Who says you can’t go home again? I just did and am here to testify that though it was a bit strange, it was more than wonderful to return to the place I lived in 41 years ago. Planning my recent trip back east where I would be staying with family and two of my oldest and dearest girlfriends, I decided to start off my trip by staying in a hotel for a few nights. After checking the rates in our two favorite New York hotels, The Regency and The Surrey and catching my breath I decided to look at a few other options.
My husband and I have become huge fans of VRBO and through it we’ve rented great vacation houses in Hawaii, London and San Francisco to name a few. The house in Kauai we rented several summers ago was spectacular. Seriously we lucked out big time. But getting back to NYC, I combed the VRBO listings and didn’t find anyplace I felt like staying in. Those that looked good were either too big or in neighborhoods I didn’t know, or just looked like what it was: someone else’s nice apt but not mine! Then I remembered that a friend had once mentioned that she’d stayed in a lovely Bed and Breakfast in NYC. What the heck, with nothing to lose, and possibly hundreds to save, I googled B and B’s in Manhattan. Quell Surprise! Welcome to a whole new way to go! I had plenty of options to scroll through and scroll I did!
With renewed enthusiasm, scrolling, smiling, practically drooling, something caught my eye. Wait! I know that room! I know those windows! Backing up for a closer inspection, my enthusiasm turned into awe. I stopped and enlarged the picture of the room. That was my apartment! Decades ago, four to be exact! I read the name of The B and B, the 1871 House. The name confused me, but knowing those windows, I clicked onto the 1871 website.
A trip to Santa Fe is at once exhilarating and embarrassing. You say to yourself, “how can I be so corny and fall in love with the food, the shopping, the art, and the
physical beauty all over again?”. And yet, you do, embracing it all as
you roll your eyes at your own enthusiasm. The food, of course, is of
superior class with an emphasis on how we want to eat today: local and
seasonal. And each Santa Fe friend has their own passionate reason why
their favorite restaurant has the best green chili. But there is more
to the palette of Santa Fe food than traditional Northern New Mexico
cuisine, as good as that is. Here are a half dozen of my personal
favorites. One of the great things about them all is their unique
points of view on feeding you. Unique, like Santa Fe itself.
Thirty miles from San Francisco, 
Every culture has fried dough--German Berliners, Italian zeppole, French beignets, and Indian balushahi--but none can top the gut-busting pleasure of the American donut. It's the latest iconic food to undergo a renaissance; here are our picks for the best classic and newfangled donut purveyors across the country. 
Dogs howling at the moon. I roll over and from bed I look up to eighteen thousand feet of snow-covered peaks, shimmering in the moonlight. Shit, I gotta catch a plane! I throw on my clothes and race down the stairs, grab my last pair of underwear off the clothes line, stuff them in my pocket, throw my bag on my head, stumble through the turnip patch and onto the trail. I drink in the vista one last time. Fields of blooming mustard greens tint the valley a hazy yellow, tall poplar trees line the paths, and every little house sports a well tended vegetable garden.
