grow on wood, have blush-pink gills and have a space in between their gills and stem. If you want to see more mushrooms, sign up for the tour after a whole lot of rain.

16. Jewelweed – Wildman Steve sprinkled some water onto their leaves and the droplets repelled and looked like jewels, hence the name. They are known to help your poison ivy rash, so grab some of these after you step on the ivy plants during the tour.

17. Sweet Pepper Bush – You can rub and juice the hell out of them to make your own soap

18. Lemon Verbana relative – We couldn’t identify the plant that grew along the running water near the Lasker Pool. It had a somewhat citrus smell, but it wasn’t mint because it wasn’t minty enough, nor was it lemon verbana because it didn’t have pointy leaves. Can you help?

19. Burdock – I first had burdock at The Tasting Room. I miss that place. They were cooking farm-to-table style years before every blogger started using that term.

Although you won’t be on your hands or knees during the foraging trip, I highly recommend bringing a knife. I have a sample of the Ikon Folding Gentleman’s knife from the generous people at Wüsthof and I love it. It’s small enough to pack, yet very hefty and reliable when you’re cutting and slicing tougher items like burdock. Folding it back in takes a little getting used to–something my gentleman had to teach me to avoid accidentally cutting myself–but as soon as I got the hang of it, it was easy to reveal the 5-inch knife and fold back into the smooth Blackwood ebony handle.