Google Maps insisted that I was close, but I didn’t believe it. To be honest, I never believe the GPS. I often find myself arguing with the screen on my dashboard, second-guessing its suggestion to take a back street to save a mere two minutes. But this time, I reluctantly followed its instructions because I had no idea where I was in this very affluent and lush D.C. neighborhood.
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On the second day of June, I was celebrating the first day of Pride in (arguably) the gayest town in New England. I fully expected the streets to be flooded with glitter, but all I saw were gym bros gripping their girlfriends’ hands, taking up all of the sidewalk space as they marched two-by-two under rainbow flags.
Where were the homosexuals, you ask?
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It’s been a year. Three hundred and sixty-five days since I chomped down on a fish cutter. This wasn’t my first time having a fish sandwich in Barbados, but this particular sandwich from Caboose tapped into tastebuds I didn’t know I had.
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In the hilly neighborhood of Sleepy Hollow, New York, you’ll never find parking, but you will absolutely find the freshest Cuban croquetas on this side of the Hudson River.
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Taking a Cuban on a tour of DC’s recognizable monuments and memorials? Pump up their ego by taking them to the Cuban American Friendship Urn. You’ll find it in Parking Lot A, under the overpass of 395, a mere blocks away from the Jefferson Memorial. Don’t worry, a real Cuban will not be deflated by its location, but may ask you to crop out the line of parked cars in the background.
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As a fan of the show Portlandia, Oregon’s largest city inevitably crept up on my travel list. I allotted a weekend to explore the city and a few gardens, before continuing on my Pacific Northwest road trip. Even though I packed in as much as possible, I still felt like I missed out.
If you’re short on time, but want to see the very best of Portland, here are a few places to start:
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New Orleans has some incredible homes, especially Uptown in the Garden District. And what say you about those French Quarter homes renovated by businessman Sidney Torres? Ridiculously nice. Some locals would say that the most exclusive real estate is a final resting spot in Metairie Cemetery. But for me, it’s a mansion and gardens in the outskirts of New Orleans called, Longue Vue.
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Apologies for the pun.
As a long-time fan of the television show, Golden Girls, Sicily was at the top of my travel list even before I officially formulated a travel list. From a young age, my favorite way to start a story was, “Picture it, Sicily, 1922…” the same way the acerbic matriarch Sophia prefaced hers.
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Approximately 11.5 miles northeast of Los Angeles is one of my most favorite places in Southern California: The Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens. Encompassing 207 acres of land in the San Gabriel Valley, it is an Olympic feat to see it all in one day.
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On your travels throughout the Mediterranean, you will undoubtedly come across a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Italy alone is home to the most places with that designation at 58, and Spain and France are close behind with 49 and 48, respectively. The icons, like the historic center of Rome, the works of Antoni Gaudí in Barcelona, and the Acropolis in Athens only begin to scratch the surface of the treasures this region holds. Below are four destinations where you can explore UNESCO Sites that may not be as well-known as their aforementioned siblings, but are awe-inspiring nonetheless and play an equally important role in preserving our shared history.
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I spent the Christmas holidays strolling through SoHo, hailing cabs on Broadway and taking in the elaborate window displays down 5th Avenue. It was the eve of the New Year and the new decade, and I was feeling hopeful about what 2020 would bring. I was also feeling particularly proud of myself for having cleverly paired my New York trip with a quick jaunt to Bermuda. Culminating my vacation with my feet covered in pink sand was the gift I was most eager to unwrap.
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The term Isleña, meaning island girl in Spanish, is what we call my grandmother. A term of endearment exclaimed whenever she walks in the door. ¡Llegó la isleña! (The island girl is here!) I grew up thinking it was a reference to our Cuban heritage, but when I became more inquisitive about our family’s lineage, I discovered that her nickname was a tribute to her Canary Island roots. Her father emigrated to Cuba from Santa Cruz de Tenerife and the nickname, along with a strong emotional connection to Spain, was passed down to her.
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a little cuban goes a long way 