Travel

Puerto Rico Travel Journal

February 17, 2025September 9, 2025 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

We were greeted by ominous clouds upon landing at Newark Airport yesterday afternoon, a drastic change from our view upon waking up in Fajardo, Puerto Rico- turquoise water stretching from Puerto Chico out to Cayo Icacos, where we had walked in the sand just the morning before. It was a treat to swap the chill of New Jersey in February for the warm sunshine and breezes of Puerto Rico, even if only for a few days.

San Juan

We landed in Carolina on Thursday and drove to Old San Juan to take in the colors and the history of the city and its fortresses. Some of the streets in Old San Juan are narrow, cobbled, and steep. We parked with relief in a lot down by the port on the south side of Old San Juan and went in search of lunch. I had done some research beforehand on a few restaurant options, but found opening hours to be varied and inconsistent with my research. We stopped in at Café El Punto for a snack of some mariquitas de platano con guacamole and café frio. Both were delicious, but I was itching to get back outside to explore. I knew heading to Puerto Rico that restaurant service runs on “island time”, a slowed down version of regular time, and so it took a little while to actually get back outside.

The sun was hot and the breeze-warm as we headed up the hill along the winding streets, in the direction of Castillo San Felipe del Morro, perhaps better known simply as El Morro. The fort is perched overlooking the ocean and the Bay of San Juan in the northwesternmost tip of the island of Old San Juan. An expansive stretch of inviting green grass and blue sky welcomed us as we neared the fort.

It felt a little surreal to see the US National Parks emblem on the sign for El Morro, being on an island in the Caribbean, 1000 miles from the mainland. Puerto Rico, though a United States Territory, retains a unique charm and culture, not to mention a long-spanning history that is very unique to the island and very distinct from the influence of US mainland culture.

Inside the fortress’ thick, stone walls, tourists snapped photos and wove in, out, and through, from chamber to chamber, taking in the history of one of the most attacked fortresses in history due to San Juan’s attractive and strategic harbor location in the Caribbean. The walls were built to resist cannon fire and the fort developed a reputation for being unconquerable after evading invasion attempts by the English, Dutch, and British from the 16th to the 18th century. The fort fell to the hands of the Americans during the Spanish American War, ultimately succumbing due to updated capabilities of naval weaponry. El Morro was also used in later years as a US military base during WWI and WWII.

Nowadays, the fort is the perfect spot to take in the view of the turquoise and cerulean Atlantic waters crashing into white froth on the rocks below. Exhibits within the fort’s stone walls provide insight into what life was like for the Spanish soldiers stationed there in the 1700s and it was interesting to read about the history and wander the sunny plaza, sentry boxes (garitas), dim passageways, arched chambers, and original structures, one of which dated back to 1539.

From El Morro, we walked east along the waterfront, on the outskirts of La Perla. We stuck to the road with Castillo San Cristobal in our sights as our entry fee to El Morro included entry to the other fort as well. Castillo San Cristobal was less crowded and felt a little smaller than El Morro. It was here where we first encountered some island wildlife- a couple of iguanas, one cooling itself in the shade between the battlements and one basking in the sunshine.

With tired legs and the beginning aches of sunburn, we decided to head somewhere for lunch and a cold drink. We opted for St. Germain Bistro & Café. The island time was real at this restaurant, let me tell you my friends, and it took a looong time to even be acknowledged by the wait staff, let alone to get our drinks and food. More than one couple got up and left between our seating and when we paid our check due to the long wait for their order to be taken. The restaurant did not seem so busy and we marveled at the staff’s lack of interest in taking people’s food and drink orders. People leaving just seemed like business as usual, so I guess we were lucky to ultimately be served?

Service aside, my cocktail and our food were both delicious. I ordered a Whiskey Business which was refreshing and tasty and Mike got the locally brewed beer, Medalla. We shared a carrot dip and a refreshing avocado salad and then dug into our main dish which was a bell pepper stuffed with stewed lentils and topped with cheese, accompanied by rice and beans. It was so good and made the long wait feel almost worth it.

With full bellies and rain starting to sprinkle, we went back to the car and settled in for the drive over to the east coast to our Airbnb in Fajardo. As we made our way across the northern side of the island, we spotted advertisements and structures for many familiar restaurant chains. Puerto Rico takes American fast food culture to the next level. If you are a fast food fan living on the mainland, you will find pretty much all of the typical fast food offerings from home if you visit Puerto Rico, along with many additional highway-side local food vendors to choose from.

As we drove across the island, we noticed many dilapidated homes, businesses, and structures and wondered if the properties were abandoned remnants from the devastation caused by Hurricane Maria back in 2017. My memory of the island will likely be equal parts paradise and devastation as it was evident how much of a permanent toll the hurricane’s destruction took on the island and its residents.

Fajardo

We arrived at our Airbnb in Fajardo, a condo on an upper floor of an apartment building that overlooked Puerto Chico. The view was breathtaking and brought us quickly back to a state of paradise.

Vieques

Fajardo proved to be an excellent location for our adventurous itinerary over the next couple of days. We started the day on Friday with a boat tour to the island of Vieques for snorkeling and some relaxing walks on the beach. We made the mistake of sitting on the second level of the boat on the way out of the marina and got walloped with salty spray for the forty-five minute rollicking journey to Vieques, a truly romantic experience to kick off our Valentine’s Day.

The boat ride put all of my fear of snorkeling out of mind until we reached the snorkeling spot, that is. I was a little afraid to get into the open water after one of the other people on our tour asked one of the guides if there would be sharks. “This is the ocean man,” he responded, “There’s anything: treasure, migrants, anything!” So that meant there might be sharks. My mom being a big fan of Jaws, I am not a big fan of swimming with sharks. I wasn’t gonna chicken out though, so I put on my mask, slipped on my flippers and descended into the water.

There’s something that happens when you are living in the moment of a thrilling experience. Fear subsides and intrigue takes over. Once my head was under water, I was fine. There is something so calming in the pressure and the isolation. There is depth and cold and Darth Vader sounds coming from the snorkel, and everything’s ok somehow. I saw a sea turtle laying in the sand and watched for a while hoping it was alive. I came up to get my bearings.

“Want to see a sting ray?” said the guide.

He could have said, Want to see a shark? and my answer would have been the same.

“Yeah!”

The rush of the moment takes over and that’s when the real living starts. It just doesn’t happen often so you have to take advantage of it when it does.

We anchored by Playa Punta Arenas on the northwestern tip of Vieques. The beach was nearly empty except for our group. The sand was gold and backed up to green jungle. The water was turquoise and clear and I could see my feet and a few fish swimming nearby. There was a lunch of sandwiches and pasta salad on the boat and an open rum cocktail bar plentiful with pina coladas. The paradise was really making its mark and the coconut was cool and sweet.

Luquillo

We returned to the main island and headed to Luquillo to peruse the food kiosk offerings there. After walking the length of the kioskos, we decided we’d try La Parilla and Nativa Latin Cuisine. At La Parilla, we each enjoyed a cold Medalla, a beer brewed in Puerto Rico, and ordered a carne frita meal to share. The pork was tender and delicious and the view wasn’t half bad.

At Nativa Latin Cuisine, we had our second island time experience that was worth the wait. We ordered mofongo, a savory delight and Puerto Rican staple made of mashed plantains. Ours came topped with criollo sauce and chicken and let’s just say we crushed the whole thing even though we weren’t hungry after La Parilla. Yum!

Icacos

The next day promised more adventure. We took another snorkeling tour and learned our lesson from the day before. We sat at the front of the boat this time, well into the covered section and stayed dry as the people in the back of the boat and up top got soaked. It shouldn’t feel good, but what can I tell you?

The second snorkeling adventure took us to a reef near the island of Icacos. We saw many more fish on this trip, but no larger creatures. It was cool to swim right up to the reef, although the reef, unfortunately, appeared to have suffered the effects of coral bleaching. After our guides called us back to the boat, we headed closer to the beach in Icacos and swam to shore to walk on the white sand.

Were it not for the crowded, party-like atmosphere at 11:00AM, I think I would have preferred this beach to the beach in Vieques from the day before. Remoteness has its own charms, though, so I’m happy we got to do both. A couple of pina coladas and coconut mojitos later, and it was time to head back to Fajardo.

El Yunque

Our next planned activity was a kayaking tour of the bioluminescent bay, Laguna Grande, later that evening so we had some time to add something else to our plans. We opted to drive out to El Yunque National Forest, the only tropical rainforest in the US. In El Yunque, we made a few brief stops including the Visitor’s Center, a kebob stand for a hasty lunch, La Coca Falls, and Torre Yokahu. If you only have time for one, I suggest Torre Yokahu as it offers impressive 360 degree views of the forest.

Laguna Grande

Ok, so remember the thing about the fear of sharks from earlier in this post and it going out the window due to the thrill of the moment? Well, I also have this thing about the dark. In the pursuit of adventure, fear must be cast aside sometimes and discomfort-embraced. This is what I told myself as we kayaked along the narrow canal through the pitch black mangrove after dark on our way to Laguna Grande, one of only five bioluminescent bays in the world.

We kayaked single file along the canal, guided only by a small red light on the back of each of the kayaks in front of us. We could hear the splash of paddles in the water and the coqui frogs singing in the tangled trees all around us and, somehow, I was not afraid anymore. It was beautiful- a line of dotted red gliding through the water on the way to the lagoon. Real life seems unreal sometimes, I thought.

We arrived at the lagoon and our guides instructed us on how to best view the bioluminescent effect in the water. The bioluminescent effect is a defense mechanism of the dinoflagellate plankton in the water and is activated when the plankton are disturbed by movement. The moon was pretty bright the night of our tour, but we still got to see a sparkling effect when moving our hands and paddles in the water. The tour also provided dark tarps that we covered ourselves with in order to better see the effect. It was magical and strange and probably looked like a weird ritualistic practice to the unknowing eye, but it was worth paddling through the dark to get a glimpse of the sparklers in the water.

After our tour, we changed quickly in the car to make our dinner reservation. Turns out we didn’t need to rush after all, though, as the host decided our reservation was too late in the day and lectured us on how we shouldn’t have made a reservation so late (even though it was available and not even the latest reservation available). They said they would still “help us” and we could stay, but we decided we didn’t need that favor on our last night after the lecture already ruffled our feathers a bit. Instead, we went to the local grocery store, Pueblo, and picked up a bottle of wine and a few things to make a delicious dinner of our own. It ended up being a fun and relaxing way to end our last night in Puerto Rico, so I’m almost happy for the little hiccup.

On our final morning, the usual wind present on our Airbnb’s balcony was still and we enjoyed some leftovers from our homemade meal the night before while sitting outside, soaking up the beautiful view one last time.

I enjoyed our trip, but was happy to head back to the airport and home to New Jersey. Even though the forecast for the evening promised cold and rain, there’s just something so inviting about home after being away. When the wheels touched down in Newark, I heard some passengers on the plane voicing their disappointment as they looked out the window, but I was looking forward to a hearty dinner at one of our favorite local restaurants. Something about getting away makes home more special. It disturbs the regular routine for a while and makes it sparkle brighter, even in the dark.

Travel

Molasses in January: A Savannah Winter Travel Journal

January 28, 2025January 28, 2025 Beth DeFriesLeave a comment

When we planned our trip to Savannah, GA for this past weekend, we looked forward to slowing things down and enjoying a winter retreat with warmer weather than we’ve been having at home. We planned on long, brisk, scenic walks through the Hostess City, beneath shaded canopies of live oaks draped in Spanish moss. We didn’t even imagine that the snow from days earlier in the week would have any impact our plans to explore.

Until last week, it hadn’t snowed in Savannah in seven years, according to many of the locals we encountered there. In our Uber ride from the airport to the historic district, we learned that the airport had only re-opened two hours before we landed, after being closed for three days. The streets and sidewalks were frosted with ice and snow, left to crust over, slick and perilous for tourists and local pedestrians determined enough to brave them.

We knew we’d slow things down in Savannah this past weekend, we just didn’t realize how much.

“Little, tiny, baby steps,” said Mike as we shuffled our way from the corner across from Wright Square to the front door of our Airbnb. The street was white and lined with parked cars molded to the curb with solidified snow. We saw people trying to dig out the sidewalks in front of their homes and businesses with metal, pointed-spade, garden shovels and leaf blowers and marveled at the unexpected culture shock of this city in the snow.

I checked my email and learned that our Restaurant Week dinner reservation had been canceled by the restaurant due to the road conditions, but was prepared with some alternatives. We got settled in our Airbnb, a beautiful one-bedroom apartment across from Wright Square and figured out our new plan for the evening.

Once we were settled, we headed out to brave the icy sidewalks in pursuit of cocktails and dinner. Our first stop was Alley Cat Lounge, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar located on a lane between Ellis and Telfair Square. We perused the Alley Cat Rag, a newspaper-style menu where the drink options are disguised as catalogue advertisements. I opted for the Improved Whiskey Cocktail, which tasted like an old fashioned but smelled like black gumdrops due to the touch of Absinthe it contained.

After cocktails, we little, tiny, baby-stepped our way south to The Public Kitchen & Bar on Bull & Liberty Street for a late night dinner. We were seated in a mid-century modern dining room with geometric pendant lamps that made the hygge-fan-girl in me very pleased. The food at The Public was probably the best of our trip and it had some serious contenders; let me tell you. We enjoyed the Autumn Salad, the Seafood Mac (a creamy, cheesy delight packed with lobster, shrimp, and scallops), and the Lamb Burger (our favorite single food item of the entire trip, a perfectly cooked and spiced burger paired with goat cheese and sweet pepper jam-take me back!).

After dinner, we packed up our leftovers and headed back out into the cold night. We slipped and slid our way back up Bull Street and stumbled across Chippewa Square. Chippewa Square was used as a filming location in the movie, Forrest Gump, and served as the backdrop to the bench where Forrest sits with his suitcase throughout multiple scenes in the movie. While the bench is in a museum now, we still paused to snap a picture only to learn that we had taken the photo from the wrong side of the park. We remedied this error, however, the next evening.

The next morning, I checked my email and learned that our tour of Bonaventure Cemetery for that afternoon had been canceled and that the cemetery would be closed until Monday due to the winter road conditions. We did not end up making it out to the cemetery on this trip as our timing did not allow for a Monday visit. Our morning walking tour of the city, however, was still on, so we headed around the corner to meet up with our tour group.

Our guide from Genteel & Bard Tours was a conservatory-trained actor and certified tour guide who had a contagious enthusiasm for the history of the city. He led us around the historic district, sticking to soft snow or the sunny side of the street as much as possible to allow for safer walking conditions, but we still got to skate around a little bit as we learned more about Savannah’s historic figures and the city’s design.

Among the homes featured on our history tour, was the Green-Meldrim house off of Madison Square. The home served as the headquarters for General Sherman, of the Union Army, during the winter of 1864-1865. According to our guide and a plaque in Madison Square, Sherman met with 20 leaders from Savannah’s African-American churches at the house, under Lincoln’s orders, resulting in his issuing the Special Field Orders No. 15, which reserved coastal land in the south to be settled by freed families of enlisted freedmen. The order was in place only for a short while though, unfortunately, only to be revoked by President Andrew Johnson following President Abraham Lincoln’s death.

Our tour continued south, past scenic Jones Street and through Monterey Square. We learned about the significance of what local Savannahians apparently refer to as “The Book”. The Mercer-Williams House was once home to Jim Williams, an influential player on the chessboard of Savannah Society, in his day. Williams held political sway and significant policy influence by means of invitations (or lack thereof) to his lavish, Saturday parties. Jim Williams was also tried four times for the same murder, the story of which is the basis for John Berendt’s novel Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.

We continued to wind our way through the slippery streets of the historic district and stopped in front of a derelict, Georgian house that was purchased by the owners two years ago and partially demolished, losing the symmetry iconic of Georgian-style architecture. Further renovation on the property must abide by the city’s strictly enforced historic preservation rules. The house overlooks beautiful Taylor Square, so I suppose the renovation will have been worth the wait, once completed.

With one more view of beautiful Jones Street, our tour ended in Lafayette Square, flanked on two sides by The Cathedral Basilica of St. John the Baptist and the Andrew Low House, once home to Juliette Gordon Low, the founder of the Girl Guides and the Girl Scouts.

We took some time for a short rest back at our Airbnb, hoping that the sunny day would work its magic on the icy city and then headed back out for some more views and adventure.

We made our way east across the city and up towards the Savannah riverfront, encountering Savannah’s “Waving Girl” statue of Florence Martus and her dog. We would learn more about her on our Savannah Riverboat Cruise the next day, where our guide told the story that Florence lived on a remote island with her brother, a lighthouse keeper, following their parents’ early death. She would wave to every ship that passed the island, calling out to sailors to ask where they had sailed from and where they were heading. She even trained her dog to wake her up so she wouldn’t miss a passing ship. The tour guide also told us that Florence Martus’ funeral was the most attended in Savannah’s history due to her renown among the maritime community in the area.

We headed up to our next stop for some drinks and lunch, Bar Julian, a place recommended to us by our Airbnb host as having the best rooftop view of the city. I ordered a Mint Julep and we shared a Kafta flatbread that was absolutely delicious. The views were pretty beautiful, but I think my favorite views of Savannah were smaller scale, and from much lower heights, beneath the towering oaks in the city’s plentiful squares.

For dinner later on, we headed to Wright Square Bistro and enjoyed delicious and plentiful fare of mushroom lasagna and steak frites, along with some house red wine and good conversation. It was one of those dinners that I feel like I’ll remember for a long time because of the whole experience and how relaxed I felt in the restaurant’s cozy, unfussy environs. I was enjoying myself so much that I forgot to take any pictures.

Still full from dinner the previous night, we set out the next morning with a goal to see every Square in Savannah and to get a better glimpse of Forsyth Park. Our guide on our walking tour the previous day seemed less than thrilled with Forsyth Park’s centerpiece, a beautiful fountain that the city ordered out of a catalogue and installed in 1858. I still thought it was pretty beautiful and wanted a photo with it.

Our appetites returned in full force and we walked north in pursuit of brunch at The Collins Quarter downtown. We were seated in a cozy room downstairs and our server told us that we couldn’t go wrong with anything we ordered. Based solely on what we ordered, he was correct. I opted for the breakfast sandwich and a spiced lavender mocha. I think it may have been the best coffee of my entire life.

After brunch, we took a river boat cruise on the Savannah River aboard the Georgia Queen and learned about Savannah’s claim to fame as the third largest port in the US (if you combine LA and Long Beach; 4th if you don’t). We learned the history behind the Florence Martus statue and passed by Old Fort Jackson during a cannon fire reenactment. Our guide even pointed out some dolphins in the river and I managed to snap a photo of one in the last photo pictured here! Eep!

Our adventure continued on at the American Prohibition Museum, an impressively-themed tribute to a weird time in history. As we wandered through the lifelike dioramas and displays, including a whiskey gutter, moonshine operation, mob-hit scene, and speak-easy, we wondered just how drunk America was all the time to make the movement seem sane to the “Dries”, those in support of Prohibition. From the samples of propaganda on display throughout the museum, the sway of the media seemed clear, but from the artifacts on display and loopholes detailed in the information plaques, so too was the nation’s affinity for drink.

After the American Prohibition Museum, we were in need of a drink or two. We headed over to Service Brewing Co. and ordered a flight to share. Each sample we tried was excellent, so I imagine it would be hard to go wrong with any of their offerings.

We continued on to the lobby of the JW Marriott in the new Plant Riverside District, it having been suggested by our Airbnb host and our riverboat tour guide as something worth seeing. The biggest draw to the Marriott’s lobby is the huge, chrome, dinosaur suspended from the ceiling followed by the fossils and some massive geodes on display. We found the plaques associated with the display items to be a little pretentious, and didn’t feel the need to stay long. I think we may just be spoiled having lived in New York for years. I have never seen anything quite so impressive as the fossils on display in the American Museum of Natural History, so a chrome dinosaur isn’t gonna do it for me. Someone else might think it’s really cool though, so take what I say with a grain of salt and enjoy as you will.

The next morning, before leaving what is now among my list of favorite places I have visited, we stopped to grab me one one spiced lavender mocha before heading off to the airport for our flight home. Savannah is over for us for now, but it was more beautiful than I dreamed it would be and I look forward to going back someday. Perhaps we’ll walk slow again upon the snow beneath the oaks some other January to come. For now, I have my memories to retrace our icy steps.

Travel

Pennsylvania Getaways: Gettysburg

November 21, 2024November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries3 Comments

The sun is still sleeping as I sit down to write this morning and I’ve been up for a while. It’s raining substantially for the first time in a long time and with recent water restrictions issued by the state, New Jersey certainly needed this.

I’m sipping on steaming Earl Gray from my favorite mug at the kitchen table while cooking a batch of steel cut oats on the stove. I hear them bubble and breathe behind me under my lax supervision and am already dreaming of spoonfuls swirled with hints of creamy peanut butter and real maple syrup.

I have been trying to think of how best to start this post for a few days now, with no luck. The words evaded me, creeping in my wake like the shadow of a silent army whose next move I couldn’t predict. Sometimes first lines attack by surprise and facing them becomes urgent.

This one’s about three days in July of 1863.

Growing up, I visited Gettysburg a few times with my family, my dad and my uncle being huge history buffs, but I was never quite old enough to appreciate the sobering significance of the town’s quaint streets and picturesque scenery: rolling hills dotted with clusters of trees, farms, orchards, rocky outcrops, and majestic monuments. This time felt different, however, and I went in more prepared to experience the weight of the place.

Driving through downtown Gettysburg on a Friday evening in early November, it wasn’t obvious that the town was much different from any other historic location we’d visited in the eastern US. The streets were lined with small businesses, shops, restaurants, and colorful, old buildings. The red brick sidewalks around Lincoln Square were packed with tourists on their way to dinner, drinks, or an evening walking tour, little shopping bags swinging in hand with purchases from specialty boutiques and souvenir shops from among the town’s plethora of offerings.

We continued on our drive down Baltimore Street to our hotel, Best Western Gettysburg, located in the historic part of town, across the street from the battlefield. On our way, we passed more historic looking buildings mixed in amongst even more gift shops, museums, art galleries, ghost tour companies, and taverns.

“That’s where we’re going tonight,” I said to Mike as we passed Dobbin House Tavern, gesturing to a stone house on our right, set back a little from the road. Each of its colonial style windows flickered with inviting candlelight and I found myself looking forward to dinner. I knew I had been there before as a kid, but couldn’t picture the inside other than a vague memory of a historical diorama of an underground railroad refuge.

We checked into the hotel, got settled in our room, and met my sister and her husband back down in the lobby. The restaurant was only a short walk from the hotel, but it was chilly outside and the cozy tavern, its waiting area appointed with a huge hearth and rustic, colonial furnishings, offered us much appreciated respite from the wind. We found my dad standing near the host stand among a small crowd of others waiting to be seated and he greeted us with his usual enthusiasm and urged us to go check out the secret hideout that was partway up a narrow staircase off the waiting room.

He looked around the little waiting area and said, “I don’t know where mom went.” We didn’t know either and had not seen her outside. While my dad went out to solve that mystery, the rest of us went to check out the underground railroad display. The crawlspace was even smaller than I remembered and contained life-size mannequin depictions of people in hiding within its cramped confines, representing a stop on their harrowing journey to escape enslavement, one fraught with peril and risk of capture at any turn, even north of the Mason-Dixon Line.

It turned out my mom had been looking for us outside along Baltimore Street, but we had come in from the road that ran behind the tavern instead and did not initially cross paths. Once reunited, it wasn’t long before a woman dressed in colonial attire summoned us all to follow her and seated us in the main dining room, which had a cozy, refined atmosphere with low-lit overhead fixtures and wooden tables adorned with blue and white dinnerware and candlesticks sheathed in hurricane glass.

We enjoyed the hearty tavern fare and good conversation, a highlight of which was when my dad dropped his voice to an awed whisper to tell us, “This is the oldest house in Gettysburg.” According to the tavern’s website, the house was built in 1776 and was the home of Reverend Alexander Dobbin and his family. Guided tours of the house are available for those looking to delve deeper into the home’s history as well as that of the Dobbin family. We, however, opted only to dine on this visit.

While at dinner, we established some plans to take a bus tour of the battlefield and visit the Gettysburg National Military Park Museum and Cyclorama the next day. After finishing our meal, we all headed back to the hotel and turned in for the night to decompress from the long drive and to get some rest. While the room was very comfortable, I won’t pretend like I wasn’t a little worried I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find the ghost of a civil war soldier hovering by the foot of the bed. Pushing my irrational fears of phantom soldiers aside, I slept well and, needless to say, my worries did not materialize.

I’ve been to many a historic place with my family, but we frequented Gettysburg more than others and because of this, I’ve always known that it holds a unique sort of charm for people fascinated by American history- and rightly so. The streets of the town and its surrounding farms, fields, and woods were, after all, the site of the bloodiest battle fought on American soil.

The bus tour was fine. In hindsight, we should have done the museum first and then the tour, so that’s on me for booking our combo tickets in the wrong order. Personally, I think I would opt for a self-guided driving tour next time due to personal humiliation reasons. Our guide made lots of attempts at jokes that didn’t really land and it felt like being in some mobile, history class detention where the punishment was rapid-fire, pop quiz questions asked aloud at random, for which you paid $46 for the study material, but it didn’t arrive on time.

I’ll explain further. To my horror, I was called on by the tour guide as we stood overlooking Oak Hill and Ridge, after he gave a scenario during which my mind inconveniently wandered. I’ll relive it for you all now in hopes of processing it better myself.

“Cape May!” barked the guide, “What’s your name?”

“Beth,” I said, knowing I’d answered that question correctly, at least, as my panic began to rise. I instantly regretted wearing a hat with words on it, wondering just what on Earth he had been saying a few moments ago.

“What do you do if you’re the leader of the Confederate Army in this situation?”

One- I got nothin’. I completely froze and forgot how to speak and was very quickly turning into a Jersey tomato.

Two- Such a scenario would never happen in real life both due to my own moral compass and my leadership inexperience.

Three- Mike piped up behind me with the helpful suggestion of, “Free the slaves,” which I concluded was the only correct answer, regardless of what the guide was actually looking for.

The real answer was apparently “shoot”, but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you the context behind it.

After the bus tour was over, I buried my recent tussle with shame deep down with all the other fun stuff and we grabbed a quick lunch at the cafe in the Visitor’s Center. Next, we queued up for our timed entry to The Gettysburg Cyclorama film and painting. My mom was most excited for this part and I was eager to see the painting with the intriguing name that she kept mentioning.

The film portion of the experience, narrated by Morgan Freeman, was informative and interesting and provided a summary and timeline of the events and circumstances that led to the start of the American Civil War up through the battle of Gettysburg. It discussed the deeply rooted economic and moral issues upon which the elite of the American south had founded and sustained their fortunes: the issue of “Slave Labor” vs. “Free Labor”, free labor meaning that the laborer was free to earn income from the fruits of their own labor.

After the short film, we were led up to The Cyclorama, a striking, 360 degree painting depicting Pickett’s Charge. The massive oil painting is the work of French cyclorama painter, Paul Philippoteaux, and his team of assistants, and provides a unique insight into the experience of the battlefield on July 3, 1863, the final day of the Battle of Gettysburg. In more recent years, sculptural installations have been added in addition to the accompanying light and audio show and narration to further immerse the viewer in the painting.

The experience of viewing this impressive work will surely move any observer and garner their attention for the scale and chaos of the final day of the bloodiest battle in history fought on American soil that squashed General Lee and the Confederate Army’s final hopes of overtaking the northern states. The artist and his team visited and studied the battlefield nineteen years after the battle took place and gathered information using guidebooks, maps, and interviews with veterans in order to depict the scene with accuracy. If you go to Gettysburg, do not pass up the opportunity to see this incredible piece.

Armed with a visual of the battlefield in action, we headed into the museum. The Gettysburg Foundation website recommends allotting two hours for this museum, but if you are really interested in all of the details, civilian accounts, and original artifacts, it would be wise to allow yourself much more time. A few standouts from the museum for me were:

A photo of Gettysburg taken a few days before the battle, picturing an idyllic, quiet town
General Lee’s modest encampment cot, medical chest, and field desk
Accounts of the days leading up to the battle, the battle itself, and the horrors of its aftermath, heavily left to the Gettysburg civilians to clean up and manage.
The story of Gettysburg’s “Citizen Hero”, John Burns, a veteran of The War of 1812 who followed the sounds of the battle from his porch to join the Union Army and got captured and subsequently released by the Confederate Army
A room dedicated to President Abraham Lincoln’s famed Gettysburg Address, which he finished writing while staying at the David Wills House in Gettysburg off what is now Lincoln Square, before delivering it on the battlefield in November 1863.

Three days in Gettysburg led to an estimated 51,000 casualties across both sides and one civilian death- a young woman named Jennie Wade, who was shot through two doors in her sister Georgia’s kitchen while preparing dough for bread to help feed the Union Army. She was originally buried in the front yard of her sister’s home with the help of Union soldiers, and has since been relocated to the Evergreen Cemetery, the site of Lincoln’s delivery of The Gettysburg Address, and not far from her beau, Jack Skelly.

On our final day in Gettysburg, we revisited some of the sites covered on our bus tour and some, surprisingly not. We drove up to Little Round Top and walked to the lookout to take in the beautiful, sprawling view of the fields and hills below and afar. Below to our left was the outcrop known as Devil’s Den. We walked down the hill to explore there further and vague memories of the place stirred in me at the sight of children running around and playing on and through the boulders. My first memories of Gettysburg from when I was a little kid involve climbing on cannons with my cousins and sister and wanting McDonalds. And they’d let that kid lead the Confederate Army? I don’t think so.

Gettysburg will play tricks on you. At times, it can be easy to forget that you are standing on what is essentially a sprawling cemetery because it is a place full of natural beauty, not to mention it has also been heavily influenced by commercial tourism over the years. But then there are moments when the picture becomes clearer: when you can imagine the drums and the cannon fire, the shots and the battle cries of soldiers charging ahead into uncertain fates, where you can smell the stench of fear and overwhelming loss in the air, see the grass stained purple with hot blood, soldiers and civilians collecting the fallen in the aftermath, following the muffled utterances of the wounded still holding on.

There is never a monument far to remind visitors of the immense sacrifice on both sides during this battle. Our tour guide told us that Gettysburg is one of the most decorated battlefields in the world and that wherever monuments were erected indicated where those soldiers fought during the battle. It was sobering and weighty as I knew it would be and I’m glad we went back together.

For our last stop on our trip, we visited the grounds of President Eisenhower’s farm. The house was closed for the season, but strolling around between the buildings and the helipad ended our trip on a lighter note than the image of craggy entrapment that Devil’s Den conjured up for me. I remember writing a book report on President Eisenhower in the fourth grade and I’ll just say that I didn’t do very well on it. I hope you will enjoy this post more than Ms. Masters enjoyed my book report. This concludes my Pennsylvania posts, so mourn or celebrate that as you will and, as always, thanks for reading.

Cozy Posts · Travel

December on the Banks of the Delaware

December 3, 2023November 21, 2024 Beth DeFries3 Comments

I overpacked for a journey to the past this weekend, but I have no regrets. Our adventure (and our little car) took us across the state to Stockton, NJ, where we decided to treat ourselves to a weekend of luxurious relaxation at The Woolverton Inn. The inn, housed in a pretty, stonework, manor house originally built as a two-story farmhouse in 1792, drew us in with its online photos that captured its elegant pastoral charm, hearty breakfasts, and cozy rooms with lavish soaking baths and in-room fireplaces.

I packed for the weekend, abandoning my typical restraint with the aim of being as cozy as possible while away from home. My suitcase graciously accommodated my uncharacteristically maximal decisions as I stuffed it full with cozy sweaters and flannels, warm loungewear, and my plush bathrobe. The zipper of my toiletry bag was tested with the addition of a large bottle of rosemary and mint bubble bath, and we even prepared an additional bag of sweet indulgences to make our retreat all the more enjoyable.

After loading up the car, we began our journey west in a gray drizzle, with a stop planned at Readington Brewery. The brewery did not disappoint and was replete with cozy warmth and rustic charm. We shared a flight of four beer samples, seated at a picnic table beside a Christmas tree, inside the brewery’s bright, spacious tasting room, sheltered from the chill and damp outside beneath its high, warm-toned wooden ceiling.

After closing out our tab, we continued on toward Stockton, the daylight fading from gray to muted periwinkle. We pulled into the cobbled and gravel driveway of the Woolverton at twilight and hurried across the stone entry path to the front door. We were greeted by a friendly staff member, Janet, who checked us in and led us on an informative tour of the inn and our room. Janet was very knowledgeable about the inn and its history and I was fascinated to learn that Julia Child and her husband, Paul, were married on the property’s stone patio back in 1946 when the manor house was still a private residence. Janet also explained that fresh baked cookies were put out in the dining room by three p.m. each afternoon and that a supply of coffee, tea, and cocoa were always available before directing our attention to a glass decanter of Dubliner Whiskey with Honey, available for guests to help themselves to a tipple or a nightcap if they were so inclined, which of course, we were.

Janet led us to our room, Amelia’s Suite, the original master suite from the time of the house’s earliest construction in 1792 and I immediately felt like a lucky house guest of the Honourable Phryne Fisher as my gaze wandered around, scanning the comfortable environs, thoughtfully decorated and enclosed with ornate Chinoiserie wallpaper in red and beige hues.

Janet left us and we settled into our room. I allowed my suitcase to breathe and explored our accommodations, taking a few photographs for this post. We went back downstairs to sample the mouthwatering homemade chocolate chip cookies, to choose our breakfast time for the next morning, and to pour ourselves each a taste of the whiskey. After relaxing in the room for a bit, we braved the rain and made the slightly harrowing drive across Center Bridge to the Pennsylvania side of the river, following the slightly flooded, dark, winding road to New Hope in search of dinner.

After spending unanticipated time figuring out parking for the municipal lot vs. the street (street is the way to go, if you can find a spot), we escaped the rain and opted to sit at the bar in a snug tavern called The Salt House where the bartender was very attentive and accommodating. We each ordered a whiskey cocktail, Mike opting for an Old Fashioned, and I for something called All The Buzz.

We sipped our drinks and ordered some hearty fare, taking our time, talking, eating, and drinking, elbow to elbow with the bar counter’s other patrons. After dinner, we explored the shining streets of New Hope in the rain, passing by the sleeping small businesses and shops. I pointed out to Mike Bucks County Playhouse where I used to participate in high school theater competitions and we chatted about how I was finding the town much more enjoyable this time around without the lurking stress of competition and sometimes a scarcity of friends to share the day with.

We returned to Stockton via the New Jersey side of the river and passed through the quaint village that was home to our weekend lodgings. The confines of Stockton were pretty and festive, some buildings and streets decorated with Christmas lights and decorations.

We headed back up to our suite at The Woolverton, looking forward to a luxurious soak in the bath after our adventures in the rain. I made sure to add a plentiful amount of bubbles to water as the tub filled and enjoyed the soothing fragrance of rosemary and mint and warm sips of Maker’s Mark while lounging in the hot bath, once again reminiscent of Kerry Greenwood’s 1920s Melbourne upper society lady detective, Miss Fisher.

The only item I forgot to bring that would have ensured a night of proper sleep during our stay was my pillow. I am, shall we say, a very particular sleeper. At home, I have a memory foam pillow and at The Woolverton, I did not. I think most normal people would be able to adjust to the change quite easily, but I had some difficulty. I am not sure if I could have requested a firmer pillow from the inn’s staff the next day, as I did not do so, but if you do plan to visit and are as particular a sleeper as I am, perhaps arrange with the inn’s staff ahead of time to accommodate such a preference or bring your own.

The next morning, we headed down to the enclosed, heated porch for our breakfast of piña colada scones, fresh fruit, eggs, potatoes, and salad. I helped myself to coffee in the dining room and we each enjoyed a glass of orange juice. We planned our day a bit better over our meal and decided to take a twenty-minute drive down the New Jersey bank of the Delaware to visit Washington Crossing State Park, making sure to say a quick hello to The Woolverton’s resident sheep in their paddock on the property on the way to our car.

We were one of three cars in the Visitor’s Center lot at the park and enjoyed perusing the museum’s collection of Revolutionary War artifacts and artwork depicting historical scenes from the era. We then took advantage of the dry weather and embarked on a short hike around the park’s muddy trails, starting out on the Continental Lane trail, following in the footsteps of the Continental Army as they began their historic 9-mile march to Trenton, NJ on December 26, 1776, after crossing the half frozen Delaware on Christmas Night, in pursuit of carrying out General Washington’s plan of a surprise attack on the Hessian mercenaries stationed in what would later become New Jersey’s capital.

Our hike took us down to the Ferry Site on the New Jersey side where a replica of of a wooden ferry was on display in the grass beside the whitewashed, stone Nelson House, which was not constructed yet at the time of Washington and the Continental Army’s historic crossing.

We hiked back to the car and continued our outdoor adventures, heading back up 29 to Lambertville. We wound our way up to the parking lot for Goat Hill Overlook, heeding the posted, yellow, warning signs advising that copperhead snakes had been sighted in the area and that they only attack if disturbed. I was a little bit afraid as we made our way up the path that was laden with copper-colored leaves, but we made our way unscathed to the viewpoint and were rewarded with a pretty, albeit foggy, view of the Delaware River and New Hope below.

We noticed our growing hunger as we headed back to the parking lot, careful not to trod on any leaf-sheathed copperheads, of which we saw none, and made our heading The Dubliner on the Delaware in New Hope for lunch and a couple of pints. I opted for a Half and Half – a combination of Harp and Guinness, which Mike reminded me to photograph for this post as well as a delicious lamb stew, which he did not.

Our day continued with a much needed nap at the Woolverton and then a festive trip to Peddler’s Village in Lahaska, PA to view the their attraction of one million holiday lights. I have never seen Peddler’s Village so crowded, and think perhaps it was due to Saturday night being the only night to escape the weekend’s rainy forecast. We perused a few of the shops and bought a couple of puzzles, forgoing a couple others that captured our attention, due to their staggering piece-count

We escaped the crowds of Peddler’s Village in search of dinner in Lambertville and opted to go to Under the Moon Cafe for some tapas. We ordered a couple of appetizers, a turkey vegetable soup special and some sliders with San Marzano tomato sauce as well as a Tapas Tower of skirt steak, shrimp, and Manchego with pears. We ended our delicious meal with a sweet tres leches cake before heading back to The Woolverton to repeat our rosemary mint soak and Maker’s Mark nightcap from the night before.

We ended our weekend at The Woolverton with breakfast in our suite. Mike opted for heuvos rancheros and I for coffee and French toast with berry compote and real maple syrup. We packed up our things and checked out of our suite, heading out into the rain to make our way home, taking with us the souvenir of the fond memories of our step back in time.