little black journal

Aloha!  Shane and I landed back in Seattle last night after a few days in Kauai, and oh em geeeeeee…  It was nothing short of paradise.  I had hoped to “live blog” while we were there, but I was too drunk with sunshine and Hawaiian shave ice at the end of each day to even consider opening the laptop.  So, a flashback:

We arrived in Kauai Thursday afternoon, and from the moment we stepped into the lobby of our hotel, with its tropical gardens and glistening ocean view, I knew we were in for something special.

We were in our bathing suits and down at the pool within minutes of checking into our room – we would log some serious hours here over the next few days.  I loved the long,meandering swimming pool, with it’s mini waterfalls and multiple seating niches.

Shane favored the huge man-made saltwater “lagoon”, with it’s sandy bottom and shallow spots, perfect for lazily bobbing around.

The small beach just beyond the lagoon was beautiful as well, but not so ideal for a couple of bobbers like ourselves – those waves were rough, and the ocean floor was fairly rocky.  Shane has the bruised shin to prove it!

After successfully rinsing ourselves of any travel fatigue, we got dressed and drove over to Keiko’s Paradise for a dinner of fresh fish and (virgin) mango margaritas. We dined outside, reveling in the feeling of being in tank tops at 9 pm.  We were coming off a fairly cold week in Seattle, and I was determined to soak up every last bit of island warmth.  Everything else was just icing on the cake.

Our first big adventure came early Friday, when we boarded a helicopter for a tour of the island.  We had opted for the “doors-off” package, so the sides of the helicopter were totally open to the outside – gotta have a lot of faith in that seat belt to hold you in place!  My stomach fluttered with butterflies when we first took off, but any nervousness quickly faded away as the beauty of Kauai rolled out below us.  There are not words to describe how incredible this hour was.  Shoot – photos don’t even do it justice.  Easily one of the most memorable travel moments of my life…

The flight over the Waimea Canyon took my breath away:

And just as I started to catch that breath, we took a turn toward the Na Pali Coast, and I was again left gasping:

From there, we swooped along the North Shore, checking out its blue waters and sandy beaches:

And then we headed inland again, for more of those verdant, green-carpeted mountains.  I couldn’t get over how lush it all was, every surface covered in dense layers of dark green and light green and bright, glowing chartreuse.  I suppose I can’t begrudge those rain clouds for blocking my shots – they’ve made for some pretty rich landscapes:

Eventually it was time to make our way back to Lihue.  Too soon, too soon!  I could have floated up in that sky all day.

Post-flight, giddy with adrenaline, we drove over to the nearby K-Mart for breakfast.  Yup, read that right – there’s a woman with a little booth out front, where she makes and serves fresh malasadas.  These fluffy, fried, sugared dough balls were so, so good. So bad, but still, sooooo good.  We scarfed down our breakfast and then cruised back to the hotel for another afternoon at the pool, again bouncing from pool to lagoon to lounge chair, repeating the rotation when the sun got too hot.  Pretty grand.

I was determined to find the best shave ice on the island during our stay, so we headed over to Waimea that evening to visit Jo Jo’s.  And dang, it puts sno-cones to shame.  Fluffy ice, fruity-but-not-too-sweet syrup, and a scoop of macadamia nut ice at the bottom for an extra treat.  Shane gave me a Hawaiian ice machine for Mother’s Day, and now I have something to aspire to!

Refreshed by our icy snack, we drove up Waimea Canyon Road to check out the views.  We had upgraded our economy rental car for the first time ever and splurged on a Mustang convertible, and let me tell you, there are few things more fun than cruising through the Hawaiian mountains with the wind in your hair and the guy you love at your side while Macklemore and Jack Johnson and Taylor Swift pipe through the stereo (we have very eclectic taste).

We took the windy road to the very end and arrived at Pu’u o Kila lookout, taking in the stunning view of the Na Pali Coast and the great Pacific. It was so quiet up there – just us, a few stray chickens (they’re all over the island), and the Big Guy that put this all in place.  Praise be to God.

The sun was setting as we made our way back down the mountain, and we pulled over so I could snap a quick pic of the gorgeous sky – thus began our 4-night stint of sunset-chasing (more on that later).

We ended the day with a simple cafe meal and fell into bed sleepy and slightly sunburned.  But also so, so excited to see what else Kauai had in store for us.

We arrived back in Seattle last night – Texas is once again a faraway land, and on Monday we’ll return to work and the associated “real world”. But it was a pretty grand vacation, up until the very end…

We kicked off Thursday with a walk along the riverfront – the Colorado River ran right past our hotel and was bordered by a beautiful walking path that ran for miles in either direction.  We didn’t see quite as much sun as we’d hoped in Austin, but those warm, humid mornings were still wonderfully tropical.  If I can be in a tank top at 10 am, I’m a happy camper.

Post-walk, we grabbed coffee and breakfast tacos at Jo’s – one of the places we’d vowed to return to after our first stroll down South Congress. Their patio is the perfect place to camp out with a book and a latte, and we sat there for awhile, alternately reading and people-watching (this place is hipster central). It’s also the coffee shop with the best graffiti.

We spent the early part of the afternoon at the downtown AMoA Arthouse, taking in their latest contemporary art exhibits. I majorly dug the architecture-inspired drawings by Seher Shah. From there, we picked up a picnic lunch at the market and drove over to the sister Arthouse at Laguna Gloria. The art collection at this site was small, but the grounds were beautiful. Our old friend Steve, Shane’s best man at our wedding, lives in Dallas and made the drive out to Austin to catch up with us over salami and cheese.

We headed back to our hotel and I got some rest while Shane and Steve chilled out on our patio. It was so good to see the easy way they fell into conversation with one another, as if hardly any time had passed in the four years since they last saw each other.

The three of us grabbed dinner that evening at Black Star Brewery. We sat at our table well after we’d finished eating and talked about theology, about dreams for the future, about finding our callings, and then it was time to say good-bye to Steve as he hit the long dusty trail back to Dallas.

I assumed we were calling it a night after that, but Shane had other plans up his sleeve.  I raised my eyebrows when we missed the turn to our hotel, and he grinned that mischievous cocktails-on-the-brain grin of his.  We parked on 4th Street and headed toward Peche, known (in Shane’s circles, at least) for their impressive absinthe selection.  But first, we paused for a moment on the sidewalk to listen to this band’s rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama”.  Gotta love Austin.

Shane’s absinthe pour was all he’d hoped it would be, and I was quite taken with my lime ricotta tart and cherry whipped cream.  Double-score.

We started Friday morning with another long walk along the river (still working off that brisket!), and then brunched Bouldin Creek Cafe.  The food was excellent, the hippie vibe was lots of fun, and I reveled in what I feared may be out last outdoor dining experience for awhile.

We had an evening flight and a couple of hours to kill until then, so we drove up to Mount Bonnell to check out the view of the city.  That morning mist had yet to burn off, so things weren’t super-clear, but the stairclimb definitely did me good.

Temperatures were in the 80’s by this point and we were feeling ready for some lounging, so we drove over to Barton Springs Pool to grab a seat on the lawn.  This pool, an offshoot of the river, is incredible – it’s absolutely huge and has this cool mixed character of man-made and natural.  I wasn’t equipped for a swim, but it felt good to kick our shoes off and lay in the grass for an hour.

A quick stop at the Ice Cream Social truck for waffle cones, one more iced coffee at Jo’s, and then it was time to say so long to Austin.  We were a couple pounds heavier, a bit more tan, and a lot more relaxed than when we’d first arrived – the city had been good us.

Steve asked Shane and I on Thursday night what it was that we hoped wouldn’t change with the arrival of the baby, and this question has been rattling around in my head ever since.  There were so many moments in this trip that were decidedly kid-less (long mornings in bed, late night cocktails, the absence of any sort of set schedule), and as hard as it may be to see that sort of freedom go, I’m ok with it.  But the laughs?  The joy in sharing a new experience?  Our ability to have silly, unbridled fun together, to genuinely enjoy just laying on the grass with one another?  That’s the good stuff, the stuff that’s here to stay.

We hit Texas hard on Wednesday, as we ventured out of Austin for a day full of eating and sight-seeing. First up: real Texas barbecue in nearby Lockhart. We arrived at Kreuz Market around noon and promptly ordered ourselves a pound of the beef brisket, rumored to be the best in the entire state. The man behind the counter shaved four super-thick slices off a warm hunk of just-done beef, slapped it down on a thick sheet of butcher paper with a full stack of Saltine crackers, and directed us to the adjacent dining hall to dig in. We sat down at our table and scratched our heads for a moment over how to go about eating this. Was there barbecue sauce? Forks? No and no. Shane did manage to rummage up a plastic knife, I fetched a lemonade at the drinks counter, and, taking our cue from the cowboy seated next to us, we just had at it. I suppose the thinking is that meat prepared this perfectly doesn’t need sauce or proper utensils, which is a point that’s hard to debate. Tender, moist, perfectly charred around the edges – this was the real deal.

But Shane hadn’t come all this way to let some New York Times article tell him what was the best brisket in Texas – he needed to decide for himself. So we took a few minutes to let round one settle, then made our way over to Black’s Barbecue to see what the alleged runner-up had to offer. We restrained ourselves (a little) at this place, and ordered just one slice of beef, a couple of ribs, and a side of mashed potatoes. I favored this place, where the meat was a little smokier, but Shane favored Kreuz, so I suppose the jury’s still out.

My baby bump was bulging extra big by the time we waddled out of Black’s. Shane read somewhere that babies start to have taste buds at this stage, and that you can actually get them used to the taste of certain foods depending on what you eat while they’re in utero. I guess vegetarianism is out of the question for little Schnell?

From Lockhart, we made the hour-long drive over to San Antonio to check a few things off our to-see list. We started at the Alamo, which admittedly, we found a little underwhelming. The history of the site was interesting, and we learned a few things about the Texas revolution, but after 30 minutes there, we were ready to move on. To be fair, I think we were both in such a deep beef-induced stupor that I’m not sure anything would have captivated us at that point…

We had heard good things about the San Antonio Riverwalk, and that sounded like the perfect way to burn some calories, so we parked our car in the city center and took the nearest staircase down to the waterfront. It was beautiful down there – charming cobblestone bridges, lush tropical plantings, umbrella-covered tables. We walked the loop, loving the sense of “urban oasis” that came with the sound of birds calling overhead.

We happened to be in San Antonio during “fiesta days”, so we followed the sound of live music back up to street level and wandered through the giant street fair taking place adjacent to the central Mercado. A band doing Sublime covers on one stage, a couple of guys crooning smooth Spanish ballads on another, food stands peddling street corn and funnel cakes and fresh fruit – “festive” hardly begins to describe it. I bought a cup of watermelon agua fresca and we took it all in, overwhelmed by the colors and smells and sounds.

We had hoped to have dinner in the city, but the thought of food was still entirely unappealing at 6 pm, so we headed back to Austin, hoping we’d regain our appetites during the drive back. By 8:30, we felt like we were ready for a snack, so we made our way to Papi Tino’s for a light dinner. The perfect Texas tacos continue to elude Shane, but his margarita was top-notch, and the green sauce on my enchiladas was the best I’ve ever had. Determined to live it up and capitalize on Austin’s vibrant night life, we headed over to Donn’s Depot after dinner to check out their house band, which we’d heard packs out the dance floor every night. We were both surprised and amused to walk into the bar and find ourselves the youngest ones there by nearly 40 years. But it’s true – the house band was hoppin’, and the dance floor was packed, so we ordered drinks and snagged a seat to watch those ol’ cowboys and their poofy-haired ladies strut their stuff.

Cheers to a day full of so many memorable moments.

We landed in sunny Austin on Monday evening, eager to explore the city we’d heard so many good things about. But first things first: tacos! Shane had booked us a table at La Condesa for dinner, just across the river from our hotel. It was a perfect evening for a stroll – warm, a little breezy, sidewalk terraces filled with people.

Admittedly, the tacos were no match for Turlock’s finest taco truck, but this place definitely wins on presentation and ambiance.

After dinner, we wandered over to Sixth Street to check out Austin’s famous nightlife. Horse and buggies, a dude riding a mechanical bull, bar after bar with live music of all sorts – it was a scene. But seeing as how it was 8:30 on a Monday night, most places were relatively empty, so we called it a night without taking any of those hustlers up on their 2-dollar margaritas (you know Shane shudders at this “quantity over quality” approach to cocktails, anyway).

We rolled out of bed gloriously late on Tuesday and headed down to South Congress Cafe for brunch. Carrot cake French toast with creamy pecan syrup? Yes, please. It was rich and sweet and fluffy and ridiculously decadent – perfect vacation fare. Shane went nuts over his Migas Eggs Benedict.

We loved the hip little stretch of shops and restaurants on South Congress – I bought a pair of handmade earrings, Shane looked in a shop window and wondered aloud whether he could pull off trendy western-wear, and we lamented the fact that we were too full to check out any of the street’s other culinary offerings.

After making note of a couple places to return to, we drove to the other end of Congress Avenue to visit the city’s Capitol building. The exterior is constructed of unique red Texas granite, and the dome stands taller than our nation’s Capitol building in D.C. And thus concludes the trivia portion of this blog post…

By late afternoon, I felt like I was due for some quality cafe time, so we headed over to Mozart’s to enjoy their sunny river-view patio. We sipped our cold drinks, read for awhile, and sank further into vacation-mode. Felt good.

Our brunch had finally settled in our stomachs by 6:00, so we made our way over to Contigo for happy hour. It’s been a little tough to watch Shane drink his tasty cocktails while I play the part of the responsible pregnant lady, but I hardly missed the tequila in this concoction of ginger ale, lime, cucumber and mint.

We made it back to our hotel just in time to catch that evening’s “bat exodus” at the Congress Avenue bridge. Yes, you read that right. The underside of this bridge is home to 1.5 million bats, and every evening at dusk between March and October, they leave their bat caves to come out and eat. We stood there on the lawn and watched them pour out of the concrete crevices and swarm in the darkening sky. It was incredible. And a little creepy. But mostly incredible.

From the food to the (relatively) warm weather to the fascinating flocks of night creatures, this city was showing definite promise.

After lingering by the fireplace in our little room for as long as possible on Friday morning, we checked out of the Inn at Weathersfield and were back on the road.

Shane and I remarked several times on the absence of strip malls and ugly stucco box-buildings in Vermont.  The churches, the restaurants, the neighborhood post offices are all so incredibly charming.

Our first stop was at the Quechee Gorge just east of Woodstock – the bridge there offers a killer view over the Ottauquechee River.  We followed the river to Dewey’s Pond, and I found myself dreaming of a little waterfront cabin with a rowboat.

From the Quechee Gorge, we pointed our car toward the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  Some last-minute Googling directed us to a scenic route past Stinson Lake, where we came upon this little gem of a waterfall.  We hopped around the rocks and enjoyed the feeling of being the only ones there – like we’d stumbled up some secret little place meant just for us.

A few miles later, we came upon this lookout and jumped out of the car to snap a couple of pictures in the sunshine.  Two minutes after this, we were showered with tiny balls of hail – we hit the road again and I cranked the heater up until Shane’s eyes watered!

We were a little disappointed to find that we’d missed peak foliage season – a lot of the trees around the White Mountains were already baring their winter limbs.  But Bear Notch Road, just a few miles from our hotel, was still a stunning tunnel of gold and orange.  I turned to Shane around each bend and kept saying “wow!” over and over.

We packed our things up for the last time on Saturday morning and headed east for a two-hour tour of Maine on our way back down to Massachusetts.  We spent just enough time in Portland to get a hot drink, walk past the shops on Exchange Street, and decide we’ll definitely have to come back someday (preferably in the summer – so many ice cream shops there!)

Our final stop was in Salem to catch up with my aunt, uncle, and cousins that live there – we chatted over a pot of tea and a loaf of zucchini bread, and then it was time to head to the airport to catch our flight.  And oooooohh, how I hated to say good-bye to New England.  This trip far exceeded my hopes and expectations.  A home in Vermont may not be in our future (let’s be real, I’d probably spend the entire winter buried under a pile of blankets, begging for mercy), but we will back someday.  So maybe this wasn’t good-bye, just “see ya later…”.  And thanks for everything.

Ho-ly maple trees, I love Vermont. After breakfast in the bright and cozy dining room of our Manchester B&B, we said a little prayer for sunshine, grabbed a latte at Spiral Press Cafe and headed toward Mount Equinox to take in the splendor of the Green Mountains. While the clouds didn’t fully part for us, it was still pretty incredible up there – the hills here are blanketed in a thick fur of green and yellow, stretching as far as the eye can see. We snapped a few pictures, shivered among the frost-covered trees (yowsers, it was chilly up there!), and then slowly made our way back down the mountain, stopping every couple hundred feet to ooh and ahh at the vistas.

Shane took a photo of me nearly ten years ago at Hyde Park in London that still stands out as one of our favorites – I’m tossing an armful of fallen leaves in the air and looking very Mary Tyler Moore with my raised arms and goofy grin. We came across this patch of leaf-covered ground at the bottom of the mountain and Shane suggested that we shoot a sequel. Goofy, indeed…

From Mount Equinox, we wound our way around the northern part of the Green Mountains, pulling over here in there for more oohing and aahing.

We arrived at our B&B in Perkinsville late in the afternoon, settled into our room, and then headed back out the door to explore the area. Vermont is famous for its covered bridges – this little beauty was was just up the street from us.

We saw signs for Woodstock after we crossed the bridge and decided to head that way – I had heard good things about the town from my mom and dad. We listened to the Giants game on the radio while en route and had to pull over in the middle of the ninth inning to give Sergio Romo our full attention. And…yessssss! Despite my bitter doubts, our team is moving on to the next round. We whooped it up for a minute there in the car, then set out to celebrate. Bentley’s in Woodstock was the perfect place to grab a drink and revel in our victory – Shane raised his beer as a champagne-soaked Cain appeared on the TV over the bar.

We ate dinner back at the inn and ended the day with a cup of tea out by the firepit. I don’t know if it’s the brightly-colored leaves or the ultra-charming towns or the extreme calm and quiet, but dang, I really, really love it here. I’m not sure what kind of a living an architect and a systems engineer could make in rural Vermont, but I may be checking those want ads in the morning paper…

Tuesday was our last full day in Boston. Typically I go a little nutso with the sight-seeing when our time in a city starts to come to a close, but I restrained my gotta-see-it-all tendencies and made sure the day held equal parts of exploring and leisure. Shane was up early to take the Orange Line down to Jamaica Plains to pick up the best chocolate croissant in the city – happy birthday to me! I drank tea and ate said croissant in bed while I watched morning talk shows and lounged around until 10 a.m. And that is the stuff of a good vacation.

I eventually mustered up the energy to get myself out the door and headed over to the Financial District to meet up with Emily for a quick tour of the Boston P+W office. I’m still loving that big-city vibe…

I met up with Shane a little later in the North End for lunch at Galleria Umberto – their Sicilian-style pizza had come highly recommended and we were stoked to finally find the place open (this was our third attempt at getting in the door). And wowsers – this was the real deal. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting – the crust was fluffier and more buttery than the wood-fired pizza we usually like, but this stuff was soooo good. It was like Pizza Hut, only amazingly tasty, and sold by an old Italian guy named Frank for $1.55 a slice. Nice.

Baseball game or not, Shane was determined that we wouldn’t leave Boston without seeing Fenway, so we headed over to the ballpark after lunch for a tour. My knowledge of baseball history only extends as far back as the 2010 Giants, but I could still appreciate the richness of this place. One hundred years old and home to some of the best players ever. I can only imagine the roar of the crowd in these seats when Babe Ruth or Ted Williams knocked one out of the park.

Shane was pretty giddy about the whole ordeal – he’s playing it cool here with that smirk as he poses for a shot in the visiting team’s dug-out, but I suspect he was doing cartwheels in his mind.

Post-Fenway, we took the T back over to Thinking Cup for a pot of tea and a fruit tart. Rested and refreshed by our quality cafe time, we headed over to the Prudential Tower to take in the panoramic views from their 50th-floor observatory. I could have spent all day looking down on the brownstones of Back Bay – the charm is almost too much to take!

After a quick stop at Pinkberry for my third birthday treat of the day, we made our way back to the hotel via Newbury Street, so that we could experience the beauty of these brownstones up-close. This stroll really sealed the deal – I am 100%, completely smitten with this city.

We skipped the official Freedom Trail tour hosted by the old dudes in wigs, but we did pause at a few of the most notable sights and do some reading about their history. It’s hard to grasp the fact that some of these buildings and cemeteries are nearly three hundred years old. Seattle feels like such a baby in comparison!

We ended our day with a special dinner at Woodward, capped off with a super-tasty serving of bread pudding and vanilla ice cream (make that treat number four!). Birthdays can lose their appeal once you reach a certain age, but Shane certainly has a way of easing the pain of growing older – thanks, buhb, for a perfect day.

Night had fallen when we left the restaurant and I sighed a little sigh, not wanting to see our visit come to an end – the city had been so, so good to us.

We bid farewell to a rainy Beantown this morning and hit the road toward Vermont. We’re settled into our cozy little B&B now, watching the game and waiting for the rain to let up. Forecast calls for sunshine tomorrow – I’m ready for some serious Fall foliage!

Yesterday was the day I officially fell head-over-heels gaga for Beantown (despite the fact that it’s nickname is, in fact, Beantown – why is that so unappealing?). Shane headed out first thing in the morning for a run, and since I had left my New Balances back at home, I pulled on my gray suede boots and set out for a stroll over to Beacon Hill. I zig-zagged my way toward Boston Common, gazing up toward the tops of skyscrapers and listening to the sound of delivery trucks roll their doors shut as they finished their alley drop-offs. People in suits rushed out of the corner Dunkin’ Donuts, caffeine fix in hand, and the hot dog vendor on State Street started setting up shop. Those few blocks in the Financial District had me majorly high on the big city vibe.

And then I found myself on Mount Vernon Street, at the heart of Beacon Hill in all it’s red-bricked, tree-lined perfection. The sidewalks were quiet and deserted, save the occasional dog-walker, and I wandered slowly toward Charles Street, wanting to savor every last detail of the enchanting brownstones.

I ordered a croissant and a cup of coffee at Cafe Vanille and settled into a sunny little sidewalk table with my breakfast and my Kindle. Shane met me there and we headed over the Boston Public Garden to fully soak in a perfect Fall morning at the park, with it’s sparkling water and green, green grass.

From there, we walked over the to the river to stroll along the lovely waterfront esplanade before eventually winding our way back up toward the North End.

The pizza place we’d been planning to hit up for lunch was closed, so we put our names in for a table at Neptune Oyster Bar for another OMG seafood fest. More plump, fresh oysters paired with crisp glasses of Vinho Verde, followed by an anchovy-topped Caeser salad for me and a hot, buttery lobster roll for Shane. I’ve never really loved oysters, but those Moon Shoals are doin’ a number on me. Deeeee-lish.

We spent the afternoon out in Cambridge, exploring Harvard a bit and then trekking out to the Mount Auburn Cemetery, per a recommendation from a couple we’d met at lunch. I’ve had a thing for cemeteries since my first visit to Pere Lechaise in Paris, and Mount Auburn did not disappoint. Full of winding little pathways among beautiful old tombstones and huge, gorgeous trees – I could have spent hours wandering around there. But dang it, my dogs were barkin’ in those gray suede boots, so we caught the red line back to our hotel so that we could rest for a bit before happy hour.

We met up with my friend Emily in the evening for a beer at the Bell in Hand Tavern, and after a good, solid catch-up with her, Shane and I hopped back on the red line for dinner at Posto in Davis Square. We’d heard great things about their Neopolitan-style pizza and were eager to give it a go. It was good, although a pizza place really has to bring their A-game if they’re going to impress someone who’s eaten at Tutta Bella as many times as we have, so Posto got a solid B (with a couple of bonus points for that Manchego bruschetta). Shane had grand ambitions for after-dinner cocktails on the other side of down, but showing Boston all that love had left me pooped – we settled instead on snuggling into bed and watching the latest Parks and Rec on the iPad. What a day.

We have easily made the transition into full-on vacation mode – we’re sleeping in, eating ourselves silly, and reveling in the absence of stress and work and any to-do’s. Life is good. We kicked off today with a stroll through the North End – more lovely brick facades, more statues of dudes like Paul Revere and John Adams, and heaping tons of charm.

After a little cafe-lounging at Boston Common Coffee Company, we squeezed our way into North Street Grille and grabbed a couple of seats at the bar. The place was packed and cozy, the portions were huge, and Shane gave the mimosas two thumbs up. Score.

Post-brunch, we were ready to stretch our legs and burn some calories, so we walked over to the Seaport District to check out the Institute of Contemporary Art. This building was under construction when my thesis studio took our big tour of Boston architecture in 2005, so it was fun to come back and see the finished product.

The afternoon had turned chilly and gray, so it was nice to take in the views of the bay from the warmth of the open, glassy galleries. The collection was more limited than we expected, but the exhibit by Os Gemeos was lots of fun, and the building itself was a piece of art worth the trip.

We walked back to the hotel through the Greenway Open Market and got swept up in the mobs of people browsing the stalls at the Boston Local Food Festival. We were still stuffed from our over-indulgent brunch, so I behaved myself and walked away with only a kale apple smoothie. And a package of salt-and-pepper dark chocolate, for later, of course.

The rest of the afternoon was good and lazy, with reading and naps and some web-surfing by the lobby fireplace. We rallied around 7 and headed out for dinner in Back Bay at Island Creek Oyster Bar. And oh. my. word. The evening was total perfection, from the champagne cocktails to the fresh, flavorful Moon Shoal oysters, to the creamy clam chowder and the noodles topped with grilled lobster and braised short rib. It was a seafood bonanza. And that wall made of oyster shells held up by wire mesh? Awesome.

We popped back over to the North End for one last stop before going back to the room to catch the game – we’d heard that Mike’s Pastries is a Boston icon and so we joined the hoards of other people craving a late-night cannoli. We took ours to-go, thinking these over-sized, super-rich cream-filled shells would be the perfect way to celebrate a Giants win. Turns out they were more of a consolation prize (9-0 – ouch!), but I’m shrugging it off. Tomorrow is Monday and I’m sleeping in – that’s certainly something to celebrate!

Greetings from Beantown! After a 10:30 red-eye flight from Seattle, we arrived in Boston early Saturday morning, sleepy and stiff, but excited to kick off our New England adventure. We ditched our bags at our hotel (no 8 am check in! gah!) and promptly headed toward Charles Street for breakfast at The Paramount. After chowing down on french toast and huevos rancheros, we stepped back out into the sun, rejuvenated and ready to do some wandering while we waited for our room. We strolled through the neighborhood in all its brick-lined, black-shuttered charm, wondering what it would take to snag one of those beautiful brownstones on the shady, quiet side-streets.

Our food-fueled energy was short-lived and we found ourselves dragging after only a few blocks, so we parked ourselves on a bench at the Frog Pond in Boston Common to soak up some rays and watch the park’s bold, friendly squirrels dart past our feet. I couldn’t shake my sleepiness and felt my eyelids growing heavy (seriously, how did I survive all those all-nighters in college?), so we got up to do a little more walking in search of our second wind. We ended up at the park’s baseball diamond and spent an hour watching the little sluggers go head-to-head – it was kind of a sorry substitute for a Red Sox game at Fenway, but the back row of the bleachers proved to be the perfect place for tilting my face up toward the sun and doing a little dozing.

Our room at the Millennium Bostonian was ready by 11:00, and I nearly jumped for joy at the promise of a hot shower and a long nap. Four hours later, I was a new woman, ready to get out and give Boston a proper hello. Shane and I checked out the offerings at the Greenway Open Market and slowly made our way south for happy hour at Masa. The city was buzzing with Saturday shoppers and the late afternoon sun skimming the brick buildings was lovely – I took it all in, reveling in that hopeful, giddy feeling that comes with the first day of vacation.

The margaritas and half-price tapas at Masa made us even giddier, and we left the bar ready to do a little more exploring and see what else Boston had up its sleeve. Ten minutes later, the city started spitting big, fat raindrops upon us, but not to worry – we were a block away from Thinking Cup cafe (on Shane’s to-visit list) so we ducked inside for a pot of tea and a couple of salted caramel macarons. Those few raindrops soon turned into an all-out torrential down-pour and we happily poured from a second pot of tea and dug into a killer slice of carrot cake to wait out the storm. Sweet tooth and cafe-craving satisfied, we made our way back to the hotel once the skies cleared and spent the rest of the night watching the Giants game from the comfort of our king-size bed. Barring our team’s bitter defeat (the profanities were flying out of Shane’s mouth), day one of our Fall getaway had been a smashing success. Can’t wait to see what else New England has in store for us!