4 whole years....

Today is May 29th, and Dirk and I first met and got all googly-eyed over each other 4 years ago today! Here's a progression of the courtship, with year to year photos:

El Yunque (El JOOOON-KAY!)

I was thrilled about visiting Puerto Rico’s El Yunque National Rainforest, but non-too thrilled about the WAY in which I was going to be visiting it. I mean, there’s got to be a better way to experience the United States’ ONLY tropical rainforest than on a loud, gas guzzling, all terrain vehicle (ATV), right? Then Tree Hugger Libba stepped aside to make room for Iowa Farm Girl Libba, who actually had a really good time.

Mostly because the trail took us to the Mamayes River, which runs out of the mountains and is the coolest, clearest river I’ve ever had the liberty of jumping off of a rock into. Our Puerto Rican guides (both named Sammy) impressed us all by diving from tree branches into the river and painting our faces with stones rubbed against rocks to produce clay.

Real quick, let me mention that this was the youngest press trip I’ve been on to date. Usually I’m the baby of the group, which includes at least a few token male journalists, but on this trip, I was one of 14 young, beautiful, talented, journalists and PR people, which made for some images I’m sure Executive Traveler’s readers will enjoy.

Is this not the fiercest photo you've seen all week?!

I got mugged in Puerto Rico....by an iguana....

He spotted me during his leisurely stroll past the hot tub.



He crept closer and closer, forcing me to vacate my lounge chair.



He leapt onto my chair and crawled quickly towards my fruit bowl.



He eagerly ate a few kiwi slices and held onto the basket for dear life during it's removal.



Then he decided he preferred Diet Coke and started drinking mine.

Then the Cabana Boy came by and clapped his hands 'till he scurried for the hills. I got away with my life, but just barely.

Is this really my life?!

I realized at some point today that I’ve gotten good at traveling. If navigating airports, chatting up drivers to and from hotel transfers, making friends with concierges and front desk attendants in order to get my way, and packing five days worth of clothing, all my camera equipment, laptop equipment, and books without having to check a bag can be considered a talent, then I can definitely list it as a skill on my resume.

This caught me by surprise today, when I remembered back to a time when I used to get so anxious before traveling that it would often induce vomiting and crazy bad nausea. Now I only get stressed during my layover on the way HOME, when the full weight of everything awaiting my return comes down on my shoulders. Deadlines at work (no one is doing my job for me while I’m traveling), needing to spend quality time with family, friends, boyfriend and dog, a house that hasn’t been cleaned in a week, sheets and laundry that need to be washed, suitcases that need to be unpacked, plants that need to be watered, photos that need to be edited, stories that need to be written. Lately it has been hard to have a life at home because I’m never there. I’ve been on the road so much that I’ve started running into people that I know from previous trips! We greet each other like old pals, even though the last time we said good-bye we thought it was forever.



I pinch myself every day to remind myself that this is my JOB. I get paid to travel, take photographs, and get treated like a VIP. I know that one day down the line, when I have children and different responsibilities, that I will look back at this time and think, “Are you kidding me?!”

I’ve swam with dolphins, I’ve taken thrilling helicopter rides, I’ve had picnics on deserted Caribbean beaches, I’ve hiked through rainforests and swam in waterfalls, I’ve eaten nine-course meals at five-star restaurants, my body has been massaged and scrubbed and polished and wrapped at spas, I’ve attended reggae concerts and taken tours in stretch limos, all the while sipping champagne. I’ve been fortunate enough to invite friends along on a few trips, taking my sister to London, my mother to Monterey, my college buddy Collins to Vail. Not only will I never again have the time to travel this way, but I seriously doubt I’ll have the funds!



Well, I’m off to a bioluminescent bay kayaking trip! Stay tuned for more on Puerto Rico!

This ALMOST makes me want another one....

Dirk put together this video last night from clips we've taken throughout Sipsey's puppyhood. It's pretty lengthy, but oh so cute! The video ends after 5 minutes, although the audio continues. We haven't quite figured that out yet!

tickling some ivory

My favorite part of my recent trip to Arkansas was a visit to the Riddle Elephant Sanctuary (www.elephantsanctuary.org), which is home to 8 Asian and African elephants aged 5 months to 50 years old. We were allowed to pet some of the older Asian females, Miss Betty Boop (Boopers) in particular. What really made a huge impact on me was when Scott Riddle said, “There are no such thing as ‘wild’ elephants. Even if elephants do not live in captivity, they are impacted by humans in some way, shape, or form, whether it be by nearby farmers, safari’ing tourists, or poachers. Within ten years every elephant on this planet will live in captivity.” How depressing, huh? There is no wild.
Another interesting revelation came by way of Toby, a young African male who swayed side to side a la Stevie Wonder. He’s what they refer to as “challenged,” meaning, he failed to fully develop, both mentally and physically. It had never occurred to me that animals, as well as humans, can suffer from mental and physical retardation. Interesting. I could have watched the elephants all day long, especially Aimee and her baby, Miss Bettes. Toby, the five-year-old African male, was born at the sanctuary on Animal Planet, I need to look up the name of the show. When I told Mama about the elephants, her first reaction was “Did you cry?!” That depends on your definition of cry. I definitely had tears in my eyes, but I’m pretty sure it was a result of the ammonia released from all of the pee.

Dirk was so jazzed about the video clips I got at the Sanctuary that he set a few to music. Here’s a video of Max doing his booty-shakin’ dance in the hopes of receiving some treats from Scott.

Key West....General Impressions

A little like Charleston...

A little bit of New Orleans...

A little bit like Seaside...

And a little bit like Holstein (where else would a cop ask YOU to pose for a photo?!)

Wind and (lots of) Wine Cruise

Danger Cruises offers a high-class “Wind and Wine Cruise” past Sunset Key in Key West. I forget how many varietals they offered, because the sommelier had me at “champagne.” He was very knowledgeable (and obviously a great salesman), explaining the vintages prior to departure from the dock, including a pinot grigio (my wine of choice) to boot. A blonde hottie passed around cheese, crackers, and fresh veggies with dip, providing attractive alternate scenery to the aquamarine waters of the Gulf. It was another “pinch myself” moment, as I sipped champagne, took in the ocean breeze and view, felt the yacht gently rocking beneath my feet, and looked around at a group of people I’ve come to respect and whose company I greatly enjoy, but will most likely never cross paths with again. What a strange profession I am in.

It's good luck if they land on you...

Entering Key West’s Butterfly Conservatory (www.keywestbutterfly.com) feels like you’re a character in a cartoon filled with all different sizes and shades of butterflies. It’s a truly surreal experience, and not altogether unfrightening. The dreaded “CRUNCH” on the sidewalk, the swatting of the head (a normal reaction when feeling an insect land) these actions are frowned upon at the butterfly establishment. It’s a great place for children, photographers, and gardeners, who will pick up some tips on plants that attract the cute lil’ buggers.
The gift shop reminded me of Julie Doxtad’s kitchen, which is adorned with framed pinned butterflies that I’ve always guiltily admired. The mandatory sophomore bug collection continues to haunt me, with images of Wade Bagenstos’s bugs crawling off the straightening board with the pins thrust through their thin little wings. But then I encountered the most spectacular moth, and learned that it only lives for three days, because it emerges from its cocoon without a mouth. So essentially, it has three days to exhibit its glory before it succumbs to starvation. It makes me wonder whether or not I would trade places with such an insect, in order to be that amazingly beautiful for three entire days, which seems like a short time to us, but is a lifetime to a moth.

Beachside Key West

I spent the past four days in Key West, as a guest of Beachside Resort & Conference Center (www.beachsidekeywest.com), a new property about three miles from downtown Key West. First of all, they had to kick me out of my suite (quite literally, as I requested a four p.m. check out), which was out of this world. Marble-tiled floors, a full-sized kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a Sub-Zero fridge, two flat screens (one in the bedroom, one in the living room), a Jacuzzi bathtub, and a shower the size of my first apartment. When I walked into the suite, it was all I could do not to scream, jump up and down and then ask my bell boy to pinch me (he WAS rather cute.) But then he reminded me of my VIP status. Me? VIP? And he proceeded to show me my balcony, which had a spiral staircase up to a rooftop ocean view patio. Yeah. It was from this roof each morning that I watched a man and his dog canoe from a teeny tiny island about half a mile off-shore. Apparently the “Key West homeless” have their own islands, similar in size to the two in Storm Lake. Sure beats the Interstate overpasses the Birmingham homeless inhabit!The resort hosted a beachside, luau celebration to welcome the journalists the first night of the trip, with an open (fully stocked) bar, a buffet that included salad toppings such as blue cheese and sliced cucumber, a delicious mahi mahi dish, and a pig. Yuck. My father would have been in heaven. We were serenaded by a local man named Bongo D, who romanced us with music selections ranging from Bob Marley to Gloria Estefan. He did take requests and played “Redemption Song” just for me! The terms and conditions included my singing along. Bob was rolling over in his grave.
My free time at Beachside was spent poolside, where I sipped beers and enjoyed my book. The in-room massage was nice, though rather strange, it being my first out-of-spa massage experience and my first male masseuse. It was hard to relax and enjoy myself without the dimmed lights, warm oil, towels, and soothing music that a spa provides, but a massage is a massage, and I will never complain about receiving one.

For a press trip, my time at the hotel felt amazingly similar to being on vacation, actually, and I returned with many new friends. The Sales and Marketing Team were topnotch entertainers, even going so far as to party on Duval with us one of the nights.

Beachside is perfect for someone like me, who likes to get a true sense and perspective of a place, but likes to be removed from the all-night partying and debauchery. It provides a laid-back home base with easy access to the craziness.

Just like a mullet. Business in the front. Party in the back.