Postcard from St. Lucia

And...we're back! (With lots of photos to share!)

Our first sunset in St. Lucia at Rendezvous Resort

And...I'm a naughty blogger. Or, at least a less-than-committed one. I tried to be so very mysterious about my whereabouts, and then, spurned on by prevalent Wi-Fi and gorgeous scenery, ended up Instagramming my photos. Mystery solved.

Pretty beach curve at Rendezvous Resort

Remember how I mentioned here that I was interested in exploring the Cocoa Trail of the Caribbean (as written about in the NYT article I linked to)? Oddly enough, the name of the hotel must have stayed with me (how could it not, really), because we did in fact spend part of our time in St. Lucia at Boucan's Hotel Chocolat on the Rabot Estate. It was a bit of a splurge, but, if not now, when?

(Clearly there really is something to writing down your dreams, hopes, ideas, etc., and having them manifest! Nudge, nudge, Sweden!)

But let me backtrack. After R steered me away from Cartagena, the idea of St. Lucia started to grow gradually stronger in my mind. For all the reasons I mentioned before, it seemed like the perfect fit. And, funnily enough, a few agencies ago, I did some work on the tourism brand of the country—so it was such a treat to actually experience St. Lucia after working on its branding!

Glorious morning view at Rendezvous Resort

Once we had agreed on St. Lucia, and found reasonable flights, we had to decide where to stay. Since the country has such gorgeous and varied terrain, we thought of splitting our time between the beach and the jungle/mountains. We've never actually stayed at two places on one island before, so that was a first. We rented a car so we could drive between them and around a bit, and I was freaking out beforehand because R's Italian license has expired and I didn't want to be "forced" to drive the rental (they drive on the other side of the road there). Luckily, they didn't even check, so I was spared dealing with that frightening scenario, which would have been greatly compounded given the whirly-turns of the island's topography.

Rendezvous was our first stop—directly on the beach, colonial style architecture, and a more mature/sophisticated crowd. We decided our time there would be a proper (lazy) detox. No more than 20 minutes a day online, lots of beaching, reading, lazing about and sandy walks as the sun set.

All was going well until Day Two when we came back to our room late and fell into bed without realizing the A/C was turned on (and very high), which means we both woke up with horrifically sore throats that later turned into fevers. Quite a damper on the vacation. We both did our best to not let it slow us down too much, but sadly, I'm only just now getting over this nonsense. I'm not sure if I'm more mad that I was sick while on vacation or that I ended up being sick so long. The whole point of my commitment to improving my wellness every chance I get is to avoid piddly things like this—clearly there's a breakdown somewhere. Sigh.

Morning coffee is for (and with) the birds!  |  Rendezvous Resort

St. Lucian boys racing wild horses down the beach  |  Rendezvous Resort

But, back to the trip: the highlight at Rendezvous was definitely seeing local St. Lucian boys racing wild (at least they seemed wild to me) horses along the beach. There were about 10 or so of them and the thundering of hooves crescendoing and then descendoing as they passed was quite thrilling. Other highlights: taking breakfast on the beach (oh so peaceful), and tea time. That's something I love about visiting resorts on English-influenced islands like St. Lucia, and Antigua (where we spent our first honeymoon). Tea time is so proper and civilized.

We also indulged in a little Hobie Cat-ing, one of my favorite things to do when in the Caribbean. I learned how to wield the little boats ages ago (much before I met R), but he always seems to forget that I know how to captain them. I like to remind him once he's sailed us out of the harbor area and then laid down on the netting for a little nap. Then I scooch down the sides, wind the sail rope around my hands and start feeling around for a breeze while I maneuver the rudder thingy. Nothing better than seeing him pop up in surprise when we've started to zoom over the water.

The thing is, I don't really have any idea at all of what I'm doing. R grew up on a proper island (unlike Manhattan), and also served in the Navy, so he actually knows how to man everything from a canoe for fishing off the coast of Sicily to a sailboat to an actual, you know, military boat. I, on the other hand, approach Hobie Cat sailing as I do everything else: try a little of this, a little of that, and if it doesn't work, try a little of something else. Tweaks and whatnot.

And, it works. I'm pretty good at finding a good wind and steering into it so we can get moving. Also fairly good at steering around other boats and mini land outcroppings. What I'm not so good at, though, is slowing down. Which is why almost every time I take over the captain-ing, everything is lovely for a bit until I pick up way too much wind and the speed (and the fact that HC's tilt to the side when going fast) gets to be too much and I freak out and shove everything over at R.

That's my version of the dreaded "pie/cheese wedge" method of stopping when skiing. I should probably learn how to gradually slow down and stop, versus my throwing-of-the-rope and releasing-of-the-rudder, which creates a crazy fast turn and immediate stop. I should also learn the terminology so I can stop saying rudder thingy and rope thingy.

Maybe next time.

The road from Castries to Soufriere, passing by the Pitons

After three days at Rendezvous we headed down the western coast of the island just past Soufriere to celebrate my birthday. We passed the looming Pitons along the way—which ended up playing a starring role for the rest of the trip.

Hotel Chocolat was our second stop—a modern, chic, eco-lodge—where we had finally detoxed enough (nasty illness aside) to have the energy to do a few (brief) hikes, tours of the cacao groves (the national product I alluded to!), and enough of an appetite to indulge (regularly, overly, abundantly) in the cacao-infused menu at the hotel's on-site restaurant.

But first, we had to actually check-in, which involved walking up to the outdoor restaurant / terrace / reception area, where we were faced with this view:

View from the terrace at Boucan Hotel Chocolat

That's the famed Gros Piton of St. Lucia. It and its sister, the Petit Piton, were up for consideration as the 8th wonder of the world. Beautiful, right? As soon as I shut my mouth, which had dropped open when "surprised" by the sight of it at the top of the stairs, we sat down to check in, accompanied by a  refreshing glass of local rum and coconut water. Yes, we were both ill, but when on vacation, right?

Boucan Hotel Chocolat reception and gift shop all in one!

Cacao, cacao everywhere!

Gorgeous restaurant terrace with the most stunning view

Jungly wilds between the main building and all the lodges

Then we were escorted out to our room, and that's when we realized that those nice folks had upgraded us to a Luxe Lodge—an individual villa bigger than our apartment and with a ridiculously huge terrace with a straight on view of the Pitons. Cue another jaw drop:

Looking up to our lodge

View from our lodge, featuring R's foot

The views from our jungly perch to the island's most iconic feature was surreal. Like, smack you in the face with its massiveness, surreal. Now combine that with the gorgeously dark, teak-like furnishings and creamy, gauzy linens (my favorite combo!) and I was in heaven.

Our terrace, besides having that glorious view, came equipped with a nice little tea/coffee-time corner of our own. First order of business that afternoon was indulging in some. And then a few local friends swung by to join us:

Coffee and chocolate and chocolatey-nut break on our terrace...

...where we were joined by this little cutie

My other favorite part of the Luxe Lodge was the indoor/outdoor shower. I'm a clean person, but even I don't need to take three showers a day...which I definitely did while there. A less-favorite part of the lodge was the antithesis of a favorite part: all that nature during the day is wonderful. At night? Less so. There are these frogs and birds that create a racket as soon as the sun begins to dip. I'm someone that has learned to more or less sleep through the non-stop insanity that is NYC noises at night, but even I had to dutifully shove the complimentary ear plugs in so I could sleep. Actually, I had to put them in much earlier, as the show began at dusk. Still, there was something pretty magical about sleeping with that view at the foot of our bed—we chose to keep the louvered doors open all the time (which also made sleeping with a mask a necessity).

Where I spent a good ten minutes, three times a day. New love of my life: indoor-outdoor showers.

While on that part of the island we took a day trip to Sugar Beach to fit in a little more sand time. There was a little kerfuffle since we were accidentally on the Viceroy's part of the beach (which apparently costs $100 to sit on if you're not a hotel guest—?!?!). We smoothed things over (and then hightailed it out). But before all that, at least we enjoyed this:

Sugar Beach cliffs

Sugar Beach

Sugar Beach cabana

But the rest of the time, aside from that hike and a cacao tour, we spent right here. Relaxing on those chaises and facing the Pitons:

Boucan Hotel Chocolat pool & terrace area (once again, featuring R's foot)

The view from where we sat (and R's knees/book)

Oh, there was also a bit of that cacao-tasting menu I mentioned. Can I tell you how nice it is to sit in a restaurant that not only has the usual sea salt and black pepper grinder, but also a cacao grinder? So very nice. The menu included lovely dishes like gazpacho with cacao nibs, micro-green salad leaves with white chocolate, pan-seared tuna with cacao pesto, risotto with portobello mushrooms and cacao nib oil, a red lentil savoury hot pot with cocoa flatbread, angus prime beef with a dark chocolate port sauce, curried and cacao chicken, and on and on it went. And then came the desserts (followed by a decadent breakfast the next day). Surprisingly, despite the deluge of cacao, we never felt uncomfortably full, just pleasantly satiated. Must be the purity of product?

Pre-birthday dinner cacao spread (cacao balsamic, cacao butter puree, cacao oil and herbs)

Hello cacao grinder, where have you been all my life?

I also did a little extra indulging in cacao while at Hotel Chocolat. I looked into their Cocoa Juvenate Spa before leaving and the massages they offered are done with cacao-infused oils. You could choose from: pure cacao, cacao-peppermint, cacao-rose or (drumroll) cacao-nutmeg-cinnamon. It's like they know me! I obviously had to do a massage with that heavenly-sounding (and smelling) cacao-nutmeg-cinnamon oil. Afterwards I broke into a coconut on our terrace hoping the double whammy of deep tissue massage + hydrating coconut would make me feel better. It did, but it didn't knock out the fever like I hoped it would.

Self-medicating with a freshly-cracked coconut

I've needed a good soaking in nature. Our last trip was decidedly a beachfront extravaganza, but this immersion into jungles and cacao plants and volcanic mountains was truly grounding (earthing!). After inhaling fresh island air, digging my toes into actual grass and moss, hiking through animal habitats, immersing myself into mineral-tastic waters and reveling in pure cacao I actually felt a bit radiant—at least in spurts between feverish spikes.

Pitons at daybreak, as seen from our terrace

Hike near some potent sulfur springs

We know that we sleep better on vacation–but it's not just because we're relaxed and far away from demands, although that helps. On vacation, especially a beach one, you're barefoot. Your body is connecting with the earth and grounding the electrons within you. You're swimming for good chunks of the day, getting natural doses of healing minerals like magnesium. You're frolicking on the beach, playing and moving uninhibitedly, dousing yourself with Vitamin D. No wonder we sleep deeply and soundly (with ear plugs) and wake up with the sun and birdsong naturally (if not wearing an eye mask or ear plugs).

I wonder if I could swing a trip back now that I'm feeling better?

Although, I have to say, New York is pretty amazing right now. Crisp 55-60F weather, clear strong sunlight, light breeze. Everyone's got their tights on and belted sweaters and I even saw a few boots today. No heavy coats and gloves just yet, just the first plummy, autumnal layers are being applied. We welcomed fall our own way at home yesterday with a roasted butternut squash (alongside green beans in garlicky olive oil with crushed red pepper and...a shared steak. No dessert though!).

If this weather carries on, though, I don't mind sticking around for a bit at all.

PS. If you're curious about our path around the island:

Escaped again

I've been keeping something from you...

For the last few days R and I have been relaxing on a beach somewhere far, far away from NYC to celebrate my birthday.

I originally thought the only way to welcome in a new decade would be for a bit of adventure, or as I call it, a trip to do some traveling (vs. vacationing). Like our most recent trips, I was still set on sticking to our hemisphere and after lots of consulting of route maps and research into up-and-coming places, I picked Cartagena.

I loved the way Bon Appetit described the seaside city as,

"A place where one can check out for a week or two of utter relaxation; but in recent years, it has also become one of the chicest and most action-packed weekend destinations on earth."

"It also doesn’t hurt that some of the best food in Latin America can be had there, whether it’s the piping-hot arepas (delicious cornmeal disks) sold by street vendors or the fresh seafood in its many world-class restaurants. Lots of picks to visit when you’re not boat-hopping on the islands, touring the Inquisition museum, or shopping for mochilas (colorful woven totes native to the area)."

Travel & Leisure also had good things to say:

"Take a dash of faded colonial grandeur, then add a dose of sultry nightlife and an influx of cosmopolitan travelers seeking the next great Caribbean hot spot...this emerging Colombian getaway delivers all this and more."

So, you might understand why I was so into it. As soon as I decided, I went about my usual scramble of researching to death: hotels, excursions, restaurants, cafès, etc—I have a massive Google Doc with all my notes, in case anyone's interested.

But then R pointed out that perhaps a week in a city, where the most charming bits can be covered in a few days, would be too much. He had a better suggestion: a proper Caribbean island that's lush, hilly, gorgeous and volcanic (that unexpected power looming beneath the surface calls to me—maybe that's why I felt at home in Sicily?), with a national product that I'm supremely interested in learning about and enjoying in all its forms. Combine that with a dash of glamour and luxury, plus the chance to do lots of hiking, swimming, and indulging in alluded-to national product, and I was sold.

Any guesses as to where we are?

{ First image (c) http://allinclusiveguide.wordpress.com }
{ Second image (c) Zach Stovall / Caribbean Travel Mag }

Sicilia Selvaggia, Wild Sicily

"I'm so glad that I fell in love with a Sicilian. There's something about the uninhibited, but many-times-over-inhabited land that makes sense to me. The fiery spirits and fiery food, the wildness of the plains, the roughness of the rocky crags, the introvertedness of people living in small, remote hilltop towns where they only speak Ancient Greek, the hooded glances and double-voweled and -consonant'ed dialects that echo Arabic origins, the fierceness and protectiveness of a much-conquered people. I don't think I'd ever set foot in a place that I recognized as much as I did as when I first rode the night train from Reggio Calabria on the mainland to Messina, the port of entry into Sicily.

A Dixie 4th

{  Carolina Country: a crazy shade of green thanks to all the rain  |  July 2013  }

Yesterday I woke up at 4AM, got into a car, and wound along country roads, past quiet homesteads and barns to the airport for the first flight out to JFK. By just after 8AM I was back in the rat-tat-tat and buzzz-buzzz-buzzzzing of New York. My regular view could hardly compare with the vibrant and verdant view I had just left (see: above).

I had just spent a cozy, homey 4th of July holiday down south in North Carolina with my fellow "y'all"-saying brethren, while poor R remained up in New York with the Yankees (another instance of our opposite schedules being a giant pain). How ironic that his US Citizenship Interview + American civics test + English exam are rapidly approaching (less than two weeks away!), and he couldn't even celebrate Independence Day properly.

When my friend whom I hadn't seen in almost two years (this is what happens when you have a whole country between you) invited us down to visit her family with her at their new'ish house, I was thrilled. The chance to take a break from the city, spend time with my friend and her great family (seriously: so great), and be thisclose to some horsies and a crazy loveable dog? I bought a ticket as soon as I could!

R already knew he wouldn't be able to join me because of work, but I'm glad he didn't mind me popping down here alone. Unless you count quick little afternoon jaunts across or up the Hudson and East River, and of course that all-too-short amazing trip to the Caribbean, I've only left the city two or three times total so far this year and you wouldn't believe how excited I was for some fresh country air, farmer's markets and open spaces.

{  This is why you always fly out of JFK in the morning...and hope for no rain  |  July 2013  }

Getting there was a teensy bit problematic, though. I foolishly packed my red leather bag (that I bought at the markets in Florence 8 years ago and lovingly carried wrapped in towels and plastic for the remaining 2 weeks of my trip through Italy) instead of a rolly suitcase. I must have forgotten that that (heavy) bag is better suited to car trips...or to carrying when R is with me so that he can carry it.

So there was that. Then there's the fact that I had to go to work first. Walking to the subway, descending into its sticky depths, and then trudging to the office, working for a few hours and then repeating made for an intensely disgusting state of things. I was hot, damp, and I had burst a few capillaries in my shoulders from the weight of my luggage.

The last few times I've traveled I've taken a car service, but this time, since I wasn't leaving at some awful time, I decided taking the subway made more sense (plus saved $100 round trip!), especially since I had to head out at rush hour.

After arriving at the airport breathless and a wee bit grungy, I wasn't so sure it was such a great idea, though. And then of course I get to the airport and the signage is all whackadoo so I wound up at the wrong terminal and than had to run with my bag banging against my hips only to get to the right gate in the right terminal to find 5 flights waiting to leave from the same gate and mine pushed back 90 minutes, thanks to the storm. When we finally boarded we ended up sitting on the runway for another 90 minutes.

Eventually I get there at midnight and my friend (who sweetly took over the bag situation) and her sister are waiting for me at the airport and they whoosh me back to their family's house and I wake up the next morning after sleeping in the most comfortable bed to this gorgeousness:

{  Horsey morning—they're wearing masks because all the rain drew out loads of flies  |  July 2013  }

Over the three full days that I was there we kept busy barbecuing, bonfire-ing and boating plus lots of petting of the animals (ponies and puppies), porch-sitting, and puttering about aimlessly:

There was a trip to the Farmer's Market (which included my first full-on meal down South, so obviously fried chicken and fried green tomatoes were on my plate), a drive out to Fearrington Village to visit with one of my college roommates (whom I haven't seen for an even longer time—and oddly enough, she just moved to the next town over), and a ride out to Jordan Lake to try out my friend's brother's new boat and specially-purchased tube.

There was also the paging thru of Bon Appetit and Martha Stewart magazines while watching silly TV, meandering out to the vegetable and herb plot for some fresh-picked greens for our meal, the making of homemade ice cream (which was then churned on the back porch!), the building of a bonfire and roasting of s'mores over it to the soundtrack of our very own fireworks going off, a walk through UNC Chapel Hill's campus and, I finally learned how to make a proper margarita (a very useful skill).

 {  North Carolina July 4th feast prep  }

{  Boating and tubing on Jordan Lake  |  4th of July 2013  }

{  A little jaunt to the UNC Chapel Hill campus for a collegiate stroll  |  July 2013  }

But you know what I really loved? The house itself. It was such a perfect setup (which was of course made even better by the kind family that filled it!). Think: wide front porch, open kitchen and double-height living room, second floor balcony overlooking the living room, outdoor deck with a gazebo, screen porch with a lounge area and a dining area, and all of that opening onto a beautiful, literally rolling lawn that led down to the horse paddock (which also has a bonfire pit). There were just so many pretty and cozy areas of the house to sit and chat or watch the dogs and their crazy antics. Speaking of, look at this face!

{  One of the dogs of the manor  |  North Carolina  |  July 2013  }

Such a lovely time.  So glad I got to tag along down to Dixie. A very happy 4th of July, indeed!

Postcard from Mexico

{  Cocktails on our terrace with a view  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

This trip down to the Mexican coast was truly, JUST what we needed. I mean, really, just LOOK at this technicolor splendor—what do you think, totally a good call, no? It's funny because this trip almost didn't happen...

{  Poolside  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

First because we were really more interested in trying out a new-to-us Caribbean island (St. Lucia and Grenada were high on the list), but since we booked this 5 days before our plane took off, Mexico made the most sense. Because it's such a popular destination (for multiple types of travelers: couples, singles, families, etc.), it's really affordable. And there are TONS of non-stop flights. The smaller, boutique islands? Two - three times more expensive, less (if any) direct flight options and, to be honest, the islands without an Hispanic background are hit or miss when it comes to culture and food—at least the ones I've visited.

{  Scrumptious, colorful breakfasts  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

But, Mexico? The land of white sands, turquoise water, tequila, mariachi, mezcal, mole, the Maya and lots and lots of spicy foods? It really was the perfect choice—and, I think it was a nice touch that we arrived in country on Cinco de Mayo. Plus, we were able to book at a brand-new, 5-star resort for a fraction of what a mainstream place on a small island would have cost, which of course made the spontaneous vacation that much more enjoyable.

{  Such a sucker for palapas  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

So the decision to pop down to Mexico was made, but the second reason the trip almost didn't happen was maybe, just a teensy bit my fault.

I always book our travel arrangements—we both research of course, but I pull the trigger and then coordinate frequent flier numbers, booking car services, calling the credit card and cell phone companies, etc. Trust me, my detail-oriented, down-to-the-quarter-hour scheduling heart loves it and so I gladly hog all the planning duties and have yet to make a bad call.

But this time I made an executive decision that it would be ever so much more civilized to wake up at 4:45AM and take a 5:30AM car the 20 miles to the airport for our flight. Our international flight. Which was to take off at 7:10AM.

Yep—oops!

Now, my reasoning was that every time we go to the airport we always end up futzing around the airport for two hours, which seems like such a waste. And besides, there's never any traffic at that hour of the day. Except of course this time we hit traffic on the BQE, right before the Kosciuszko Bridge—meaning no way out. For a very tense little bit I was quietly freaking out, while trying not to freak R out so that he wouldn't have reason to say, "I told you so" (which of course he would have had every reason to say). Google Maps told me there was a three-car pile-up and I made up my mind that we were going to miss our flight and I began stealthily checking for the next flight out.

Luckily, after about 20 minutes we started moving and swooped up in front of JFK at 6:20AM—ran in, got berated by the check-in staff for arriving so late (note: we were already checked in and weren't checking any luggage), zoomed through security and screeched up to our gate only to see that they had just started boarding.

Whew.

The rest of our travel down was blessedly uneventful. R dozed and I got started on my pile-o-reading materials, which included 1 book, 3 e-books, and a backlog of NYT Magazines.

{  Crystal clear waters  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

And then we walked into our hotel's lobby and that's when it happened.

Utter deliriousness hit.

I couldn't stop smiling, twirling around with my arms extended, beaming at everyone and everything. Our resort was so pretty and shiny and glam and lux and sunshiney! So very sunshiney! By noon local time we were sitting at a teak'esque table by the pool, under a gazebo, ordering ceviche and two tequilas to sip as we looked giddily about.

{  Evening lull  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

{  Crashing surf  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

For the next few days the euphoria totally continued—although I wasn't quite so batty. We woke up when we woke up, dawdled down to the pool or the beach when we felt like it, enjoyed some crazy delicious food and drink, pampered ourselves with two hydrotherapy circuits at the spa (cool shower, sauna, steam room, plunge pool, jacuzzi, repeat) and a deep tissue massage for each of us.

I don't even mind that it was a repeat country for me (something I try to avoid because there's oh-so-much to see in this world). There's actually not one single thing I would have changed about our trip—well, except maybe I wouldn't have worn a stack of rings on my right hand the whole time. I came back with a pretty ridiculous tan line!

All this to say: that was a damn good trip.

{  We're definitely doing this more often!  |  Cancun, Mexico  |  May 2013  }

Fleeing the foolishness

{ Riviera Maya via }

I said we were NYC hostages until we had some movement on the various citizenship process appointments, but the never-ending winter + mind-boggling, rage-inducing Italian news came together last week in a spark of combustive fed-up-ness that sent me right to Orbitz.com to book a mini-retreat on the Mayan peninsula.

{ Riviera Maya via }

So, we're here now. Laying in the sun. Ignoring the headaches of NYC. Banishing bureaucratic madness from our minds. Replenishing our Vitamin D reserves. Zooming through a figurative stack (thanks, Kindle!) of books. Drinking tequila. And just generally spoiling ourselves silly.

{ via }

{ via }

Be back soon.

Maybe.

Supposedly sweet Hudson Valley high

{ Aerial view of the Hudson River  |  via }

I love the Hudson Valley, I really do. It's pretty and bucolic and I love supporting the farmers and artisans that hark from Hudson, but, after 7 years of living back in New York and a few trips up and down the river (to Millbrook, Millerton, Hudson, Harmon-on-Hudson, and Cold Spring), I have to say—writers like these are either pulling the wool over our eyes or I'm doing something wrong.

Or, maybe it's just that the towns with train stations depositing visitors directly onto Main Street—the only ones we can easily visit via Metro North, given our lack-of-car—are the problem. Maybe if we could meander further and deeper to where the locals are without worrying about train tracks and schedules we'd find the quaint and charming Hudson Valley town of my dreams?

Either way, doesn't change the fact that the towns we have poked around in have been woefully despondent and unwelcoming. Think: closed storefronts, barren streets and buildings with lots and lots of peeling paint. Now combine that with $60 train tickets, and you've got one sullen J.

So, if you've heard of any adorable train/foot accessible towns along the Hudson, please share! We're stuck in the city while we wait to hear back from our applications, so until we can take a proper holiday any and all day trip suggestions welcome! We haven't left New York since the the very beginning of the year and our lack of Vitamin D (yep, still cold and overcast here) and abundance of concrete barriers are making us decidedly un-Springy and peppy.

Serious cases of city fever here, people.

{The Hudson Valley  |  via }

{ Hudson Valley glory  |  via }