As it turns out, having a cute toddler with a penchant for high-fiving strangers is like toting around catnip. Apparently, Kyle saves his worst for when it’s just us, in private. In public, he was like a well-behaved movie star. He went straight to work at the airport, charming the sort of shop girls I had always assumed were beyond human emotion. Put him on a plane, I learned, and suddenly he’s the flight attendants’ favorite passenger. I’m not ashamed to say that we used him as a means to reel in extra snacks.
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Grenada was the setting, the hotel the Spice Island Beach Resort. As I swamp in my very own pool, located on my very private patio in front of my very private room, I was thinking about two things. One, some of the cliches really are true. I could overhear little American tourist spawns shouting “Marco . . . Polo!” at each other from the communal pool. I didn’t have to look at them, though. Make that double my pleasure: I also couldn’t see the European guests, who were actually in some cases as fat as the Americans, except they didn’t even have the decency to cover up. (Some things, particularly when they are barely encased in a Speedo, cannot be unseen.)
OKAY, I know what you’re thinking. Why the hell would anyone want to pay Four Seasons prices for a no-name hotel in Florida’s Panhandle? That’s like paying upwards of $400 for one of those Poconos resorts where they play the dirty version of “The Newlywed Game” and the chef’s idea of fancy is grey Chateaubriand for two.
The WaterColor Inn & Resort, named for the small planned town it fronts on the Panhandle’s charming Route 30A (between Destin and Panama City) is one of those hotels that has had a surprisingly good reputation from the start, for no particular reason. The proof is in the fact that everytime you try to book a stay, the rates are astronomical. That is, if you can even get a room.
June 8, 2008
Posted by: Jae-Ha Kim
Tags: Banzai Pipeline, Denton Morris, Hanauma Bay, Hawaii, Honolulu, humuhumunukunukuapuaa, Kona coffee, luau, Oahu, Pearl Harbor, poi, Waikiki
I like to think of myself as an adventurous traveler. I’ve hiked glaciers in New Zealand, eaten sheep entrails in the Orkney Islands and jet skied my way around Bora Bora. But when my mother suggested that we take a family trip to Hawaii last February, the little kid in me emerged and I wanted to do nothing more than just be a tourist. And for that, the best place to go was the island of Oahu.
RARELY does a month go by anymore without urgent news from Honolulu’s Waikiki Beach, now feverishly making itself over after decades of fading away. New shops! More malls! New hotels! More glitz, more glamour, better decor…oh, and don’t forget, higher prices too. Less than four miles away, another neighborhood is experiencing a resurgence of an entirely different sort. Along Waialae Avenue, there’s no fancy window dressing, but there is great food. Here, three great stops to make.
Jamaica. It’s where Stella got her groove back. It’s where Errol Flynn entertained guests during his heyday. And it’s where we went to celebrate our wedding anniversary. Technically we had been to Jamaica several times already, but it was only for layovers at Sangster International Airport in Montego Bay, before boarding on connecting flights to other Caribbean destinations such as St. Lucia, Grand Cayman and Bonaire.
When you think of famous golfing destinations, California’s Pebble Beach and Scotland’s St. Andrews immediately spring to mind, thanks to years of televised tournaments. But over the past few years, Eagle Ridge Resort & Spa–located about 150 miles west of Chicago in the heart of historic Galena, Ill.–has been building quite the reputation as a must-play golf course.
December 26, 2006
Posted by: Jae-Ha Kim
Tags: Bloody Mary's, Bora Bora, Cheyenne Brando, cruise, Dag Drollet, Denton Morris, French Polynesia, Marlon Brando, Moorea, Papeete, Paul Gauguin, Tahiti
It is with trepidation I walk back to my room after dinner. I am used to strolling back to hotels in foreign countries, but I am not accustomed to looking overboard into a pitch black ocean while doing so. But when you are on a cruise ship, that’s what you do. You lay in the sun. You eat plenty of food. You relax. And if you’re a land lover like me, you think about what it takes to keep a liner like the M/S Paul Gauguin afloat.