We are headed to a house, inaccessible by road in winter. Set on 100 acres of land, the generosity of the owners allows us to live out my alpine fantasies.  We snowshoe or ski one mile into the house, carrying backpacks and pulling a sled full of all our gear, food and an occasional small child.

As I write, a few loaves of Swedish bread are in the oven baking for the trip. Thoughts of chopping down our own Christmas tree and frying latkes for Chanukah at altitude dance in my head.

My mind wanders to a book I just read my youngest son. Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame, is a classic. Even though I read it as a child, and was a big fan of the TV show in my youth, reading it aloud to my son was inspiring all over again. To live off the land, reap what you sow, eat with the seasons and really earn your keep has a lot of appeal these days. Even though we’re going off the grid, it will be far less arduous than what the Ingalls and Wilder families experienced more than 150 years ago.

If, like me, you are taken with the books and history of the time, you can visit the Wilder Homestead (boyhood home of Almanzo, Laura’s future husband) in Malone, NY, near the Canadian border. One winter scene, from the book, sticks in my mind… as the young boy, his father and two hired men cut ice from the frozen lake to store and keep food fresh for the year. They literally cut thick blocks of ice from the surface of the lake and haul them back to the shed on sleds. Almanzo falls in accidentally and narrowly escapes death.

The blizzards described in the book series sound so epic. As I read this book I wondered if winters in the Upstate region are still as harsh, given climate change. This is a photo of pond hockey in the Lake Placid region.

Recent articles in the New York Times speak of fir and spruce trees dying out in the Catskills, apple orchard varieties diminished and less productive dairy farms in the region.

The Adirondacks — host to two winter Olympics — in the future, may not be the winter paradise they once were, as snow and ice have become less intense during the winter months. Lake Champlain, a popular vacation spot that divides New York and Vermont, used to freeze over completely every winter. Now, some years, milder winters keep it unfrozen in the middle. Flooding from the August tropical storm Irene was a harbinger of things to come.

Despite all of this depressing information, and news that our destination in the Sierras has very little snow as of today, makes me wistful… but come hell or high water, I plan to live out my winter wonderland fantasy nonetheless.

A recent cameo in Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris reminded me of my rushed trip to Giverny many years ago. I traipsed through the garden taking in the amazing palette of colors, the pinks and yellows, fuchsias, purples and oranges. How could one NOT love the feast for the senses?

The next day I visited the Orangerie Museum in Paris where the famous water lily paintings are featured. This combo makes for a nice pairing.  There are currently a few tours in Paris which focus on the many sights featured in Allen’s latest movie. The Paris Underbelly - Midnight in Paris Tour will set you back about $100, depending on the length of the tour.

According to a recent article in the New York Times, the garden (which is open to the public seven months a year and attracted more than half a million visitors in 2010) has a new head gardener. James Priest, has just taken over the reigns of perhaps the world’s most well-known cultivated plot. Mr. Priest is an Englishman, although he has lived in France for 30 years and is married to a Frenchwoman. Some say the garden has more of an English flavor, a wildness and lack of order, but Priest sidesteps the tempest in a teapot over an Anglo running a quintessentially French garden.

The French and the British love to kid each other, naming certain things as “French” or “Anglaise” to connote a distaste. A condom, for example in France is called a “capote anglaise,” whereas in England it is often referred to as a “French letter.”  For his part, Priest feels the garden is beyond French or English and prefers to think of Monet’s Giverny as an artist’s garden.

It’s a demanding job, regardless of the head gardener’s country of origin, and Mr. Priest plans to rely heavily on the wisdom and experience of the gardeners who have been tending Giverny for decades. In his day, Monet could pick and choose what to paint and keep things in bloom at various stages. Today, with so many visitors, the task is to keep the garden picture perfect all the time.

I had been itching to take the kids to the Tech Museum and my husband and I were intrigued by the Art Museum, so we decided to book a hotel room overnight and make a festive trip out of it between Christmas and New Year’s.

It had been raining for nearly two weeks, so we also had visions of a great hike if the skies cleared up. I called a close Cuban-American friend who knows San Jose well and happens to be a foodie. He was on it, and within half an hour recommended three eateries in the area, so I felt ready to go.

Just an hour or so south of San Francisco, San Jose these days is known as the heart of Silicon Valley.

We booked a room at the Hotel Valencia Santana Row, a chic contemporary hotel set amidst a European style pedestrian shopping street. The hotel was a block away from The Winchester Mystery House, a somewhat lost in time, local tourist attraction that seemed a bit cheesy and overpriced for our taste. I was worried that Santana Row might be a Disney-esque version of a European Pedestrian district but it was actually quite stylish, and all decked out for the holidays. Since our trip was short and specific, I had to resist my shopping urges, but many appealing stores beckoned me.

The hotel was slick and comfortable,  and my kids remarked on the leather pillows as we entered our room overlooking the patio. It’s fun to splurge for a night, close to home, on occasion. Despite the torrential downpour we made it to the pool and hot tub twice. Actually, my favorite time to soak and swim is when it’s cold, dark and rainy. The pool area had a Mediterranean feel and the outdoor shower was a nice touch. The little fitness room was much appreciated and we took advantage of it, making the most of our getaway.

In the evening, the patio looked welcoming with fire pits and a fountain in the center, but it was just too wet and cold for a nightcap. Instead, we tucked in and watched the Kennedy Center Honors on TV.

The San Jose Tech Museum is a must-see and we spent hours exploring the two floors of exhibits. The hands on, kid friendly stations were a big hit with my budding techies. My youngest son, aged 7, joined a group with a mock digestion project, simulating the route our food takes through our bodies. My older son designed a terrifying roller coaster circuit and both kids were mesmerized by a robot-artist working non-stop. We all wound up with portraits of ourselves after waiting in line with other bedraggled parents for what seemed like an hour.

The rain had pummeled the holiday display in the park and the holiday skating rink struck me as a rip-off at $15 a pop. Once we realized a soggy hike was not even possible, we headed for the San Jose Museum of Art and were really pleased with our choice. The museum was manageable, light and the staff super helpful. Two shows on view during our trip interested all four of us with lots of interactive features. The kids loved the gallery in the basement where they could build with legos, cards and blocks.

Lunch was at a local Coffee Shop called Flames, which had the feel of a real California diner from the ’50s or ’60s. My foodie friend had recommended Habana Cuba as one of his favorites and we had to agree. The food was really authentic and the kids’ menu made me so happy I wrote a review for a kids’ nutrition site called Well Kiddos. The pork melted in our mouths and the mojito was perfectly not too sweet. We also noshed at Race Street Fish Market, which seemed like a local institution. I’m not much for entirely fried meals but it was worth the sacrifice since all my boys are fish and chips monsters and I could get a broiled piece of fish. It was fun watching the crowd, only one hour from SF, but a world away.

Full of food, art and technology, we headed back home, thoroughly pleased with our mini-sojourn. It was just enough of a getaway to break up the long winter vacation and the waterlogged weather.

Getting sucked into a series of books can be a marvelous experience. You become so invested, almost intimate with the characters. Much to my surprise, I am completely taken by Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy and have been burning the midnight oil as I gallop through the three books. I keep putting the reins on my reading because I don’t want it to end.

This summer, on a trip to the Pacific Northwest’s Olympic Peninsula, I insisted we take a 50-mile detour to visit Forks, Washington, home of the Twilight saga. Twilight is a series of four vampire, teen romance novels by Stephenie Meyer. It follows a teenage girl, named Bella, who moves to Forks, Washington and falls in love with a 104-year-old vampire named Edward Cullen.

I have not read any of them and have little interest in the recent wave of vampire chic, but I am interested in the cult fascination of the vampire trend, and thought it might make a fun side trip. If for nothing else, my 11-year-old son has friends who are obsessed with the characters and so I was intrigued.

After much moaning by the three boys in the car, we took the hour-plus trip from Port Townsend to Forks, a sleepy logging town that has become somewhat of a Mecca for Twilighters or Twihards, as they are called.

Let me tell you, this was a mistake. Unless you have a tween daughter or are particularly smitten with the saga, it’s a huge waste of time. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s positive that a little town on the edge has been resuscitated by a literature feeding frenzy, but I didn’t need to waste the gas money. Besides some life-size poster cutouts of Edward and Bella in the surplus store and this hilarious stall for wood bundles cashing in on the sensation, the town isn’t exactly scintillating. I’m sure if I had read the books I would feel differently, but I certainly used up my free pass to make a travel suggestion for the whole family.

If you are a Twihard, there are tours and chotchki shops on the main drag. You can spend the morning hiking in the Olympic National Forest and then make a detour to this two-stoplight town.

Now a trip to Stockholm, Sweden sounds more appealing. I might even be tempted to take a Millennium Trilogy Tour, seeking out all the spots in Stieg Larsson’s mega hit series. The books ooze with Swedish culture. Since reading the books I have baked Swedish bread and grilled my Swedish friends about everything from the incredible caffeine overload the country must experience to trying to keep the Nordic names straight. The tours take visitors around Stockholm to the real and fictional addresses in the books. The tours even make a stop at the 7-11 shop Lisbeth Salander frequents; she seems to live on frozen pizzas.

Interestingly, the global sensation of the trilogy has meant that visits by tourists have spiked whenever books are translated into a new language. The Larsson mystique was amplified by his premature death of a heart attack at age 50, and there is talk that he was mid-way through a fourth novel when he died unexpectedly. Swedish tourism officials have said the fans of the trilogy, along with the royal wedding this summer, have put Stockholm in the limelight and increased tourism traffic.

If you are interested, there are English language tours, tickets cost about 120 Swedish kronor or about $18-$20. Lisbeth and Blomqvist groupies can also purchase a map of the tour’s route for 40 kronor, about $6, at the Stockholm City Museum or the Stockholm Tourist Center.

I was visiting my good friend and her family recently and they decided to take me on a bike ride on the stellar Norwottuck Bike Trail, a 9.5-mile path linking Northampton, Hadley, and Amherst.  Norwottuck, the Native American name for Northampton means the midst of the river.

We set out on a humid day, ready for a mellow ride, their house was just a block from the entrance to the trail which made departure easy. Living in San Francisco, I’m unused to flat trails and enjoyed the fast and smooth ride and the natural breeze given the weather. Crossing an old train bridge was novel, and with a view of the river it made a perfect rest point and photo op. We passed families, dog walkers, folks of all shapes and sizes enjoying being out  and active.

Our journey took us to Hadley where we climbed the dike to the Connecticut River, wildflowers hugging the shore and kayakers paddling in the distance. I was surprised by the huge display of American flags covering the Colonial Houses. It was Memorial Day weekend, but I had assumed that the lefty politics of the area would preclude ostentatious displays of Americana patriotism. Apparently, though, Amherst has a large military population.

It was asparagus season, and I bought a bunch of asparagus grass to bring back to my mom in NYC. I loved the sign on the stand and the honor system of payment.

On the way back, we stopped at a trendy Woodstar Cafe in Northampton. My friends bumped into loads of their friends and colleagues, as I relished the superb coffee. We returned home and soon thereafter I hopped on Amtrak with my bundle of asparagus headed for the Big Apple. Over the years I have written stories about Rails to Trails in Washington DC, Monterey, CA and Boston, it was satisfying to finally enjoy the benefits of this great program.

The High Line, an elevated garden built on an old freight railroad line, runs through Chelsea and the Meat Packing district, which, like most of Manhattan, is now upscale. When I was growing up, this area was treacherous, true meat packing was going on as well as other nefarious activities. Today, the neighborhood is bustling with fancy shops and the new High Line is a treasure to behold.

Initially built in 1934, the raised tracks fell into disrepair when the last train ran in 1980. Two locals from the neighborhood spearheaded the renovations, and with cooperation and money from the city, the newly renovated High Line opened to the public a year ago. The plantings are wild and yet beautifully landscaped, with gardeners working daily.

My visit on a muggy June day was literally a breath of fresh air. The views of the city are so different, looking down a street from upon high. There are wooden chaise longues to recline and take in some sun, a small café and a new water element under construction.  The day I was there, it was a mix of locals and tourists, lots of moms with strollers…I even caught a glimpse of a butterfly resting on the grasses. There are plans to extend the High Line to 30th Street.

If you are making a visit to NY I highly recommend a trip there and if you are hankering for some nibbles, head to the Chelsea Market nearby where you can find everything from scrumptious lobster bisque to the most outrageous baked treats.

A visit to Mount Vernon on a stormy day launched the dizzying schedule. I opted for a breath of fresh air with a view of the Potomac, a tour of the house and a walk to the farm. George Washington was quite green (which I learned is a term in French that means an older, quite virile man, not ecologically minded) and in his own way farmed and recycled with an eye on the future, employing crop rotation and mulching much of his waste. A lover of rivers, he situated his house so the view from the porch is masterful and remains unmarred.

The Lincoln, Vietnam and the newer WWII Memorial were next.  I had wanted to visit the Vietnam Memorial for years, and memories of the names of the NY tri-state area’s war dead scrolling on the TV News came flooding back. I was so young but not untouched by that war.

One of the best parts of the quick visit was the Hay Adams Hotel, where the group stayed. A famous old hotel, we were charmed to be staying right across the street from the White House.

The Museums of DC are monumental and free. We had two hours only, so I chose the Contemporary wing and buzzed through the permanent collection and Beat Generation photo exhibit and a lovely small Dutch show called “The Little Ice Age” about an 18th century period when a prolonged cold snap kept all the canals in Holland frozen and ice skating reigned supreme. I had just rented the Disney version of Hans Brinker with my two boys so I thought of them and loved the magical paintings.

Three top restaurants fed our massive group in style. We had a wine-filled seafood feast at the Occidental Grill and a whirlwind tour of Union Station as we lunched at B. Smith’s in the train station. The portions, of course, shocked the frogs and you could have fed Congress with what we left over.

A visit to the Capitol was on the schedule and although moving 164 French tourists through the tour was harder than a pre-school class trip, they all seemed enthralled.  We got to see Congress, albeit not in session, and I think we all left with more of an understanding of America’s history and government system. One jokester bought a tiny American Flag and began to wave it unmercifully, a comment on the constant presence of the stars and stripes and the patriotic, sweeping music in the promotional film that was shown on the tour. I explained the flag issues about pin wearing during the election and how much Americans cling to/love their flag. They asked if I ever wore a flag pin. I chortled, saying the only time I ever wore red white and blue on purpose was to celebrate the Bicentennial in 1976 as a little kid, and they are not my color. Nonetheless a trip to DC does stir some patriotism.

I must return, perhaps for a week, with my kids, I think the perfect age would be at least 9 or 10 years old to really enjoy all that the city has to offer, so it may be a few years before I do DC again.

A few years ago I tromped around the Jungfrau region with friends, basing ourselves in the tidy village of Mürren that clings to a ridge above the Lauterbrunnen Valley with a front-row view of the legendary peaks the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau. A year before that, with young children in tow, my father-in-law, wife, and I trekked the trails out of Grindelwald in the shadow of the Eiger. Both experiences left me wondering if it could get any better.

As everyone knows, it can always get better. These days I’m dreaming of hiking through the terraced vineyards above Lake Geneva in the Lavaux region between Lausanne and Vevey. No, this isn’t alpine hiking, and the trail I have in mind will take only half a day to complete, but the area is near the top of my list of the world’s most astoundingly beautiful places.

If you want to know the truth, I’ve been dreaming of hiking there since 2003, when I saw it for the first time. I was traveling by train after landing in Zurich with my then-five-year-old daughter, on our way to meet my wife and three-year-old who’d flown into Geneva on a different routing. After a couple of hours of speeding through the rolling countryside, through picture-perfect towns, fields, and forests, we entered a long tunnel. When we emerged, we burst into dazzling light, a whole world of blue from the sky above and the azure expanse of Lake Geneva below, tucked in by a horizon of high mountains. Both my daughter and I were stunned. The transition from dark tunnel to blue radiance was so instantaneous it felt like a blow to the chest.

And then the vineyards appeared: rolling, curving green terraces stepping down the hillsides to the lake, mile after mile, with chateaus dotting the rows of vines. Immediately I wanted to hike there, whether there were trails or not. I needed to make my way into that landscape.

Well, I still do. And will. I’ve put it on the calendar for summer 2011.

But if your 2010 plans are still forming and you have an iPhone, get the new Swiss Hike App from MySwitzerland.com and look at hike #1, Lavaux Vineyard Terraces. That’s the one, from St-Saphorin to Lutry. Or just check out their website for the same information. Maybe I’ll see you there if you wait a year.

My sister moved to Williamsburg, Brooklyn from Manhattan more than 15 years ago. She shared a cute 1BR apartment and paid a fraction of Manhattan rental rates. Ownership of a yoga studio, a marriage, and two kids later, she still lives in Williamsburg, but now in a loft overlooking the Williamsburg Bridge. The area has changed, from a bustling Eastern European immigrant crowd, to hipsters and artists… to hipsters and artists with kids.

I left New York before Williamsburg became one of the cool hotspots, and every time I return I marvel at the reinvention of the neighborhood.

A couple stops on the G train from Manhattan, Williamsburg was first an artist magnet in the 1970s. Drawn by the relatively low rents, large studio spaces and convenient transportation, many moved to the area.  This continued through the 1980s and increased dramatically in the 1990s, as other cool artist havens such as SoHo and the East Village became gentrified. Now, times are tough and trustafarian artists are having to make ends meet in different ways.

Today, Williamsburg is fast becoming the New Williamsburg, as a recent New York Times Style Magazine article boasts. Yes, I’m referring to the 18th century, Colonial Williamsburg. Apparently, folks are harking back to old times and resurrecting forgotten trades such as pickling vegetables, butchering their own pigs, beekeeping, glassblowing and perfume making.

There are still the funky shops, cool bars and gourmet eateries. Bars with great names, such as the Alligator Lounge, Bodega, Cornichon or The Gutter (the first bowling alley to open in Brooklyn in 50 years) dot the cityscape.

One of our favorite spots is a Thai place named Sea, where you can get litchi martinis and let the kids enjoy the coveted giant swings. One hot summer day I took my son to a swanky old restaurant bar and bought him an egg cream. I had gone on and on about how special the beverage  was to me and to Brooklyn lore; he hated it. A classic parental faux pas, but I still remember the cozy ambiance and distinctive hispter Brooklyn vibe in the renovated old joint. 

Galleries, music venues and small designer stores still draw tourists and locals alike, as does the stellar view of Manhattan. The best comparison to  Williamsburg, Virginia, however, is perhaps in the facial hair.  If you squint and Photoshop out the saggy pants and iphones, the mutton chops, fanciful mustaches, goatees and sideburns of the locals scream blacksmith from the 1780s!

Set to take place from June 11th to July 11th, this World Cup marks the first time that the tournament will be hosted by an African nation.

Despite concerns about infrastructure, construction, crime and controversies over forced eviction of the poor, South Africans and soccer fans alike are getting excited. Alicia Keys, The Black Eyed Peas, John Legend, Shakira, and others are set to perform at the opening ceremonies and global participation in the event is unrivaled, even by the recent Beijing Summer Olympics. Soccer is truly a sport that is played in every corner of the planet.

As an urban soccer mom and surrounded by a crew of international friends, soccer players and fans, I’m definitely looking forward to the tournament. If you are headed to the event from afar, you will probably want to add on to your trip. Wine tasting in the Capelands sounds like a great balance to the hooligan soccer frenzy that Wold Cup play can inspire.

Looking to book a safari? An article in Cookie Magazine, by Sarah Verdone, offers some great suggestions for a family safari. South Africa also has some of the top surfing destinations in the world, just watch out for those Great Whites!

Whether you plan to watch some games in person or are getting ready to watch from your couch or bar stool, get in the mood by checking out all that the destination of South Africa has to offer visitors.