Travel

Relaxing by the pool with a mojito in one hand and a good book in the other, I’m loving the quiet scene at the recently opened Metropolitan by COMO in Miami Beach, a spectacular, 74-room, renovated Art Deco hotel.

This is COMO’s first U.S. location, boasting exquisite contemporary interiors by well-known Italian designer, Paola Navone, with a top-notch spa and incredible food. I barely unpack because Miami is only a warm up for my next stop, a short flight away, to Parrot Cay in Turks and Caicos.

I know my vacation is going to be perfect when after hours of paddle boarding on Tiffany blue waters, I jog across the flawless sand to my chaise lounge and find a coconut pierced with a straw, ready for drinking.

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Each morning, just before the pink sun rises, I happily wake up, pull on my neon yellow jogging shorts, grab a banana and head down to the beach in anticipation of my 30-minute run.

I park my flip-flops on the immaculately kept condominium walkway, where water hoses dangle waiting to spritz down my soon-to-be very sandy feet.

Not expecting to see a soul, I stumble by early birds and blue herons, squeak open my sleepy eyes in time to witness the tangerine skies and feel the crystal green waters of the Gulf of Mexico wash over my toes.

The Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, recently named one of the best Gulf Coast Beaches by The Travel Channel, is 32 miles of meandering white sand that feels and looks more like fine sugar crystals.

It doesn’t take long to fall in love with Alabama’s sweet tea and southern hospitality where strangers become fast friends connecting over football and a bowl of fried crab claws, and locals giggle every September about the arrival of the lovebugs (a.k.a Plecia Nearctica) and their unusual acrobatic in-flight mating rituals.

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3 goats in Door County

Waiting to board a flight to Green Bay Wisconsin is like a warm-up exercise for a Packers game. Passengers decked out in the famous green and white become fast friends with strangers chatting about trades, and the state of Aaron Rodger’s shoulder, while a young Delta Airlines agent wearing blue rimmed glasses throws out trivia questions causing a contagion of giggles at the gate.

The folks in Green Bay are completely crazy for their football team and it shows. Whenever it snows, they flock to Lambeau armed with shovels ready to clear the field. So it’s no surprise that this small town of only 100,000 would have a stadium big enough to fit 80,000 of them.  These exuberant cheeseheads also happen to own their beloved league.

But when you’re done with the football and sampling squeaky cheese curds, only a short drive away is Door County Peninsula, a slice of land surrounded by Lake Michigan in Wisconsin’s northeast corner, inhabited by a sprinkling of unique waterfront villages and a thriving eclectic culinary scene that should not be missed.

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“I don’t have malaria” is the subject line of an email sent to me a few days ago from my 21 year-old daughter and social entrepreneur, who has spent the summer months in Kenya establishing a start-up company in a small town called Nyahururu. “Are you sure?” I cross-examine her. “ I’m good mom, don’t worry,” she giggles while probably rolling her eyes to her friends heard chatting in the background.

It’s only 8 am, but I pry open some champagne and drink a glass or two, relieved that she’s about to leave Kenya, and thrilled that she will be joining her siblings in Amsterdam for a much needed visit before they all head off on their own, engaging in rewarding but separate lives.

Later that night I slip in more motherly advice, this time targeting my eldest child. “Don’t eat too many hash brownies,” I warn my 23-year-old daughter, who’s chatting with me from La Guardia airport in New York, where she lives and works. “People have been known to have some horrible reactions.” She breaks out in a roar and then softly says, “Gotto go board the plane…love you!”

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