A Call to Adventure
Before Covid struck, I was on what felt like a nonstop ride around the world. It took but a single, solo, impromptu trip to Brussels, Salzburg and Vienna in 2018 to make every destination on the map feel like it was suddenly within reach. I felt both liberated and justified to see the world at my own pace, on my own budget and with my own taste. I found myself feeding an irrepressible hunger to see even more of this world at any and every opportunity I could finagle. And as it turns out, when I set my mind to something … I’m a pretty damn good finagler. I would find myself untethered in Copenhagen, Paris and Serbia. I would take once unattainable trips with friends and family to the Amalfi Coast, Argentina, Singapore and The Maldives. I would embark on incredible work adventures in London, Milan, Turin, Geneva, France and Amsterdam.
And then it all came to a screeching unsettling and uncertain halt in March of 2020. My trips to Columbia, Turkey, Tokyo and Cape Town would all be cancelled. For the time being, the big windows in my new sundrenched condo would have to suffice for seeing the world which only seemed to further shrink in on itself with every passing day and headline.
Skipping out ahead to healthier, happier times, when the skies started to open up again in 2021, I wasted no time jumping back into the role of an untethered traveler. Without shame, permission or regret I booked back-to-back-to-back solo endeavors. I have never been one to indulge half-heartedly as my enthusiasm for anything I love to do…or shop… or eat… always gets the best of me to excess. I’ve seen it play out again and again with scoops of Gelato, slices of Basque cheesecake, Moroccan rugs, handbags, earrings and most definitely - Negronis. I’m a decisive, self-prescribed maximalist and if I had a personal maxim, it would be life’s too short for single servings!
The stars aligned – as did my Bonvoy points and chances for an upgrade to business class – around three European destinations - Croatia, Venice and Berlin. From the three, I had only been to Venice way back in 2004 for all of 36 hours. I was excited to go back and even wondered if I might see a less congested, overrun Venice this go round – cruise ships had just been banned from entering Venice’s historic center and the impact of Covid on travel hadn’t subsided yet. As it turns out, Venice in October, even a recovering from Covid Venice in October – was just as crawling with overeager, selfie-snapping tourists as ever. Croatia on the other hand was open and lively but much more manageable and subdued.
At seven days, Croatia would be my longest solo trip yet. What Croatia proved to me beyond any doubt was I could travel solo without getting the least bit bored. Four years later, I would stretch seven days into twenty-one in Asia and do a three-week-set all over again just a month later in Spain. The most common question or comment I get about traveling on my own, and it’s a fair and recurring one is, do I get bored? The answer is no. Never. Let me explain why.
Imagine for a moment, we have an opportunity to align our precious free time with our hard-earned dollars and a persistent craving - be that to relax, heal, escape, learn, shop ‘til we drop…any craving will do here for purposes of illustration. As that craving gets stronger, we finally decide to seize said opportunity answering the call to adventure instead of smothering it under our typical excuses, stall tactics and but what ifs. Now imagine what it might feel like to truly call the shots in this situation, to direct our time, resources and “why” toward moving our way with our taste. This sense of empowerment washes over even the most indecisive among us. For all travelers, there is hope if there is a beating heart in their chest. When we listen to that heart and what it pulls us toward, we embark on a journey that is not only untethered from noise, societal pressure and self-imposed restriction, we embark on a journey of self-discovery lit up by taste-led intent. Listen, Let Go and Go.
Back in September 2021, I won’t pretend that I was traveling so much with intent as I was with desperate wanting for escapism and restoration. I set up base camp at the Westin in Split. It was a little outside of town on a small rocky beach. The property was nice enough, but the distance was a bit of a drag and for that reason I won’t pretend to have felt as strong of a connection with Split as I likely could have. I ended up spending the majority of my time in Split at its ferry terminal sailing first to Hvar for a daytrip and then to Dubrovnik and Korčula for a couple night getaway down the coast.
Dubrovnik felt like a fairy tale and as a Game of Thrones devotee it was pretty spectacular to see the city both for the amazing destination it was and as Kings Landing, a setting so integral to the plot of GOT. Walking along its big imposing walls and its more quaint cobblestone streets, it was easy to forget the rest of the world even existed. It felt as if I’d been transported to another time, that I’d been swept away into one of George R. R. Martin’s contorted, twisty, intricate plots. How many other visitors over the centuries had once been as awe-struck as I was by this city’s towering, majestic beauty? I felt a deep sense of gratitude that life had allowed me to experience a place of such exceptional grandiosity.
The sundeck at Dubrovnik’s Hotel Excelsior was nothing short of epic and the hotel’s views of the sea are still etched into my brain. I had a perfect dinner at Nautika dining through the setting sun until the shimmering of the moon and stars lit the world around my table just so… deepening the shadows of the ancient buildings around me and spotlighting the white caps of the waves just before they crashed to shore. Try as they might, there isn’t a cinematographer on earth that could capture what hung in the air that evening. I would leave Dubrovnik willingly and fully under its spell.
Korčula was a last minute add to my itinerary. Call it instinct, impulse, excess, I just knew in my heart of hearts when we passed this island on the way to Dubrovnik I needed to make a stopover. While I was there less than 24 hours, I made every effort I could not to waste a single minute. I had a lovely lunch on a charming rooftop at Konoba Adio Mare, memorialized my uncharacteristic spontaneity to stop here by purchasing a 10x10 oil of the Dalmatian Islands at Vapor Gallery, and stumbled upon two outstanding jewelry shops where I bought three pairs of earrings that I still wear regularly to this day.
Hvar wasn’t part of the original plan either. It wasn’t until I spoke to a friend who recommended I go for the day that I even paid it any attention. Looking back now, this both infuriates and terrifies me. What type of research was I doing that this magnificent, stunning island wasn’t top of my itinerary? It’s in these hard on myself moments that I learn the most about how to show up better and smarter for the next trip. For the record, Hvar is one of the most amazing islands I have ever been to. I cannot wait to go back. It is quaint, full of rich flavor and texture and dripping in cinematic presence and allure.
My day in Hvar started off strong and delicious with breakfast at Fig. Honestly, this was one of the best breakfasts I’ve had in the world, and I can still taste it. Spoiler alert – it makes me love Hvar even more! I spent the morning walking the old town before settling in at Beach Club Hvar to take in the blue skies and sunshine. It was a decadent way to slow down time as best I could and peacefully pass a few hours before it was time to sit down for an early dinner at Dalmatino. Not only was the food fantastic at Dalmatino the service was spectacular. It’s one thing for the mechanics of a meal to run smoothly but another altogether to have a memory years later steeped in feeling welcome and seen – taken care of, really. That would be a feeling that would wash over me time and time again in Korčula, Dubrovnik and Split. Undeniably, I fell in love with Hvar, but the people of Croatia hold a special place in my heart too.
I have no doubt I will be back in Hvar one day. Just thinking about it inspires one of those long exhales as a daily routine takes shape in front of me. I would start every morning at Fig, then wander along without agenda through the maze of streets shopping each and every one of Hvar’s artisan boutiques like the Isola Artisan Store where I bought the coolest spikey ceramic bowl in 2021. As I wander, I deploy all five senses to experience the flavors and smells of the kitchens and cafes as I pass. In the afternoons, I read from a bench on a cliff perched above the bluest part of the Adriatic Sea. Just as the sun starts to set, I dine on more warm Croatian service, fresh risotto and seafood complemented by glass after glass of local Croatian wine.
And then… my air conditioner jostles on abruptly stirring me from the daydream. But I’m not ready to surrender to reality. I let my shoulders soften even more, my eyes close as I give myself full permission to go all the way back to Hvar now. I feel such a powerful pull back to this island. I know there is more life to be lived here and when I finally open my eyes again for just the slightest touch of a second, I feel like I never left.
