I try to make it back to New York at least once a year, usually for events, this time my epic High School reunion. I often travel solo but this time my companion was my nine-year-old. There was so much I wanted to share with him and narrowing down our plans was painful…and true to how I roll, the best things happened serendipitously.

We walked by the West 4th Street Courts just a block from my mom’s apartment, a famous spot where Lew Alcindor played before becoming the great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, an iconic public court where legions of other basketball greats have shot hoops over the years. Tucked in the the back are handball courts — I had forgotten about the New York obsession with the game. A tiny pinky ball, perhaps a glove and a wall, that’s all that’s needed. The sport, now called “American Handball”, is a big draw for beach goers, but as I traveled the city I was surprised to see so many courts in every borough. My son was fascinated and wanted to play. A player at W. 4 Street let him on the court to give it a try and he was smitten. The guy even gave him a ball — I LOVE NY.

He promptly lost it and I promised to buy him a ball and play with him, as I have fond memories of playing at Jones Beach, Florida and around town as a kid. In fact, we used to just play against the wall next to my mom’s apartment, which is now a a deluxe condo.

We didn’t seem to pass any sporting goods stores and the Woolworths and Lamstons of my youth have been taken over by Duane Reade drugstores and Chase Bank buildings. So the next day, as we came up from the subway, I decided, on a whim, to see if the local newsstand next to the courts might, per chance, sell them. I’m not sure what inspired me to think that was possible, but for two-dollars, the kid got a handball and thus the highlight of his trip began. We checked out a few courts and he carried his ball with him each day.

A visit to Coney Island with the cousins and a glorious walk on the boardwalk found this handball hotspot in Brighton Beach, perfect with the pink flowers framing the gritty urban court. I reveled in the moment remembering all those years ago, a time when NYC was hurting, crime was out of control and yet people congregated on stoops, listened to music together on boom boxes and the hardcore handball fanatics were part of the pulse of the city.

We stopped at Tatiana’s, a Russian cafe in Brighton Beach. The Nathans of my youth was still recovering from Hurricane Sandy, but after losing everything in the storm, Tatiana’s was up and running again. It felt like we were on the Black Sea or somewhere in Europe, not much English spoken and many families out for a Sunday stroll. We parked ourselves in the cafe and ordered strudel and tea and studied the crowd. We were clearly outsiders, despite my part Russian heritage, but once the piping hot tea and scrumptious cherry strudel arrived I was in heaven. The less than stellar Soviet style service was part of the experience. A walk down the High Street of Surf Avenue unveiled more treasures, a terrific little shop where I bought Armenian sour cherry jam, Hungarian salami and the Russian bread I love. On the street, a vendor sold what looked like Russian pirozhki, but when I tried to confirm the name I was met with much sourness. We bought cabbage, pork, spinach and cherry; it’s great how the sweet and savory co-mingle. They were a tad greasy, but for $1.50 each was a meal.

We climbed onto the elevated subway track laden with our purchases as the stunning spring light made the grimiest steel sparkle. The ride back was quick and edifying. I was captivated by the multi-ethnic faces and so many languages filling the car. It made me want to move back to New York.

I have so many summer memories of family boardwalk strolls, noshing on knishes in Brighton Beach, soft serve, sand between the toes and sweat mixed with sunscreen dripping in my eyes.

The boardwalks of my childhood were the bar, the town square, and the place where young and old, beach bunnies and schmata wearing grannies, could congregate. There were rides, games, sweet and savory treats and no sense of time. AND yes, I always got splinters, because I never wore my flip-flops (as my parents suggested) and sadly, more often than not, I returned home with a sunburn that I regret today.

It is that intangible sense of freedom, community and unvarnished leisure time that the boardwalk connotes that will be resurrected, despite rising seas and superstorms!

Clearly, visiting struggling countries helps to boost their economy. For a place like Greece, it might well be how they can dig out of such a deep hole, promoting all that is so appealing when life for locals is so hard. So, when I read a recent New York Times article entitled “The Country Beckons Spaniards as Jobs in Cities Grow Scarce,” it was interesting to think about how long periods of strife can dramatically change the travel landscape.

I remember rolling in to sleepy Spanish villages, practically drunk on olives and olive oil and even sleeping under an olive tree one hot day. The small towns, just awakening from years under Franco, were still very old world, so authentic and charming. Spain of course has modernized quickly over the last 20 or so years, but much of the growth was isolated in the big cities and towns.

With jobs so scarce and the cost of living so high in cities like Madrid and Barcelona, many folks are moving back to the countryside and taking with them all their urban skills, savvy, appetite and spirit. The populations of many cities are shrinking, and conversely, the small towns are growing, blossoming with artists, entrepreneurs, new farmers and even circus performers!

So if you’re headed to Spain, after you have been to the Prado Museum, walked Las Ramblas and soaked in some Spanish urban culture, head to the smaller towns to savor the old world flavor or relish the new life! Triporati has more than 50 destinations in Spain to discover!

Westbrook is a quaint shoreline community snug on the banks of Long Island Sound between New London and New Haven, right next door to the better-known Old Saybrook. I didn’t know the classmate too well and was thrust back into the college mode of ride-negotiating and flexible travel plans, as the friend I was traveling with was his old friend. Nonetheless, the plan was appealing, and a nice way to glide into the unknown of a big college reunion. Having lived in California for many years, I do often crave that New England spirit and style.

We stopped for lunch in Old Saybrook at a famous haunt called Vanderbooke Bakery, known for its cookies. I, of course, ordered New England clam chowda!  Katherine Hepburn called this seaside town home and much of Main Street seemed like it hadn’t changed in a long time.

We shopped for the BBQ at a few local shops, including an incredibly well stocked liquor store (I always forget you can’t buy wine at supermarkets on much of the East Coast) and headed back to the adorably, un re-done cottage. I loved everything about it, the old-fashioned wall paper, the yellowing board games from another era, the bathroom off the back door of the kitchen, the wrap-around porch and hammock and the view of the Sound. The generations of memories were palpable.

We prepped our feast and took off for a walk on the beach. The house had been in my classmate’s family for years, he had spent summers there as a child and now brings his own kids. He was gracious to share it with me, such a tangential friend. Bunnies hopped on lawns and so many of my own childhood, New England memories were rekindled. There was something about the lushness, the smell of the Sound, the very different architecture and genuine poignancy about keeping things modest and authentic. The meal was delectable, the wine divine, the conversations flowed, and within three hours we all felt like old friends. We scrambled to make it to our college campus before check-in ended at 10 p.m. I felt completely ready for what was to come.

If you’re looking for a getaway, outdoor fun, sun, and maybe some wine tasting, the small town of Los Gatos is a great choice. Set in the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains, this affluent hamlet, with a Victorian downtown, is a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of urban living. As you drive into town, you pass Netflix headquarters, and you realize, this is perhaps where the 1% live, a notion that was confirmed at the stylish Purple Onion Café, where at 10 a.m., the place was hopping with expensively clad moms chatting and nibbling, post workout. The Illy coffee and yummy breakfast items made with cage-free eggs, local produce, and freshly baked whole-grain breads were tantalizing.

For lunch, a traditional Irish pub with Americanized pub grub, was a more down home option. C.B. Hannegan’s was bustling with business folks and families; the outdoor garden was so pleasant and portions big enough to share. The beer choices were impressive and International, with 15 on draught.

Another must dine spot, great if you’re on your way to Santa Cruz, is The Cats Restaurant and Tavern, just off highway 17. Originally a pit stop on the old stage line, the Cats Roadhouse was once a welcome spot for horse-drawn lumber wagons on their way to San Jose, as well as a rowdy social club for locals.  In the Roaring 20s, the Cats was one of the area’s most notorious speakeasies and bordellos! Renovated and reopened in 2008, the menu still features BBQ favorites and is certainly a crowd pleaser after a day at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk or hiking the mountains!

Camping options abound. Two of my favorites are Big Basin Redwoods State Park and Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. It can get cold under the redwoods, so pack accordingly!

Finally, if you want to splurge, a stay at the Mediterranean boutique hotel and spa, Hotel Los Gatos, is quite a treat. The pool is small but with mosaic tiles and an ample hot tub, a perfect spot early morning, midday or at night for a dip and soak. The hotel has a Moorish feel mixed with California Mission, and the rooms were luxurious but in a cozy way.

Mediterranean food is one of my favorite cuisines, and I have to say since I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area nearly 20 years ago I have been on a constant hunt for Greek Cuisine from high-end to gyros. Dio Deka, fine Hellenic cuisine, really lived up to its Michelin Star hype. The food, ambiance, presentation and service were really top notch, from the marinated kalamata olives in chili and rosemary to the spanikopita, pork ribs and these delectable crispy potatoes with smoked roe.

The wine list was overwhelming, but we chose a crisp New Zealand white and sat out, talking and savoring the special tastes, as if we were on the island of Santorini or an Athens plaza. I took a close friend to celebrate a recent triumph, but I could imagine taking my two boys there, all rumpled in their “fancy” clothes, perhaps for a special occasion. Luckily there are plenty of tapas-like options I think many older kids would appreciate, if your budget allows.

All in all, if you’re looking for a staycation in the Bay Area, a romantic getaway, a taste of “Peninsula living” or an overnight splurge, the combination of great food and wine, ample hiking and biking spots and wineries galore, make a trip to Los Gatos, the Cat’s Meow!

“Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average…which means, you have met your New Year’s resolution.”

As Americans waistlines expand, there are so many ripple effects. From healthcare to clothing, design considerations to travel safety, more personal bulk means changing laws, rules and preconceived notions. I have heard sad tales of folks unable to squeeze into rides at Amusement Parks, being banned from bungee jumping, even forced to purchase two plane tickets because of size. That doesn’t even take into account self limitations because of shame or inability to maneuver. But, what about weight limits for boats, buses and other vehicles? More and more, places and companies are upping the average weight limit per person.

In the mid-twentieth century, 160 pounds was allotted per person, taking into account the portly and stocky, and on the flip side, children and the svelte. Fast forward to 2012 and the average American weighs 185 pounds. This has huge repercussions for everything from city buses and ferries, to small private fishing boat operators. According to a story in the New York Times today, the fleet of Washington state ferries are reducing the number of passengers allowed on each boat. Private vessel operators are also looking at reduced revenue because of Coast Guard rules that are popping up around the country. Even the Circle Line in NYC has been affected, although they prefer smaller loads to offer more comfort and ease of movement.

Many newly-designed public space seats are “banquettes” without arm rests to accommodate the larger backsides. Certainly the tiny divets, for bottoms are being rethought on many mass transit upgrades. This is not isolated to the U.S., as countries around the globe struggle with fat stigma and the consequences of the global obesity epidemic.

No one is actually suggesting weighing passengers, but it’s certainly food for thought as we all take stock of what we ate over the holidays and consider our New Year’s resolutions to slim down.

We drove through Yosemite a few weekends ago. It was packed with summer travelers and waterfall gawkers. The major falls are glorious, and fuller than they have been in years. New, smaller falls have even appeared much to the delight of park goers.

As we drove through the park, out past Mono Lake, we were stunned by the high water levels and snowy peaks in early July. We laughed, thinking that we could even cross-country ski in some spots above 7000 feet.

Record snowfalls this winter and heavy unseasonable rain in summer have made conditions epic for nature lovers but also hazardous.

Yosemite is drawing crowds, and visitors to the park should exercise caution while viewing the many falls and swollen creeks and rivers. Since June, there have been at least two people confirmed dead and two missing and presumed dead. The park has banned water rafting on the Merced River until the flows subside to their normal levels.

My son and a group of friends made the trek to Wapama Falls, a wonderful hike which wraps around the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The photos were astounding, but just days later a Doctor and a friend, both experienced backpackers, were swept away by the torrents when crossing a small footbridge.  Sobering for the folks who took my son, who in hindsight, were fearful of the awesome cascade.

As we made our way back to the Sierras, we stayed at a friend’s house near Kirkwood Ski Resort. I took a short walk, alone, down to the “creek,” heretofore a tiny trickle, where as toddlers, my kids frolicked. At nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, the mule ears were just sprouting and snow patches still remained in early July. I decided to cross the creek and make a circle. Quickly I aborted my attempt. This repeated several times as the current was just too treacherous. I realized I was on my own and if swept away, it would not be a good scene.  I finally found a reasonable crossing point, and with numb legs and feet, made my way to the other side. Not only is the water higher, but it felt colder.

A recent article by Jane Brody in the New York Times Science section offers simple, but useful tips for both beach and mountain water fun. So get out and enjoy the majesty, but respect the elements and have caution!

Since 1997 she’s worked to conserve Crete’s cultural and natural heritage through her own version of a slow food movement, engaging more than 40 small business and individuals in “Crete’s Culinary Sanctuaries” to offer visitors a taste of traditional Cretan cuisine. Ingredients come from local organic farms, and chefs put a modern twist on the old cuisine so there’s always a tasty surprise.

Her programs have received sustainable development awards from the likes of National Geographic, and she’s booking tours for the summer. Visit artisan food producers, organic farmers, rural communities that have been inhabited for 4,000 years, and take botanical hikes in the land of the Minoans. Explore ancient sites, too.

And of course, eat well.

100 miles north of San Francisco, the drive takes a good three hours if you take time to gawk at the Oscar winning coastline. We often stop in Bodega Bay for a fish and chips or clam chowder lunch to break up the drive. This time, my seven-year-old discovered he gets carsick, and if you are prone to motion sickness this drive will surely bring it on.

Sea Ranch was a pioneering eco-community begun in the late ’60s and early ’70s. The connection between the landscape and the architecture is beautiful and certainly contributes to the serenity of the place. I dislike gated communities or housing developments in general, but this place really has captured the benefits of a uniform style with strong community ethos. The sometimes simple, sometimes elaborate wood-frame structures were inspired by the local ranches and are designed to cope with the weather and integrate well with the topography.

We were invited to a beautiful rental house with our friends and planned a feast of a menu; after all, you work up an appetite strolling along the rugged coast. Our friends always insist on renting a house with a hot tub with a view of the sea and I must say, taking a dip with my morning coffee in tow before the kids awoke was a simple pleasure I won’t soon forget. This particular house was perched on the cliffs, and waking up to the Pacific Ocean view does wonders for the soul and spirit. When you add a roaring fire and a cocktail at sunset into the mix, then you’re really talking relaxation.

We brought bikes, yoga mats, board games, books and baking projects and we all read a ton! I switched between Patti Smith’s Just Kids and reading my little one The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which we found on the bookshelf.

This house was owned by a writer and the bookshelves were organized and labeled like a library; a nice touch. Like the book, where the Little Prince famously asks the Aviator to draw him a sheep, a flock of sheep is used at Sea Ranch to keep grass cut low to the ground to reduce the threat of fire during the summer months. It was a tender moment when we made that connection.

There is an elegant pool that is kept heated in the winter. Very few folks braved the cold weather to take a dip, but a dry sauna made the pool all the more enticing, particularly after an invigorating bike ride against the wind. With seals basking on the rocks along the coast and clear crisp February weather, one of the best moments was making a driftwood fort on the beach.

Prices on rentals range about $200-$500 a night depending on location, size and amenities. It is a perfect venue for family reunions, romantic getaways or multi-family trips. Even in the rain or mist, Sea Ranch is a great place to unwind.

On a gloriously, sunny crisp clear day in SF, I started wading through our snow gear in preparation for a school snow trip to the Sierras. It must be mentioned that keeping snow gear up to date for growing kids is tricky, but I think I’ve got it all sorted and labeled. All this talk of snow and winter got me thinking about my own winter bucket list, winter adventures high on my “to do” agenda.

When most of the country is dreaming of beaches and sun, I’m dreaming of the white stuff. I love snow and all the fun one can have outdoors when the temperature drops and precipitation turns to flakes. Three unusual activities came to mind. One, visiting Sweden’s Ice Hotel, but I already posted about that one.

The second, skating Holland’s many canals has been a lifelong dream. Inspired by Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates, skating the canals has become a rarity due to pollution and climate change. 2009 was a big year for canal skating and many Dutch citizens rediscovered their soul when they strapped on their skates two winters ago.

The Dutch are famous for their speed skating prowess, but many races take place in other Nordic countries. Tour Skating, a sport and recreational form of long distance ice-skating on natural ice, has grown in popularity.  The idea of packing a lunch and skating 10 miles, or maybe skating to a cozy restaurant with my family or a group of friends, just sounds tantalizing.

When the canals froze in 2009, cafes popped up and benches were added, so that old and young, fit and game, all who wanted could take to the ice.  Emergency rooms did see a tremendous uptick in fractures and bruises, but most would agree the amazing community spirit and fun is worth the risk! Here’s a well produced video that will get you in the mood for the 2011 season.

The third winter fantasy is all about maple syrup. I grew up in New England and I’m not sure why I never went maple sugaring but I definitely am planning to do it soon. I just bought some the other day and boy it is liquid gold!

March brings the maple-sugaring season to most of New England. Tasting the sugar straight from the trees sounds divine, but is best done with expert guidance. There are a number of “houses” that offer tours in Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire as well as other parts of New England. The maple-tapping season depends upon freezing temperatures and warmer days causing maple sap to flow. When planning a visit to the Northeast to tour sugar shacks processing maple syrup, plan on the first full weekend in March.