Oh, Miami… I wish I would have done right by you. I briefly mentioned in a previous blog (“The Eternal Optimist”), how my trip to Miami Beach was solo-travel before I really knew how to solo-travel properly. It was a timid attempt at independence. The trip wasn’t a complete disaster; I did enjoy my time in there, but the problem is that it could have been so much more. The silver lining is that I certainly learned a few travel lessons from this particular adventure.
I’ll start from the beginning:
Two years ago, I was working in a spa as a front desk supervisor. I was stressed and in desperate need of a break. One of my coworkers had just gone on a solo trip somewhere tropical and was raving about how nice it was to just hang out on the beach all day. I was sold. For the next few weeks after, I researched where I could go within my budget. After much deliberation and research, I landed on Miami Beach, FL. I flew out of O’Hare and landed in Miami in the evening, where I took a hotel shuttle to Newport Beachside Hotel & Resort. The hotel was technically in Sunny Isles Beach, FL, which is just North of Miami Beach. This was my first mistake. I was pretty far away from the action in Miami Beach and South Beach; it was a 45 minute bus ride between the two.
When I arrived at the hotel, I was hungry from a day full of travel, so I hunkered down in the hotel room and ordered room service for dinner. I got coconut shrimp and fries, which I enjoyed in my PJs from the comfort of the queen-sized bed in my room. When I finished the food, I was instructed to place the tray outside the door, where it would be picked up. I took the tray outside, while the door to my room abruptly closed behind me, locking me out. I had to walk to the front desk for a new key in my teeny tiny pajama shorts and tank top, my face flushed with embarrassment. The front desk staff were nice enough to act like it happened all the time, but I scurried back to my room with my head down. Once I was in, I decided to call it a night.
The next day, I woke up early and enjoyed a cup of coffee out on the pool deck. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day, and I was quick to get into my swimsuit and sit out on the beach. What I was most wanting from this vacation was to lay out in the sun, read, and sip cocktails. I certainly accomplished that, but not much else. Also on the first day in Miami, I did indeed take the bus to Miami Beach, where I walked around aimlessly for a couple of hours.
The main drag is Collins Avenue, where I popped in and out of the same stores I could find in Chicago. I also wandered over to Espanola Way, a twinkling light filled cultural hub full of great restaurants. I chose Oh Mexico Restaurant for dinner for its al fresco dining. After ordering myself a mango margarita and an entrée that I can’t remember, I snacked on the chips 
and salsa that were on the table. Right off the bat, I started coughing in full force due to swallowing a large bit of chip whole. My eyes were watering, my hands had the table in a death grip, and I could see the waiter in my peripheral, deciding whether or not I needed the Heimlich. Once I got myself under control, my eyes continued to water as I ate my meal. I desperately hoped that no one around me thought I was some sad girl eating dinner by herself, but could sense some pity coming at me. Needless to say, I paid my bill and got out of there as soon as I finished eating (food first, always). I went off in search of a bar to prove to the Miami citizens that I knew how to behave properly in public.
It was twilight by the time I made my way towards a wine bar I had spotted earlier. I walked down a side street, turned a corner and found myself walking down a scarcely populated sidewalk. Coming towards me was a tall, scraggly man, swaying a little as he walked. The sight made me want to cross the street and find a new destination. I told myself to keep walking confidently onward, that I was being paranoid, but as he approached his eyes locked onto me. As we passed each other, he lurched towards me. Whether it was deliberate or not, I don’t know; I dodged him and speed walked away. I high-tailed it to the bus stop, where I frantically called my friend. “I just got attacked!” I squeaked. Though this wasn’t the case, I still worked myself into a frenzy over what had just transpired. I bussed back to the hotel and stopped into the hotel bar to calm my over-dramatically frayed nerves. There, I met an older gentleman who I chatted with throughout the rest of the evening. He had hinted at meeting up the next day, which is when I worked into the conversation that I was in Miami with my mom, who was upstairs sleeping in our shared room. This, of course, was untrue, but I clung to the lie like a safety blanket against a clearly harmless and charming man. Why was I being an overcautious jerk, you might ask? Because I grew up believing there was a stigma that travelling alone as a women could equal danger; such a rookie mistake. If anything, my travels since then have shown me that many people you meet while traveling are friendly and solidly good.
In any case, the next day I did not meet up with my new casual acquaintance. I did, however, get drunk on the beach, on Sex on The Beaches no less. In the afternoon, I attempted to find a paddle board rental joint that I had 
heard about from the concierge. I didn’t find it, in fact, I got a little lost and wound up just going back to the hotel instead of asking for help or hailing a cab. My misadventure and the fact that my big solo vacation was shaping up to be a little uneventful caused me to have a little pity party in my hotel room.
I got it together eventually, and decided to treat myself to a lobster dinner in the hotel restaurant, Kitchen 305. As I was sat at my table for one, the waitress came over to take my drink and promptly said “aww, honey is it just you tonight?” Umm, yes, yes it is, and if your goal was to make me order three more drinks than I was going to, mission accomplished. I ordered my lobster dinner, which also came with a salad and bread and perhaps a side dish.
When the lobster arrived, I stared at it dumbfounded. It was a whole lobster, which I had never experience before. Lobster tail, yes. Lobster roll, yes. A whole lobster…what the heck do you do with it? I took a picture of it and sent it to my dad, an avid seafood lover, with this message “HELP! I don’t know what to do with this! Which part am I supposed to eat?” I cut into the top of the lobster and green goo flowed out. I turned my plate around and cut into the tail. I ate what little meat I could scavenge from the little guy and then filled up on bread. I left a big tip and walked out of the restaurant feeling a little bit defeated. It was my last night in Miami, and I spent the rest of it drinking PBR and brooding by myself on the pool deck.
The next morning, I woke up early to catch the sunrise. I walked along the beach, taking pictures, and I noticed what seemed to be ocean wildlife washed up all along the shore. The majority of the creatures looked like clear, blue empanadas with tentacles. One of the men cleaning up the shore line in front of the hotel told me not to touch them, they were Portuguese Man of War. They were closing the beaches to swimmers that day due to an overabundance of these little death empanadas. That was my queue to head back to Chicago. I took another airport shuttle back to Miami International Airport, where I was delayed for three hours before finally making it back home.
I was a little bit ashamed of this trip for a while afterwards. I felt like I should have made more out of this trip, should have explored more, should have ventured out more fearlessly. Retelling the story now, I see that a big part of the problem was attitude. I was too easily overcome by any obstacle that I faced. Now I know better. But, I still feel a little bit of a pull back to Miami, to redeem myself for my previous lackluster visit.
something else last minute. We wound up at The Country Inn and Suites which was tragically far away from the downtown area. Now let me preface my limited review on this hotel by saying, I am not a hotel snob. I don’t mind staying at budget hotels and I enjoy staying at hostels, but my first instinct when I walked into our hotel room was to 
run directly back to Chicago. There were stains on the carpet, scuffs on the walls, the bathroom was questionable, the GD curtains were torn! Come on Country Inn, have a little pride! The room did have a few good points, which included a coffee maker in the room, great water pressure in the shower and an individually wrapped make-up remover towlette, which was a very thoughtful touch. We beautified ourselves for the wedding and inquired about a taxi service in the area. The front desk agent handed us a business card and told us it would be about $10 for the ride into downtown. Wrong. It was actually double that. BUT it was worth every penny because the cab driver turned out to 
be our personal concierge. He gave us tons of advice on where to go out after the wedding, where to go for breakfast the next morning, and the maximum level of intoxication that they would allow at the casino across from the wedding venue. It was great! The wedding was at The Grand River Center, which as its name suggests, is right on the Mississippi River. It had a beautiful
glass wall on the river side, and a stone patio that led out onto the river walk. We spent the cocktail hour out on that patio just taking in the scenery. The Mississippi isn’t the prettiest river, but it is really a sight to behold. The wedding reception was beautiful, as they usually are and we danced and abused the photo booth for a good portion of 
the evening. Earlier on, we had noticed that there was a brewery next door to the venue that looked like it was having some sort of festival with a live band. When there was a lull, we decided to walk over and check it out. And that is how I accidentally crashed a wedding for the first time ever. (Congratulations Travis and Christy! Sorry we barged in on your festivities!)
After the reception ended, we walked over to the Diamond Joe Casino. Surprisingly, they let us in and we hit the slots. I tried my hand at blackjack and won a couple of hands, which I’m sure would have made my grandma very proud. We ended up losing $30 but I guess that’s what we get for gambling while under the influence. We decided to take the 
9 minute walk to the main drag, which was on the other side of the highway, over a bridge. The city looked beautiful. We walked past the hotel we should have stayed at and I instantly vowed to come back solely to stay there; it was gorgeous and grand. We walked to a bar called The Broken Lift, which our concierge cab driver had recommended. It was a music venue/bar in the basement of a restaurant called Vinnie Vanucchi’s. The Broken Lift occupies a cave-
like space with two large rooms and limestone covered walls. I had a John’s Generations White Ale, which was crisp after drinking so much light beer at the wedding. They had an enthralling game in the backroom that involved swinging a metal hoop at a hook on the wall that completely
knowledge of the city and drunken rambling led our cab driver to believe our hotel was in the opposite direction than where it actually was. When we finally made it back to the Country Inn, we tried unsuccessfully to order a late night pizza and then passed out from the effort. The next morning, we checked out early to explore Dubuque a little more before heading home. We took another cue from our awesome cabbie took his recommendation for brunch. All we had written down was Quality Inn, so we plugged it into the GPS and off we went. I was interested to see if it was the same small motel that I thought it was, and as we climbed the hill to our destination, I realized that it was. For one moment, I was very mad at our cab driver for leading us astray. That was until my boyfriend, who is a much better listener than I am, pointed out our actual destination, which shared a parking lot with the motel.
Timmerman’s Supper Club was perched on a bluff which overlooked the river. The décor and architecture were straight out of the seventies with gold chandeliers and wooden bamboo chairs. I loved the atmosphere and look of 
the supper club, but the food on the brunch was just ok. The buffet with many choices, carving stations, omelet stations, and a slew of baked goods. The clientele seemed like they had been coming there for years, there was a familiarity to the crowd that was very comfortable. I would like to revisit Timmerman’s, but maybe for dinner or a fancy supper club drink. Our next stop was the 4th Street Elevator (or the Fenelon Place Elevator), one of the more historic sites in Dubuque.
It used to transport folks to and from their houses on top of the hill and their jobs at the bottom, downtown. We were excited to ride this contraption up and down, however they only took cash and had no ATM so we settled for watching it 
instead. It was only $3.00 roundtrip, and I am kind of bummed we didn’t get a chance to experience it. Another reason to come back, I suppose. I needed another coffee before we drove back to Chicago, so we stopped at Monk’s Kaffee Pub on Bluff Street. It is a coffee bar by day and a bar bar by night. It was such a cozy space, with a dark wooden bar that spanned the length of the front room and mismatched arm chairs and tables 
throughout. The coffee was good too! It was such a nice departure from the coffee shops that I am used to. I would gladly return to enjoy a latte in one of those comfy arm chairs. Our last stop before heading home was a flea market/farmer’s market we spotted by the train tracks. It was interesting to say the least. We parked in the grass and browsed through the card tables and tents. I saw a lot of clip on earrings and dishes and beer signs.
I’d never been inside when it was the Tokyo Hotel, but always passed it and wondered what went on behind its dingy exterior. A month later, there I was checking in at the upscale hostel/hotel. I had walked over after work on Friday; it was just a short jaunt over to the River North Neighborhood. The check-in process was casual and easy, and after a brief orientation of the property, I was on my way up to the tenth floor in a painfully slow elevator. I chose to stay in one of their private rooms, which they offer along with shared and private bunk-bedded rooms.
two small shelves of books ranging from “The Help” to “The Mammoth of Best New Erotica”, as well as a house phone, hotel guide, and a mini bar in an interior cabinet. The blue-tiled bathroom featured a stand-up shower, hairdryer, fluffy
higan Avenue, looking at menus and turning them down, hunger forced us to stop into Doc B’s Fresh Kitchen. Right off the bat, I wasn’t crazy about this decision. It seemed like an upscale TGI Fridays, only without the moderate prices. We sat down and ordered a couple of beers and decided whether or not we should bail. Again, hunger won and we had our beers and a kale and artichoke dip which was good in the way that artichoke dip always is. After we paid, we walked back up to Michigan Avenue just in time to finally be summoned to The Purple Pig because our table was ready. We were sat at a table inside and immediately made work of reading and translating their extensive menu of share plates.
The Chorizo Stuffed Olives, Whipped Feta Dip, and Pork Belly Rillon looked best to us. They brought each dish out separately, which made for optimal enjoyment. We started with the feta, which was served with thick slices of delicious bread. The feta had cucumbers and peppers brunoise on top and was so tasty. For me, there is literally nothing better than cheese and bread so of course I loved this dish. Next came the olives, which were a little too salty for me, but my boyfriend very much enjoyed them. Finally, the Pork Belly Rillons, which were the perfect mixture of crispy and melt in your mouth. I only wish the serving was bigger.
After we finished the decadent dinner, we walked the few blocks across the river and walked down the steps to the River Walk. The brightly lit river-adjacent sidewalk was vibrant and teeming with the after-dinner crowd. We walked down a-ways and doubled back to pop into The Hideout for a beer.
There was an extravagant process to making it that ended with lighting the garnish on fire with a blowtorch. It was a hefty portion of booze worthy of two cocktails and priced accordingly. The bar was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. The bartenders were very attentive and continued to craft creative cocktails without the pretension of other “mixologists”. We spent a good amount of time enjoying the cozy atmosphere of The Broken Shaker before retiring to our room for the night.
Part of the beauty of a staycation is that every new thing that you discover and enjoy is easily accessible for revisiting. And I plan to go back to Café Integral often, specifically for the Avocado Smash.
Before we checked out, I wanted to explore the basement of the hotel, which is where the guest laundry and kitchen was located. The kitchen was brightly lit and happily buzzing with a few other guests preparing their meals. In addition to these in house amenities, The Freehand offers an activity calendar for their guests including workouts, walking tours, and other special events much like the pop-up gallery my friend was featured in.
We left the hotel at noon, after walking around and popping into a few shops in the area. We walked the two miles back to our apartment, across the river and over the line that separates blissful staycations and real life.
A fun, upbeat playlist is essential to any road trip! My trip is going to be around 10 hours from Chicago to Asheville, so I’m working on the ultimate mish mosh of tunes that I can sing along to. I’ve already started on my Road Trip playlist, but it needs a lot more work to try to fill that time slot. Also, because the drive is on the longer side, I’m also playing with the idea of getting a book on tape from the library to help pass the time (any suggestions??).
I know it will be hot in Asheville, and I’ve already started to put aside some hot weather clothes to pack. I also know I will bring too much, as per usual. But, that’s part of the beauty of a road trip: no checked baggage fees! Everything that I have set to bring on this trip already is hoarded on my desk at the moment. In a couple of days I’ll have to get it together and put everything into my suitcase and backpack to be ready to go. Because I am prone to forgetting things when I pack, I always make a checklist beforehand to limit the things left behind.
I have been doing some light research on the local attractions and dining options, but I need to figure out my must see/eat places. I don’t like to go in to a trip with a completely planned out itinerary, but I do like to make a small list of things I absolutely want to accomplish while I’m there. Currently at the top of my list are The Biltmore Estate, The Orange Peel, Chimney Rock, and exploring downtown Asheville. I like to use google maps to see which attractions are close to others so I can lump them in together in one day. I am working with three days to enjoy an amazing city with a lot of activities to choose from so a girl’s gotta have priorities.
While I am fairly confident in my driving abilities, and fully confident in my ability to take care of myself, there will always be ways to limit any travel safety risks. I am putting together an emergency kit for the car, which will include: first aid supplies, jumper cables, pepper spray, and an atlas in case Google maps fails me. I also am bringing along a door stop, a tip that I stole from the 
Over the next few days, I’ll (hopefully) have a good handle on all these things. I am so excited to be on my way, and I can’t wait to tell you all about Asheville when I get back.
entered the Visitor Center only to grab a map and hit the restrooms before we began our hike. Originally, we wanted to hike up to the Lodge first, to get some lunch and figure out which hikes we wanted to do. What actually happened was we wound up on the Wildcat Canyon overlook trail. The paths were muddy due to days of rain prior to our visit, and my Chuck Taylors proved to be a poor hiking footwear choice. Actually, my whole outfit was ill-suited to nature and now I know better. Please note that jean shorts are not a great choice for four hours of humid hiking through the forest. What can I say? I’m a city girl. Luckily, the scenery was so gorgeous that I soon forgot my wardrobe woes and was able to focus on the views. We reached the outlook and noticed there were people hanging out in the canyon below, basking in the sunlight and playing beneath the waterfall, with no indication of how they appeared there. I made it my personal mission 
service was prompt and the food was delicious so we overlooked her surly demeanor. After lunch, I stopped at the front desk to inquire about vacancy and room rates. Unfortunately they were completely booked, but the good news is their prices are completely affordable with their standard rooms starting around $100 and their cabins starting at $125 (depending on the season). We vowed to come back and stay in a cabin in the near future. We hiked up to the park’s namesake, the actual Starved Rock, and the stairs up to the overlook were no joke. The view from the top was breathtaking (minus the huge dam that was visible on one side of the Illinois River). The path at the top of Starved Rock wound in a circle, through trees and wildflowers looking lush from the summer rain. We meandered back down the way we came, past other hikers huffing and puffing up the many, many stairs. From there we hiked up to the Lover’s Leap overlook, which offered an amazing view of Starved Rock and the river 
below. It was finally time to complete my mission of the day and find the way into the canyon that we had seen from the trail above. We found the path and made our way along the river to the canyon. We could hear its current visitor’s voices bouncing off the rock face in what could only be described as shouts of glee. When we finally reached Wildcat Canyon, it took some maneuvering to get over to the waterfall, through the water and mud. Once we were finally in the main clearing, I took my shoes off and stuck my feet in the water. It was cloudy with the sand beneath, but cold and refreshing. The waterfall was gorgeous; it flowed into a small pool teaming with happy little hikers. Though the area was crowded, there was a solidarity among the visitors in the canyon; everyone was admiring the view. It was hard to leave such a beautiful place, but it was about that time to head back to the visitors center. Overall, we hiked about five miles through the forest, up and down stairs, and on gorgeous overlook boardwalks. By the time we made it back to the car, I was exhausted, but already planning our next visit. Even with how much we had already explored, there were still so many other paths, overlooks and canyons to see. I’d imagine that not too much time will pass before I’m back for more.
rebeccawanderlusting 