“Do you want to come to New York?” my friend writes through WhatsApp. “I’ve got tons of miles, come.”
I sit and ponder for a moment. NYC. It’s not even two full days, and yet two cross-country flights. The age-old debate ensues in my head briefly: is it worth that half-day of travel for less than 48 hours on the ground? Case in point: I won’t fly to Thailand from the US for anything less than a three-week stay because those trips wreak havoc.
And yet …
Water is cascading down from the ceramic-tiled roof of my apartment. Under the gray summer sky, even the terracotta orange of the tiles are muted. And the rain, with its plump droplets and thunking onto the sand-colored stones below my window, has a whirr about it. A gentle humming that hums along with my heart. Which has been racing a lot lately. Racing overtime.
Yesterday marked six years since I arrived in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Six years since that first definition, that first identity of myself (aside from travel blogger and publicist) which defined me.
Las Vegas is a lot of things. It’s a desert town rooted in the tourism industry. It’s a mecca for foodies; a hotbed of night clubs; a gamblers go-to. But, it’s also a place to use as a launchpad for checking out what’s outside of the mega resorts, hip Downtown and ‘burbs, so Expedia.com asked me to share my insiders tips.
In fact, Las Vegas boasts some incredible spots that aren’t far from vacationers’ hotels, but an entire world apart from what people know and expect of time spent in Sin City. To get you ready for your unique Las Vegas vacation, check out the many hotel options at Expedia.com.
Where to head on a free day in Las Vegas?
December 15, 2015.
I remind myself regularly of this date. When I’m up at night, my brain whirrs as I count the days, weeks, months and now years since I turned my back on expat life.
It seems like no time has passed at all, and yet all the time in the world has passed.
December 15, 2015.
It hovers over me at times, gently bringing back memories.
Every year, I head somewhere for my birthday. Or at least try to. It all started in 2009 when I was in Atlanta and working in PR. I took the first trip of my adult life — a two week excursion to Croatia — seven years after my first foray into solo travel, which netted me about one month of backpacking with a far-too-heavy backpack around Europe.
If you’ve been reading this site since its infancy, then you know Croatia was the catalyst for all things d travels ’round.
I digress.
Birthday.
The humid air hits me on the jetway, causing a smile to remain plastered to my face from immigration to crossing the street outside of the airport to get a taxi (hint: it’s cheaper if you grab a cab off airport property).
I hop in the front seat of my taxi and produce the address to my hotel, a boutique property a two-minute walk to the beach.
“Voy aqui,” I tell my driver as I hop in.
“Si,” he responds, and we are off.
The surf pounds the well-packed sand, littered with seaweed. I sit, toes buried deep where the water meets the shore. Behind me, local vendors run a sales rotation at Puerto Vallarta’s Sea Monkey, a beach bar with a handful of tables and umbrellas nestled on the coastline.
They sell everything: Drawings. Jewelry. Marionettes. Clothing. Massages.
As each one passes, my friend, Paula and I, tucked into 17 peso margaritas that could use a little more tequila and a little less sweet, catch up on life and quickly report to each seller, “no, gracias.”
