Today has been written off as a travel recovery day. We got home from the airport around 2:30AM due to a delay on our flight home from the sunshine state, but we were happy to have gotten home by then at all. The flight at the neighboring gate to ours in Tampa was canceled after 3+ hours of delays which resulted in one of the disappointed LaGuardia-bound passengers going full Hulk in the terminal, such that he had to be escorted out by eight police officers. We felt lucky in comparison to only be delayed two hours and not to have to spend the night in some airport hotel by the Bay in return-limbo.
Once we deplaned in Newark, the trek from our gate to our car felt long. We were racing against an unknown grace-period beyond the length of our pre-paid parking. We rolled our carry-ons along the waxed tile floors of the shiny new-ish terminal, down an escalator, up an escalator, down an escalator again. We slugged along the acid-washed, blue passage connecting Terminal A to the Airtrain station, passing a man who had lost all care for his luggage and was scraping his bags along the passage wall. We transferred on the Airtrain and finally arrived at our unreliable little car that decided to be reliable this morning, the little angel. We were pleasantly surprised to still be within the parking grace-period when driving through the exit toll of the garage and that put a smile on our faces.
We decided that, despite being dead tired, a stop at Wawa seemed necessary on the way home. Mike expertly navigated the confusing start to our journey as I pointed out all the ways we would have taken a wrong turn and ended up somewhere in Elizabeth if I were navigating.
We enjoyed the empty highways characteristic of the early morning hours when most of New Jersey’s dwellers are nestled in their beds. The hour offered quiet, cool relief compared with the Florida heat and Wawa was a bright, quick respite. We stocked up on a few snacks and we were home soon enough.
Typically, I unpack everything as soon as we get home, but hunger and sleepiness delayed this process. We ate our “meal” in groggy, happy silence, brushed our teeth and fell asleep before we even realized it.
Today, my muscles and bones feel like they were replaced with wet sand and my hair could use a wash but that would certainly be overextending for the day. The grocery shopping is done, the bags are unpacked, and a load of laundry needs to be folded, but that can wait until tomorrow. I preferred to sit here and catch up with you, to move my fingers, and pretend the day was somewhat productive even though I may still be a little bit asleep. I will relish 2:00AM tomorrow from my dreams, tucked comfortably up in warm sheets and a quilt, unconscious to the stress and uncertainties of planes, trains, and automobiles.
Our final approach into Key West International Airport was one of my most memorable so far. Looking out the window, a little smile suspended my cheeks in a dreamy state of cheerfulness as the turquoise waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean met below us, guiding the way to the Conch Republic. We landed and took our phones off airplane mode and I let me family know we’d made it safely.
View from the Plane
The airport grounds crew rolled up a ramp to the door of the plane, as though an impressive set piece in an extravagant production and we collected our bags, thanked the in-flight crew and bounced down the metal pathway, eager to get the day started after spending hours traveling. A warm breeze whipped through the air and the thunder of jet engines and nearby construction roared in our ears as we followed the fluid foot traffic from the plane, through the tiny terminal with car rental counters and an indoor bar aiming for island vibes, and to the ride-share pickup area. A hankering for cocktails by the water and a grumble in our bellies decided the itinerary for the afternoon, but first we wanted to drop our bags off at the hotel.
Mike summoned a Lyft and we were off. Our driver, a friendly man from Haiti, welcomed us to Key West and told us we would love it and, without prompt, assured us it was a safe place. “Nothing bad ever happened here,” he said, “You can walk around and just enjoy yourselves. You don’t have to worry.” We were not worried to begin with, but it was nice to hear his advice all the same and we were more than ready to walk around and enjoy ourselves.
Our driver dropped us off at our hotel, The Marker, and the staff at the front desk were friendly and accommodating when we asked to store our bags until our room was ready. Bag check tags safely stowed in my handbag, we made our way to Sunset Pier by the Ocean Key Resort & Spa to satiate my thirst for cocktails by the water. I ordered a Grapefruit Crush and Mike got a Florida Keys Brewing Co beer from the bar and we chose two colorful stools overlooking the water and the island of Sunset Key.
The View from Sunset Pier
No view beats a water view, for me. Make that water turquoise and crystalline and I’m in love. Vacation had officially started and I grew pleasantly drowsy as the jetlag sat heavy upon on my eyelids, the fruity alcohol concoction going down easy, and the gentle sound of water lapped at the pier below and before us through the slats of the railing. We decided we were craving tacos and narrowed our preference down to Amigos Tortilla Bar on Greene Street as it was close and well reviewed and we were hungry.
We were seated immediately at an outdoor counter overlooking Greene Street, a prime people-watching station which I recommend as a top Key West activity. Across the street was Capt. Tony’s Saloon, a bar that boasted a claim of being the oldest bar in Florida, which we knew could in no way be true as we’d been to St. Augustine two years earlier. Still, as we waited for our food, we enjoyed watching the Capt. Tony’s patrons attempt to “feed” coins to the Atlantic goliath grouper suspended above the establishment’s sign, in hopes that good luck would follow them throughout their time on the island if their coin was successfully consumed.
Capt. Tony’s Saloon from Amigo’s Tortilla Bar
Lunch was both delicious and refreshing. I opted for tacos, one pork and one shredded chicken, both on corn tortillas and an Islamorada Ale. We were still waiting on the text from our hotel informing us that our room was ready and I wanted to explore Duval Street. We paid the bill and set out to explore.
Lunch is Served!
Duval street is packed with shops, restaurants, and people – hoards and hoards of people. The days we were there, we saw a large cruise ship docked in the port at Mallory Square which definitely contributed to the congestion of the Historic Seaport and Old Town neighborhoods of the little island. Though crowded, we’re not talking Times Square crowded, so we were hardly phased.
We perused the shops and architecture along Duval Street from the sidewalk and navigated south until we’d had enough of the kitchy offerings peeking out at us from shop windows, and changed course in search of the Custom House building, home to the Key West Museum of Art & History, which I had read sometimes displayed large sculpture pieces in front of the building. With no large sculpture on display to marvel at on our visit to the building, however, and receiving the text that our room was ready, we made our way back to The Marker via less busy streets, ingesting the local architecture with each colorful bungalow and guest house we passed along the way, feeling the heat of the afternoon Florida sunshine.
Our room at the Marker was spacious and bright with a king-sized bed, balcony overlooking a palm tree-ensconced parking lot, and a full bathroom equipped with both a shower stall and large soaking tub with key lime scented bath amenities. Mike took a nap and I finished editing a YouTube video and settled in, setting my suitcase on the luggage rack and sliding into my new, pink, satin, travel slippers which replaced my now-recycled, overworn, gray slides with the decorative bows.
Feeling refreshed after getting off of our feet for a couple of hours, we ventured to the outskirts of the Mallory Square Sunset Celebration in search of what all the travel blogs, vlogs, and Tripadvisor promised to be an unforgettable experience. The Sunset Celebration is held nightly and begins approximately two hours before sunset. The celebration is home to lively entertainment including street performers, souvenier and food vendors, live music, and hoards of tourists preferring to see the sunset through their phones instead of with their eyeballs.
It is said that the playwright, Tennessee Williams, began the Sunset Celebration, choosing to applaud the sunset from Mallory Square each evening, with a gin and tonic in hand (what a multi-tasker). Today’s celebration is a far cry from the magic of that image and the dreamer in me felt the experience was muddied by the circus-like spectacle. The crowd was applauding and began to disperse even before the sun reached the horizon, concealed by a cloud for the final moments of its descent, before colorful brushstrokes painted the sky.
We relocated to Sunset Pier next door for pre-dinner cocktails, settling in for the real magic as the crowds thinned and dusk approached. I’m a sucker for a cotton candy sky and this one did not disappoint.
We chose to have dinner at First Flight Island Restaurant & Brewery, a restaurant housed in, and adjacent to, the original PanAm ticket office. I am sorry to say it, but I do not have positive things to say about our dining experience there, beyond that the atmosphere of the outdoor patio was indeed very pleasant. Let’s just say we got to enjoy that atmosphere, and that atmosphere alone for a while, as we waited over thirty minutes for our drink order to be taken by someone who was allegedly not supposed to be our server.
Our drinks arrived about twenty minutes after that, delivered by the same “back-up” server who took down our food order which arrived over an hour later, delivered by our “back-up” server who also told us she had to put our dishes on the tray herself in the kitchen. Despite the lackluster service, we still had high hopes that the loftily priced food would be as delicious as the online reviews has promised. We were disappointed in that as well, unfortunately. If you are going to be a brewery and a restaurant and charge lofty prices, please aim to do at least one of those exceedingly well, or reduce your prices.
We decided to seek out adventure for the next day and signed up for a snorkel and sail tour with Island Jane Charters. We started our second day in Key West with brunch at Moondog Cafe. Walking up to Moondog and seeing the huge crowd outside was a little stressful as we were strapped for time, needing to get to our snorkeling rally point in a little less than two hours. I checked in with the hostess, a laid back, Audrey Hepburn admirer who assured me it would be no more than a fifteen minute wait and introduced me to the system of “putting your name down” at Moondog. She withdrew a box of laminated cards from the hostess stand and instructed me to, “Pick a card, any card.” I read the card I withdrew from the box, “Walt Disney,” the name instantly drawing to mind sunny visions of my friends Chelsea and Paige who each frequent Disney vacation properties.
“Are you really?” said the hostess with airy fascination.
“Why not?” I said with a shrug and a smile.
Sixteen minutes later “my name” was called and the hostess widened her eyes with a smile and said, “Shortest fifteen minutes of your life, am I right?”
We followed her inside, past the counter of freshly baked pastries on display and over to our little table beside a colorful floor to ceiling mural depicting Hemingway and the famous cats that now resided at his former property across the corner. Breakfast was delicious and any stress I felt melted away with the first sips of coffee and a few bites of my “Moondog Classic”. It was a relief to taste delicious food after my epic fail of dinner the night before.
We hurried back to The Marker to change for our snorkeling tour and got to the rally point in a less than direct way, but on time, only to be informed that snorkeling the reef was not possible that day due to the recent windy weather making the water too murky to see anything. The sail was still on offer though, and boasted unlimited drinks. We’d get a partial refund if we chose to go on the sail or a full refund if we preferred not to. We decided that already being there and in search of an adventure, that we’d join for the sail and it turned out to be a fun and informative way to pass a couple of hours. Being out on the water alone was worth the price.
One thing first time visitors should be mindful of when visiting Key West is that there are not sandy beaches where you can wade into the water barefoot and bask in the gentle tide. Beaches in Key West, other than Smathers Beach, outside the historic, walkable downtown, are manmade and rocky (and crowded!). It is better to go in search of the plethora of watersports, cruises, and activities offered to satisfy your splashy goals and search for those breathtaking views.
We sat poolside at the Marker for a while after our sail, enjoying live music up until the point where an attention-hungry, over-tanned, grown man decided it would be fun for everyone to experience the interactive journey of him canon-balling into the pool. Next was our old haunt, Sunset Pier, then dinner at what I was hoping would be an excellent Cuban restaurant. (First Flight really pummeled my restaurant confidence, can you tell?) We changed for dinner and walked to El Siboney in the Old Town neighborhood. The place was crowded with tourists when we sat down so I had high hopes it would live up to the hype, and live up to the hype it did.
Mojito O’Clock at Sunset Pier
I ordered the ropa vieja (shredded beef with onions, peppers, tomato, and spices with a side of white rice and black beans) and Mike got the lechon (slow roasted pork marinated in sour orange mojo with onions and a side of white rice and black beans). We both decided it might be the best ropa vieja we have ever tasted and we have tasted some excellent ropa vieja, let me tell you.
We walked back to The Marker, our bellies full, breathing in the humid evening and dodging palm fronds as we passed the colorful bungalows that hugged the sidewalk, warning us to Beware of Flamingos and informing us that Life’s a Beach. We made our way along the streets, many with names of members of British royalty and returned to the Marker, satisfied with our adventures for the day.
We drifted off to sleep, sheltered by the palm trees, enveloped in the welcoming conch spirit, our rental car and Florida Keys road trip lying in wait. We went to Moondog again for one last meal before heading to the airport to collect our rental car and drove east with the thought that one more day in paradise would have been just right.
We recently returned from vacation in Florida with Mike’s family, and while I am going to miss the beautiful, emerald waters and white sand of Miramar Beach, I’ve got to say that I am happy to be home.
Being able to get back into a routine and feel settled is always a reward after a long trip or travel day and this return was no different. We walked into the condo on Saturday night, left our carry-on suitcases and personal items by our entry area, and sat down on the blue couch to wind down from our journey.
Prior to leaving for a trip, we always try to leave our home somewhat neat so that it is pleasant to walk into upon returning. When dishes and laundry are done and put away and the clothes we left behind are tucked away where they belong, it makes the task of unpacking much more enjoyable. I usually unpack either right away or the morning after returning, putting clean clothes in the dresser and closet, laundry in the hamper, toiletries in the bathroom, and shoes on the shoe rack. I tuck my green, Away Carry-On suitcase, with the matching packing cubes inside, in the bedroom closet where it lives and hang my black, Marmot backpack up in the entryway closet.
I actually enjoy unpacking and as Mike could happily live out of an open suitcase on the living room floor for a week, I usually unpack for him as well because it makes me feel more calm and settled. Everything in our home has a place and that makes it easy to restore our home to its usual state after traveling and to rejuvenate for everyday life. And when those spaces become too full, it is our reminder to re-evaluate our stuff and declutter, if needed.
Growing up, my family did not travel a lot and the travel bug didn’t bite me until I was twenty-one, soon after I had moved to Brooklyn. For our first few trips, Mike and I traveled with a large, checked suitcase that we would borrow from Mike’s mom. It was bulky and difficult to lug to the airport on public transportation. When I first became interested in minimalism after watching Matt D’Avella’s documentary Minimalism: A Documentary About the Important Things, I wanted to approach the challenge of living light while traveling by packing carry-on only for a trip.
Our first experience traveling carry-on only for a long trip came in September 2017. We were headed to Rome, Florence, and the Amalfi Coast for ten days and after researching our destinations and the plentiful cobblestones and stairs there, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to test out our goal. I used what have become some of my staple travel bags for this trip: my ebags Mother Load Jr. Backpack and my Red House Vermont Waxed Canvas Book Bag Crossbody. I cannot tell you how many people I have recommended these bags to because I have lost track, and while they have jumped in price a bit, I still highly recommend both for functionality and durability in packing light. (Red House even offers discounts for new email subscribers if anyone is interested.)
For our 2017 Italy trip, carry-on only worked well for us and even came in more than handy, and potentially life saving, when we found ourselves trapped on the interior steps of our Airbnb in Rome, separated from the exit door by a tall, black, iron gate. We had a Frecce train to catch in about an hour to take us to Florence and it was torrentially downpouring outside.
After trying and failing to call our Airbnb host multiple times and banging on every door in what seemed to be a four-story, empty office building with an empty Airbnb, we panicked for a couple minutes and eyed the gate with more and more determination. “Fuck it; we’re gonna climb it,” I said with false confidence.
Neither of us really seemed to believe me.
I went first, placing my right, gray, Converse sneaker in the low foothold of the gate. I swung my left leg up and had to hop to push my thigh on the gate in order to propel myself over, adrenaline pumping too hard to feel the pain that would catch up with me later in the day. My left foot found the lower foothold and I could jump down to reach the floor. The accomplishment was too great to process and a surge of relief overcame the fear from moments ago. Mike, more determined and in semi-disbelief that I had climbed the gate, was able to toss our bags over and I caught them on the other side. He climbed and propelled himself over the gate and together, we ran to the Tabacchi around the corner to get our tickets for the bus to the train station. We were completely soaked within the thirty seconds it took to get to the Tabacchi and then waited at the bus stop, completely sopping, but out in the open air in Rome and nothing could be more wonderful than not being trapped anymore.
When we arrived at our Airbnb in Florence and unpacked, there were puddles in our backpacks and we hung our clothes up all around the room to let them dry, riding high on our escape from Rome until the shock and bruises set in. We spent our nights in Florence away from our humid room, our legs sore, drinking pints of beer instead of glasses of wine and reminisced about how we had climbed the gate.
On our recent trip to Rome this past spring, we revisited our Airbnb from 2017 and the experience gave us some closure that we needed. We posed in front of the doorway with frowny faces and our thumbs down, with the certainty that we would never stay there again and then we left to join my family for a delicious pasta dinner.
While packing carry-on only may not always come in quite as handy as it did for us on that first trip to Italy together, it makes it so much easier to get around while traveling, whether it be on public transportation, through the airport, or around a city. Having limited space in your travel bags encourages you to pack very intentionally and to use your creativity to create multiple outfits out of a small capsule wardrobe of items.
If you are planning an upcoming trip, I encourage you to try packing light and if you’re in for a real challenge, you could even test out the sense of freedom that comes with Carry-on only travel. Until next time, happy planning, happy packing, and happy travels. And if you ever face a tall iron gate of your own, I wish you luck, strength, perseverance and lots of cold ice packs.
cozy does it 