I Have Standards

Amongst other things, I'm a coffee snob. I LOVE coffee. I love it more than wine (gasp) and I could drink it with every meal. Yes, every meal, morning, noon and night. When I was a working girl I would drink a cup in the mornings before work, then grab one on the way to the office - which I would sip on until lunch time. Sometimes in the afternoon I would get a third cup, though usually decaf. If I couldn't get a third cup, I would re-heat the old coffee for the afternoon. I know what you're thinking, and yes it did taste burnt.

I've been spoiled in almost every place I've lived with perfectly delicious coffee. Actually I remember the first Starbucks that opened in my hometown. It was at the Tampa International Airport and I believe I was just old enough for it to be OK for me to have coffee. Back then, going to the airport was a treat because usually we were picking up someone in town to visit and we could get a cup of Starbucks while we waited. In NYC and DC there were plenty of locally roasted, home grown places to purchase the perfect cup. In Dupont Circle, within a two minute walking radius from my apartment I had over five coffee shops to choose from. There wasn't a moment I had to consider drinking something sub-par.

My favorite type of coffee - not including type of beans and level of roasting - is just plain old American drip coffee. I sometimes drink it black, sometimes with a splash of milk, and once in a while black with a smidgen of honey (I don't really like sweet drinks). When at home I make my coffee by heating the water in a stove top kettle, grinding the beans fresh, and brewing in a single cup french press. I make one cup at a time. The process of making it has become a ritual for me. A way to transition from night to day, from dreams to reality.

Kuwait is a dry country - in case you didn't already know. I never thought I would move to a dry county let alone a dry country. No pork or porn either. I know, what a lame place you might be thinking. But its redeeming quality, at least in my mind before we arrived, was that they have a very active coffee culture. Instead of a bar on every corner, there are coffee shops. Just like in other large cities, sometimes two Starbucks face each other. Besides Starbucks there is Caribou Coffee, Illy, and MANY local joints I've yet to hit up. My fantasy was to buy beans from these local joints and experiment with local flavor.

Ah, yes. How does that old saying go? "The best laid schemes of mice and men, go often awry." Once pregnant and sick as a dog my little cafe dreams didn't stand a chance (and moving to a dry country suddenly didn't seem so crazy). Although my doctor said it was OK to drink 6-8 oz of caffeine a day, I couldn't even smell coffee in my first trimester. The idea of drinking it made me gag. I replace my morning ritual with dry Eggo waffles and orange juice.

Recently, I've began to be wooed by coffee again. Regular coffee now gives me the jitters and what I didn't count on is that no one really drinks decaf here. Here in this entire country. There is no decaf American drip coffee to be had (iced decaf Americana has been the closest acceptable substitute). Not even decaf beans at the grocery store.

With each passing day of not finding exactly what I wanted. My standards changed. My mind opened. One day, I found decaf instant Folger's and bought it with the excitement of a 5 year old on Christmas. I got home and "brewed" it right away. I set up a place setting and dusted off my favorite coffee cup. It tasted like dirty soapy water. My little heart was broken with defeat.

Finally after over a month of searching, I've found something acceptable. In an isolated little corner of my local grocery store there is a section called "organic corner". It has packaged organic goods including instant decaf coffee! And it doesn't taste like dirty soapy water!

Now I gladly drink my instant decaf coffee each morning in the crisp fall air on my balcony (and by crisp fall I mean mid to high 70s). I drink my coffee with pride and satisfaction because by drinking it I was able to overcome the biggest obstacle of moving overseas - managing my own expectations.

Call for Submissions! High Heeled Traveler Issue Two: The Road Not Taken

Hello, dear readers! Thanks so much for all your support for the launch of High Heeled Traveler, The Magazine. I am nearly sold out of Issue One: Exploring Home (so exciting)! So if you would like a copy, go here to purchase.

As soon as the first issue was printed, I began working on issue two (talk about a whirlwind!). Issue two will center around Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken. Here is the poem in case you are unfamiliar:

Mountain Interval
The Road Not Taken
1920
Robert Frost (1871-1963)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim, 
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I always choke up when I read this poem as it touches me in a very real and emotional way. Sometimes it can be hard to make as simple a decision as what to each for lunch. Other times we are faced with life decisions that can lead us down on path or another. I see this more and more in relation to my career as I age. As I made decisions not to take the traditional path, some doors close that can never be reopened. But the path I've chosen is refreshing and challenging and welcome. This applies to all aspects of our lives, private and public. Taking control of our lives and making impassioned and courageous decisions instead of living in fear, can make all the difference.

I am looking for artists, writers, poets, chefs, historians, musicians, and experts in their fields to share their stories and images inspired by this poem. Topics can include anything related to art, architecture, culture, science, gastronomy, travel, style and even personal memoirs. Submissions can be made by email to jamie@highheeledtraveler.com. Please submit poetry and writings as PDF documents and artwork or images as high-resolution TIFF files. Don't forget to include your contact information. All work must be original and created for this issue. Deadline for submissions is JUNE 1.

A special note if you are interested in submitting original music or video, I would love to include these by publishing the lyrics and stills in the magazine with a link to the song or video on my blog.

2013 Presidential Inauguration

I had the honor of attending the Presidential Inauguration yesterday. I had every intention to live tweet my experiences and observations of my surroundings. My plan was to link to the twitter feed of my in-the-moment feelings today and encourage a conversation about your comments on the event.

But as life seems to go sometimes, I had no cell service the entire time. I couldn’t even send a text message. It forced me to be in the moment and observe my fellow Americans on a truly historical day.

My friends and I arrived to our gate at the appointed time and came to find that they were not letting anyone in. Huge crowds got even bigger as people stacked up waiting to get in. Finally after an hour of patiently waiting, we entered the first holding pin. Another 20 minutes and we are up at the security line, where each person is screened, one at a time. People in the crowd weren’t as aggressive or pushy as I was expecting. And not as rude either. Most waited with excitement, talking to each other about what they were expecting to see, how cold it was, and how we might end up missing it because of the delay. We finally made it to a reasonable spot just in time to see Vice President Joe Biden swearing in.

The crowd tried to listen. They wanted to hear President Obama’s speech and they wanted to take their picture, proving they witnessed it. During the speech, Mr. Obama’s voice echoed on the loud speakers, all the way down the Mall back towards the White House. Each word seemed to be spoken three or four times. The man next to me had his headphones in and was recording the speech on his ipad. Presumably hundreds of others, who had their phones in the air, were doing the same thing. Many people were very focused on capturing the experience instead of experiencing it, which was also my plan originally. The child next to me was sitting on the ground playing Angry Birds while her parents split their attention between each other and the President. People were proud to be there, wearing hats, pins, scarves, bags all plastered with “OBAMA” and “I was there Inaugural 2013.”

It’s funny because when you go to events like this, or sporting events, you can usually get a better view of the game or presenter from the comfort of your TV at home. We couldn’t see the President from where we stood. But when you go to the game its about camaraderie. It’s about being with people and experiencing life together. I got so caught up in it all that I almost bought a souvenir Washington D.C. snow globe!

Later, the news noted how this was the speech that Obama’s liberal followers were waiting for and couldn’t wait to start picking it apart. But that’s not what I got out of it. I didn’t hear a bunch of liberal ideals and agendas. I saw hope and joy on the faces of my fellow Americans as they got to stand together peacefully on the lawn of the Capitol Building witnessing our democratic system actually work. They were proud to be part of a country where we can peacefully transition leadership (even though in this instance the same man was re-elected). We were all there for the same reason, in the same gated off area, taking pictures for each other.

As we walked back home, I watched as people celebrated in the streets and found their way to their parade seats. I couldn’t help but think about what I had just witnessed. I thought about the words at the beginning of the speech, quoting from the Declaration of Independence:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness."

I think Mr. Obama was calling us to make this statement real now. Don’t give up on the system, don’t throw in the towel and stop trying because “only people with money get things done” or “I’m just one voice.” History has proved that we can ignite passion in each other and accomplish great things together. For several hours I stood amongst a crowd of people that, as completely different as they all were individually, I believe could do just that.

Special thanks to my friend Nick for generously giving me his extra ticket and taking some of these great pictures!

Destination: Nice, France

It was my first time leaving the United States. I was going on a road trip through the Cotê d’Azur and Provence regions of France, then taking the train to Nancy and finally Paris, where I would be studying abroad. I would be accompanied by my mother. And we would land in Nice, France on a cool summer morning.

As soon as we landed, chaos ensued. We hurriedly followed the crowd to our luggage carrousel and dragged our bags off the moving belt. I could feel my mother’s anxiety heighten as we searched in vain for the rental car stand. All of my life she was such a strong leader, always knowing the direction to take, but in this moment she was ill and she didn't know what to do. I remember time slowing at the same time it quickened. I barely understood the chatter around me; the signs were all in French. But somehow I knew where I was and how to get to where I wanted to be. Instincts took over and I headed to the exit. She followed me. As we arrived at the rental car stand, the English speaking employee was on a break. I had to get the car, pay, and get directions to the hotel all in my shaky French. And I did. I’m sure he could tell I was nervous, but I was able to communicate.

It was such a tiny moment in my life, full of so many others more significant. But this moment was a turning point for me. I was challenged. I became calmer as the situation grew more stressful. I took the lead in finding a solution, and I took action. I made decisions, communicated, and triumphed. All while having a loose grasp of my foreign surroundings. I thought, if I can do this, I can do anything. Any nerves I had about being in a foreign country were quelled.

Once in the car, my mom took over again, as she is a skilled driver of stick shift (I am still but an amateur). Things were different between us. I could feel that she was proud of me. She wouldn’t have to babysit her tiny daughter on this trip – we could be friends, peers.

Nice was stunning. I felt like I was on the set of Alfred Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief as we walked through the streets. It felt luxurious and timeless. Nice is one of the oldest cities in the world and has been a vacation getaway for centuries because of its perfect Mediterranean climate. There were a lot more people than I expected, between the local population and tourists the number was near a million. Buildings were a mix of styles, some Italian, some French, and painted coral, with shades of blue and green for trim, they were bright but white washed from the sun. The streets smelled like salt water, fresh coffee, and wafts of that familiar smell of someone’s dinner escaping through the windows and fireplace. Old women hung out of third floor windows, watching passersbys and tending to their window gardens, while old men stood in groups in the streets, smoking cigars and talking. Tourists searched for an English speaking restaurant downtown.

Our activities included a visit to the Museum of Modern andContemporary Art, where we learned about the Nice School of Art in the 1960’s, represented Yves Klein, and the troves of artists, like Matisse and Marc Chagall, who have been attracted to Nice’s soft light over the years. Most of our meals were enjoyed in the sidewalk cafes. Meals lingered here; even lunch was served in courses, finishing with an espresso. I’d always wanted to eat a meal like that.

I was determined to speak French, even though a lot of people spoke English and I was timid. Each person I spoke to was so kind about helping me. My pronunciation and understanding grew with each meal or shopping trip.

A must in Nice is to walk along the Promenade d’Anglais which spans the length of the waterfront. Their beach was much different than ours in Florida. It didn’t have powdery white sand but instead grey rocks. I found it strangely alluring, although it was definitely not as comfortable for tanning. 

I also experienced one of the worst tours I’ve ever been on. It was pre-arranged through a travel agent and neither our driver nor guide spoke English. We had to hop into the backseat of a shady van to drive from scenic place to scenic place. The guide had a script that she read from but could not answer questions. Between her accent and reading the script like a robot, not taking breathes or pausing between sentences, to this day I’m not sure what I was looking at or why.

One of our destinations on the tour included a candy making factory. We didn’t see people making candy, but apparently it was made there and it was famous and American tourists like those types of things, so we went. The gift shop had hoards of middle aged women in white sneakers attempting to secretly pull their money out of their passport fanny pack, which was underneath their clothes, to buy candy in bulk. The sales women were aggressive too. The whole scene reminded me of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. My mom and I still laugh about it to this day.

My confidence grew throughout our trip. I had never felt so liberated. I loved learning new habits for eating breakfast (coffee and a bit of baguette) or having long lunches or speaking a new language. I liked to watch people and see how they dressed differently or acted the same. Sure, it was frustrating at times when I couldn’t communicate or when we just needed toothpaste and couldn’t find a drug store (Oh, it’s around the other corner…) but the sense of accomplishment and the excitement of seeing such an amazing place were addictive. It was then that my desires changed from “sure, I like to travel” to “I must find a way to do this the rest of my life.”

Discovering Art and Art History: Q Antiques & Design

photo courtesy of Q Antiques and Design, Chris Thompson Photography, 2011

As I mentioned two weeks ago here, dealers are an important part of the art world. They are the ones mostly responsible for the buying and selling of fine art and art objects. This week we will start with antiques, because who doesn't want something old and something new?

It can be difficult to find unique objects for the house or for gifts as your options are grab something at Crate & Barrel or sift through an overwhelming amount of crap at flea markets and random antique stores. Now I have nothing against Crate & Barrel, I go there often. However, if you are looking for a unique object to display or give, you likely won't find it there. I'm also one who likes to find treasures in unlikely places, but I generally don't have the time or the patience to dig.

This is where an antique dealer comes in handy. You have to be careful when choosing a dealer so often antique and antiquity dealers try to sell stolen items. Some also claim to be dealers with no credentials or background in the field. It's important to ask questions and get to know the dealer you are working with before purchasing items. Look for an 'about me' section of their website. Email or call the dealer to ask them about their education and experience. Ask which associations they belong to and ask where they source their goods. An honest dealer will be happy to engage with you and will get excited about having a relationship with their client.


One of my favorite dealers is Q Antiques & Design, owned and run by fabulous Kim Ahara. Full disclosure: Kim is one of my good friends. This is why I trust her work ethic and can attest to her enthusiasm and expertise.

What's nice about her shop is that a) it is easily accessible online even though she's up in Rhode Island and b) if there is something particular you are looking for, or a collection needing nurturing, she'll do the digging for you. You can trust that her objects are obtained in ethical ways and that she prices them fairly. She sums up her mission so much better than I ever could:

WHY Q ANTIQUES & DESIGN?

Because objects tell terrific stories that make us ALL smarter, more interesting and attractive.
Because people should be able to AFFORD museum-quality objects and we make this possible.
Because we believe in USING great objects in day-to-day life.

Because good design is tasteful AND timeless.
Because everything does not have to MATCH!

Because antiques are GREEN and good for the planet. Re-imagine, re-purpose, reinvent, reanimate!
Because COLOR is cool.

Because a fusion of antique + modern is CONTEMPORARY.
Because we are merely the custodians of historically significant, FABULOUS objects.

If you are looking for beautiful objects for your home, then I recommend heading her way. Here are some of my favorite goodies from her shop:

photo courtesy of Q Antiques and Design, Chris Thompson Photography, 2011

photo courtesy of Q Antiques and Design, Chris Thompson Photography, 2011

 photo courtesy of Q Antiques and Design

 

photo courtesy of Q Antiques and Design, Chris Thompson Photography, 2011

And when you do check out her shop, you must read about the Ancestors Gallery! It's hilarious...

Review: Leopold's Ice Cream, Savannah, GA

I'm going to go ahead and say, this ice cream is freakin' delicious. Just look at that chocolate goodness dripping over the side of that tiny cup. Look at the mountain of perfection perched on crunchy cone. Can you imagine how cold and creamy it is? Can you imagine the delight of the first bite? And the disappointment of the last? Can you imagine that I ordered the tiny cup thinking I would just enjoy a taste? Can you imagine that I tried to eat Gman's and our companions' ice cream too? I almost hurt myself trying to get more of this most tasty treat...

Destination: a year of travels

I'm still in shock that it will be 2012 in only a few short days. This year flew by! Not only was it full of exciting travel destinations - Paris, Florida, Seattle, to name a few - but also unforgettable memories, happy and heartbreaking, and a life changing move from New York City to Washington D.C.

I'm also still in shock that it has been a year since I started writing this blog. It is a project I have wanted to start for a few years now without knowing exactly how to begin or what creative direction to take. I've been saving up journals, scrap notes, and snapping pictures for a long time without a specific path in mind. It has been wonderfully challenging to develop stories from my trips and way to fun coming up with wardrobe inspirations. I have enjoyed exploring wine and food with you and I can't wait to dig deeper into art and art history.

Writing has been a journey too. Having an outlet for my passions has only deepened my drive to pursue them with wreakless abandon.

Thank you for your support and encouraging feedback throughout the year. Every time I hangout with friends and family and someone says, "I read your blog!" my heart feels simultaneously joyful and humbled. 

So for this week's destination, I want to take a trip down memory lane. Here's where we went in 2011:

Hudson River Valley, NY {and again here}
Montauk, NY
New York, NY {we explored NYC a lot...}
Gettysburg, PA
Key West, FL
Sanibel Island, FL
Sarasota, FL
Gainesville, FL
Seattle, WA and Mount Rainier
Paris, France
Dublin, Ireland and Glendalough
The Bahamas
Washington D.C. {and here too}

And my road trip honeymoon with Gman to Boston, Nantucket, Bar Harbor, Lake Willoughby, and of course the legendary camping trip.

I'm already planning more excursions this year and can not wait to share them with you. Gman and I are driving up to Savannah for New Year's so after a bit of Shoe Love tomorrow, I'll be taking a short break to check it out and catch up with friends.

Best New Year's wishes to your and yours!

xoxo Jamie

Wardrobe: Game Day {after the glory years}

Jeans, Blouse, Necklace, Bracelet, Bangle, Watch, Pumps, Bag

Last weekend my girlfriends and I {and Gman too!} went to watch the Gators play at our local UF Alumni Bar. During the game, there was group of girls sitting across the table from us. They kept looking over at us and we kept looking over at them. Under normal circumstances, I would have assumed they were being judgemental or territorial. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. We've all seen how women act in bars. But then finally in the third quarter their guy friend leaned over to my friend Tammy and said, "she wants me to tell you she loves your top." She leaned over and said, "tell her I love her necklace." At this point all walls were dropped and we all leaned across the table complimenting each other and deliberating the issue of dressing to support the team but also for going out after and how to incorporate a little Gator Pride in our everyday clothes.

I was glad to know I wasn't the only one with this issue. On super casual days I'm happy to wear my favorite Gator T-shirt and some jeans {or jorts!} but what about when I need to be dressed up? Or when its cold out?

Here is my Game Day for Alumni ensemble, inspired by Tammy and her fab orange silk blouse! Cheers!

My Happy Place

Whenever I'm feeling down, uninspired, tired, frustrated, preoccupied... I find that seeing art always brings me back to life. I have had a seriously difficult week so its lucky that I live down the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I go there often to refresh my state of mind. When I am traveling I do the same. I love stopping off in an art museum and perusing local galleries. One gets a sense of a country's pride and priorities through their art and cultural preservation. I love to see what is important to people through time and in different parts of the world. It makes me feel connected and comforted.

It would be impossible to see the breadth of the Met's collection in one day or even a week. So as with many museums, I go to see one or two exhibits per visit. This time I went straight to some of my favorites: Greek and Roman Antiquities and Impressionists and Modern Paintings and Sculpture. I was in many an Ancient Greek art class in college and I continue to be intrigued by the detail oriented, thoughtful craftsmanship of each piece.

On the way to the Impressionist wing I strolled past these lovely Qing Dynasty vases. I would love to take them home!

I also took a detour on the way to the Impressionists exhibit when I discovered a special photography exhibition, Stieglitz, Steichen, Strand. Their photography exemplifies the early 20th century experiments in the new medium. I am always fascinated by that time period. It's revealing to see what they choose to capture on film and the people are captivating. I was so captivated, in fact, I didn't take any photos of the exhibit, but I recommend you see it if you can!

Once in the Impressionist wing I ran into one of my favorite Rodin sculptures. It epitomizes the sensuous humanity of art that makes me fall in love again and again. Not only is the subject's pose sensual but you can see touch of the artist's hand through the medium as he explored it.

And last but not least, Monet's ever awe inspiring Waterlilies. This particular version was made during WWI and you can see the violence and anxiety he was experiencing through his brushstrokes. This resonated with me as I struggle with my own pain and sorrow...