Category: The Americas
SHINE BRIGHT LIKE A DIAMOND
Talk about topical - I've just spend the weekend helping my mother organise her jewellery and helping myself to some bits n' bobs. You're looking at the proud owner of a mother-of-pearl choker which I plan to wear, walk 10km, and mimic an Slowpoke cry in the hope that I'll evolve into Slowking (who else is loving Pokemon Go Gen 2?). Speaking of precious stones, this month's travel blogger linkup topic is "Hidden Gems", which I clearly jumped the gun on with this post back in October: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: 3 Hidden Gems in Petaling Street. No matter! As the sky is full of stars so is the sea brimming with pearls of inspiration, of which I present My 4 Favourite Hidden Gems In Turquoise Seas.
Above: The crystalline waters of Cayo Largo, a Cuban jewel in the Caribbean ocean
March 05, 2017
LIFE IMITATES ART: CINEMATIC MAGIC AT UNIVERSAL STUDIOS FLORIDA
Mine and Luxy's America trip was a whirlwind from start to finish: we began with hectic New York City days from Uptown through Midtown Manhattan before heading Downtown for my birthday, followed by a momentary lull into a deceptively-languid repose in Orlando (must be that sultry, humid Florida weather) where we promptly threw ourselves back into a frenetic pace at Walt Disney World (the walking. So much walking). Somewhere between arriving and departing Orlando are snippets of authentic Americana forever lost to Instagram Stories: snapping up Elizabeth Arden and Kate Spade at Orlando Vineland Premium Outlets! Doing our best Queen Bey impressions over family-sized seafood platters at Red Lobster! Putting on my Homer Simpson voice at IHOP: "So I ask him: If this is the House of Pancakes then why can't I eat the walls?" Waking up early and padding downstairs in my dressing gown to go the gym (the Pokemon Gym, that is - Team Mystic FTW!) by the hotel fountain all while minding the 'Beware of alligators and snakes' signs.
Lake Buena Vista had its moments, fo' sho. And we were going to see out the end of our trip with a big bang. So on our penultimate day, Luxy and I headed to Universal Studios Florida for more thrills (Skull Island: Reign of Kong! Harry Potter and The Forbidden Journey!), more spills (we cooled off from the steaming Florida heat by being dunked in Jurassic Park River Adventure and Popeye & Bluto's Bilge-Rat Barges) and more feels (emotions were abound as we rode the Hogwarts Express from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade). Don't even get me started on how emotional I was to meet a larger-than-life Lisa and Marge Simpson then run amok in Springfield (I wanna go to Mount Splashmore! Take me, take me, take me now! Nownownownownow!).
I didn't even mind that I had to change out of my drenched leather Lacoste trainers into flip flops, nor that Luxy and I didn't get a chance to visit the hundreds of other attractions in Universal Studios Florida because we decided our time was best spent riding Harry Potter and The Forbidden Journey and Jurassic Park River Adventure twice (it really was that good!), although I was kicking myself for missing out on the photo opportunity of posing with a giant Simpsons donut (let's be real, all the bloggers pay $5 not to eat but to take pictures with it) beside Lard Lad. But how can I complain, when I've come full circle? E.T Adventure was every bit as thrilling and magical as I remembered it, when I first rode the ride in Universal Studios California aged 12, and lunch at Hard Rock Cafe was even more kitsch and nostalgic that I'm older (that there was a juiced-up Pokemon Stop outside chock full of Eevees didn't hurt either). It may have taken me 18 years, but I came back for my #UNIVERSALMOMENTS. Here's hoping it won't take me another 18 years to make some more.
#UNIVERSALMOMENTS
SUPPORTED BUT NOT SPONSORED BY UNIVERSAL STUDIOS FLORIDA
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ME, EXCEPT PHOTOS OF MYSELF BY LUXY
September 12, 2016
A MAGIC KINGDOM OF DREAMS & WISHES: WALT DISNEY WORLD ORLANDO
September 09, 2016
HIGH STEAKS AT STK ROOFTOP IN NEW YORK'S MEATPACKING DISTRICT
I didn't even have to cross the Hudson river to get my fill of all things hip, edgy, and forward. Everything about Downtown New York satisfied and silenced the judgemental cool-chaser in this Shoreditch girl (the London equivalent of a Brooklyn Baby) - the East Village bars, the shopping and architecture in SoHo, and of course the seriously stylish evening (and weekend) crowd of the Meatpacking District. Then there was the food, that no amount of Midtown burger joints with dive bar-affectations could compare to - from my quintessentially Manhattan birthday brunch at The Standard Grill to the hearty post-hangover pancake brunch at Bubby's in Tribeca, and of course the decadent meal Luxy and I had at the Meatpacking District outpost of STK Rooftop.
ALL PHOTOS MINE, EXCEPT FOR PHOTO 4 (PRESS IMAGE)
September 02, 2016
DOWNTOWN: THINGS LOOKED UP ONCE WE WERE GOING SOUTH
NYC Photo Diaries Part 2: Downtown Manhattan
NYC was off to a bit of a patchy start, what with Uptown and Midtown Manhattan living up to the city's fabled reputation for being a tease and a breaker of dreams - "Twenty five hundred dollars for a mouldy, curry-scented closet with my very own stoop crackhead? I'll take it!" - but the trip took a turn for the better once Luxy and I headed Downtown. I stuffed my Sephora haul into my suitcase, hopped into a yellow death trap on wheels manned by yet another De Niro-wannabe, and yelled: "Financial District...and step on it!" (before instantly regretting the last three words) then whizzed toward 14th St, only looking back once to bid farewell to The Chrysler building before embarking on the second and better half of our New York adventure.
The moment Luxy and I crossed the threshold and faced the blogger-approved marble and copper stairs of The Conrad, we knew that the second half of our NYC trip was going to be as relaxed as the Financial District was pleasantly serene. And for three good reasons - one: after the disappointment of our Times Square hotel, it was such a breath of fresh air to stay somewhere that actually deserved the accolade of luxury hotel, two: Downtown is far less congested with tourists, and three: the edgy Tribeca, Soho, and Meatpacking districts were much more the vibe of this West London girl in Shoreditch.
And how! I want to regale to you the highlights of NYC Part 2 but that'd imply leaving out the inferior bits, when in fact there wasn't anything about Downtown Manhattan that I didn't love (apart from the sudden downpour on my birthday, but that's not really the city's fault). No moment big nor small was anything less than ERMAHGERD AWESUM - from being surprised with a complimentary glass of champagne at The Balthazar (a tradition reserved for ladies dining solo, apparently) and making friends with two ladies at the next table who then showed up for my birthday the following night at Haus, to the Venusaur I nearly caught in NoLita (it was this big!), the mad taxi-dash club hopping between Haus, Tao Downtown, Sanatorium, Gold Bar (the list goes on...), an amazing dinner at STK Rooftop topped only a much needed 'hangover brunch' at Bubby's in Tribeca, walking the High Line, and of course the industrial-chic vibes of the Meatpacking District.
In New York City, going Downtown and 'going south' are two very different things, it would seem. Behold.
PHOTOS OF ME BY CATHERINE LUX, AS PER USUAL.
August 31, 2016
Uptown Girls (but they're living in a Midtown World) - NYC Photo Diaries Part 1: Uptown & Midtown Manhattan
No amount of Sex and the City, 2 Broke Girls, nor Gossip Girl* marathons is enough to prepare this Asian native-turned European expat's first time (in adult memory - my only memory from the last time I visited NYC was 7 year old me in Chelsea, declaring to my parents: "I want to be gay!" "Why is that, sweetie?" "Because rainbow flags are gay and I like rainbows!") for the mythical creature that is New York City. One pieces together bits of anecdotes and literature** and builds a tableau vivant almost guaranteed to disappoint, if previous expectations of, well, everything, are anything to go by: Is this concrete jungle truly where dreams are made of? Or will expectations fall flat like a forgotten cream cheese bagel on the subway tracks?
Yes and No. Midtown was both the hot mess I expected (yet Times Square was not nearly as chaotic as fiction would have you believe - try navigating Piccadilly Circus during rush hour carrying a family-sized box of Cinnabon with your Oyster Card nestled between your chin and neck, then come back and tell me what hectic is), our "luxury" hotel appeared to have spent all their budget on first impressions (edgy, design-led lobby) but couldn't be bothered with the rooms (chipped bathroom mirror, dented furniture, minuscule quarters - and this was a Junior Suite), and the food I tried in Upper and Midtown Manhattan wasn't especially superlative (save for the monstrous ice-creams at Emack & Bolio's). But everything else about New York is a hyperbole and a half: the taxi drivers all think they're Robert de Niro (but the cars have card machines so it's all good), the architecture is so astonishing that the Art Deco landmarks are almost superfluous, and the skyscrapers really are a hall of mirrors that reflect and trap both the sun and the human soul.
Highlights include: catching many a Bulbasaur in Central Park, watching Good Morning America interview LeBron James in Times Square, hopping from one Sephora to another, singing 'Colours Of The Wind' to tableaus of New World settlers at the American Museum of Natural History, climbing six floors in heels to the Empire State Building observatory on the 86th floor (the sprawling vista of the island as it glowed in the sunset was worth it - I would climb 500 steps, and I would climb 500 more), and doing my best impression of Kirsten Bell by writing my own Gossip Girl blast - Spotted: Jasiminne Yip lingering on the steps of The Met. I wonder what would Queen B make of this foreign upstart moving in on her territory? Careful, J, you might just start another Anglo-American war. East London and Upper East Side belligerents: now that'd be a battle we haven't seen since 1812. XOXO, Gossip Girl.
Behold, the Uptown & Midtown Manhattan photo diaries of a bewildered and bemused Anglo-Asian second-timer.
*and now you know my Netflix guilty pleasures. Fire the canons of judgement. **to say nothing of the coy song & dance to obtain a US visa. Shipoopi, shipoopi, shipoopi, the girl who's hard to get.
PHOTOS OF ME BY CATHERINE LUX, NATCH. BE MY INSTAGRAM HUSBAND? LOL JK
PHOTOS OF ME BY CATHERINE LUX, NATCH. BE MY INSTAGRAM HUSBAND? LOL JK
August 29, 2016
3 SERIES: The First Brunch of my 30's at THE STANDARD GRILL, NEW YORK
I'm not one to make a big fuss about my birthday (oh, you managed not to die in the last 365 days? Well done, do you want a cake or something?) but this year was rather more special. You see, a woman is often conditioned to anticipate her thirties with the dread of loss: be that of youth, suppleness, or relevance in this fickle and ageist world. And that is even if she hasn't spent the last 2 years of her twenties feeling increasingly helpless and trapped in a downward spiral she hasn't the strength to climb out of, never mind dare to do anything but put on a brave front and fake a smile throughout. I remember all too clearly the despair and fear I felt on my 29th birthday (I kept the notes I made that day, for posterity) but what a difference a year makes. In the past few months I've rediscovered what it feels like to be free, happy, and loved. So when Luxy invited me to join her in New York City and Orlando, I jumped at the chance to do something for myself and myself only. I said "Yes!", booked my flights, expedited a USA visa application (that dramatic debacle deserves its own blog post), and before I knew it I woke up - still hungover from the 3 bar + 2 club-bender of the night before - in our suite at The Conrad to this adorable birthday surprise.
It was our last full day in NYC, but it was the first day of my thirties, a fresh start, and only the beginning of something brighter, bigger, and better than ever. They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but when in New York do as the New Yorkers do and have brunch. And brunch we did - at the lively, hip, always-packed The Standard Grill in Manhattan's achingly cool Meatpacking District.
THANK YOU LUXY FOR PHOTOS OF ME, AND ALSO FOR TAKING THE REINS OF THIS TRIP. LOVE YOU!
August 27, 2016
The sixth instalment of my (shamefully backlogged) Cuba blog posts. Cuba was over, like, two weeks ago.
On our seventh day in Cuba, Luxy, Ciara, and I bid goodbye to the paradise that is Cayo Largo Del Sur and flew back to Havana in the evening. Our plan of attack was to have a proper night out as our Cuban trip so far was less 'gals on tour' and more 'family friendly'. Even the old people staying in Sol Cayo Lago were partying harder than us, they were thumping away to the beats of...I don't know, disco bingo? while we lay in our beds at midnight wondering if we had put on enough organic anti-mosquito body cream.
We had some serious catching up to do, and what better an opportunity than a Saturday night in Havana? A gorgeous Cuban local we met, who we shall just call Alejandro (don't call mah name, don't call mah name, Ale-ale-ale-jandro! I'm notcha babe I'm notcha babe) valiantly volunteered himself as our guide to the real Havana and not the tourist traps (Buena Vista Social Club? Casa de la Musica? Ptuiii! *spits in your chips*).
Enter Fábrica de Arte Cubano, the only place to be seen in Havana on a Saturday night. Or Friday night. Or better still Thursday night. Saturday is when all the 'kids' (anyone under the age of 23. I'm old) show up to poster and peacock.
Interestingly, on the one night I intended to disengage from any real 'learning' ie. take a break from historical outings and instead get trollied on £1 mojitos was the night I learnt the most I ever did about 'the real Cuba'. That night we spoke to many Cubans mostly our age who were wealthier or from more well to do families, which was the only way one could afford to frequent Fábrica de Arte Cubano. From speaking to these locals we learnt the truth about the class system, the government, how (sadly) affluence go hand in hand with being well-informed and educated about 'the outside world', and the dissonance among those who believe that a socialist, communist paradise is nothing but a fallacy. It just doesn't work. The only other place where this is more apparent is China, ironically the consumer capital of the world.
But first, an introduction to Fábrica de Arte Cubano, or Cuban Art Factory in English.
June 11, 2014
By our fourth day in Cayo Largo Del Sur we had experienced a few beaches. Not including the one by our hotel, Sol Cayo Largo (the temperamental waves stirred up the sand and made for murky waters which held, according to the increasing paranoia of one getting on in age as I am, things imaginary and unseen so therefore were scary and dangerous) we had enjoyed ourselves at the secluded Playa Paraiso, frolicked on the sandbank of the natural swimming pool, and left footprints in the powdery limestone beach of Cayo Las Iguana. We were told of nearby (just fifteen minutes drive) Playa Sirena, the watersport centre of all the hotels in Cayo Largo and their complimentary water activities. Crowds, commercialism, and naff overpriced souvenir stalls be damned! I would never forgive myself if I left paradise without first displaying my shameful ineptitude at rowing plastic boats that look like children's toys.
June 05, 2014
Having had enough of staying in the same spot (day three was spent luxuriating by the hotel pool, day four we barely budged from our sandbank on paradise beach) we decided to shake things up just a little on our and third day in Cayo Largo Del Sur. We threw some Cuban money at the problem and paid 44 CUC a for half-day excursion by boat to three locations; Cayo Las Iguanas (iguana island), a natural swimming pool, and snorkelling near some coral reefs.
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| When the sky meets the sea. Yet another sandbank by the 'natural swimming pool'. Photo by Luxy |
June 03, 2014
On our third day in Cuba, the girls and I woke up at the crack of dawn (four...! How obscene, that's my usual bedtime). We heaved our bags down the stairs of the casa, rolled down the dusty, ripped-up streets of Havana to our waiting taxi (no seat belts, and miles of pitch-black road en route to the airport, what could possibly go wrong?), and headed to the airport for our morning flight to Cayo Largo Del Sur.
When we got to our resort, the 4* all-inclusive Sol Cayo Largo (there are no 5* hotels on the island. This was as good as it gets) we decided to spend our first day in Cayo Largo lying by the pool, sampling the cocktails (free, strong, and unlimited, that's a potent cocktail for trouble haha), getting a 'base tan', and fantasising about all the different ways we were going to lie around doing sweet nothing.
On day four, Ciara, Luxy, and I went down to Playa Paraiso to see for ourselves if it lived up to its name.
'Paradise beach' didn't disappoint.
June 02, 2014
Exhausted by the pavement pounding from our first night in Cuba and also the excitement of Sunday, on Day 2 (Monday) Luxy, Ciara, and I gave our sandal-clad (espadrilles for me) feet a break.
May 29, 2014
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