Exceptional Italian Cuisine in Providence’s Federal Hill

Siena Restaurant: Located on a cute street in Providence’s Federal Hill neighborhood.

I don’t usually talk to my seatmates on airplanes. When I’m flying, it’s Gina time. I catch up on reading, magazines, or writing – or more often than not, sleep – and I do my best to avoid getting stuck in the clenches of a chatty person sitting next to me. This means I pretty much never start up a conversation with them.

I changed that tune on my recent flight to Providence, Rhode Island. The lady sitting next to me and her husband beside her slept most of the way (my type of flyer), but we’d exchanged a few remarks and giggles the few times she woke up because the people in the rows around us could not sit still. Someone was getting up every two minutes to get something out of an overhead bin or go to the bathroom or to do seemingly nothing except make the people around them move.

“I have never been on a flight where people get up so much!” she explained in half annoyance, half awe.

I laughed. “I know! I don’t know what’s going on.”

She went back to sleep and I went back to working. Later, she woke up again and we bonded over having the same cuddly scarf from The Gap and how perfect it was for traveling.

By the time the announcement came over the intercom that electronics needed to be put away I found myself wanting to talk to this nice lady who let me work peacefully for most of the flight.

“Are you guys from Providence?” I asked.

They were, and striking up a conversation with her was one of the smartest travel decisions I’ve made in awhile. Not only was she totally sweet, she gave me a restaurant recommendation leading me to the best Italian meal I’ve had in a long time.

The meal was at Siena Restaurant.

I was meeting my mom in Providence and told her how this lady had raved about Siena Restaurant. A quick Yelp search proved she was not alone in her fondness for the restaurant. Mom and I arrived at the hotel at 5:45pm. I called Siena at 6pm. It was a Wednesday so I figured we’d still be able to get in.

“I can fit you in at 6:30,” the hostess responded to my request to make a reservation around 7:30 or 8.

Packed on a Wednesday night? Already a good sign. I agreed to 6:30 and told my mom we had to get ready fast.

Siena Restaurant is located in the Little Italy part of Providence known as Federal Hill along a stretch of street with colorful buildings and old world charm. Siena Restaurant is housed in a small building and manages to punch in a lively bar area with a relaxing Tuscan-inspired back room all in one small space. We were in the front of the restaurant meaning we got to sit by the lively bar as opposed to the peaceful Italian oasis in the back, but being Italian, my mom and I didn’t mind the loud talking and shouting.

The Tuscan chateau ambiance of Siena’s back room.

“Isn’t this fun?” Mom asked as we sat down. “Everyone sounds so loud and Italian.” They sounded slightly Jersey to me, but this is why I love traveling with my mom. She gets excited over everything. It’s a good travel mentality to have. And she can find the Italian in everything. Not that that was hard to do in Siena Restaurant.

Siena is owned by two Italian brothers, Anthony and Chris. Anthony’s the chef and Chris runs the front of the house. Their family is from Siena and Siena is also the middle name of one their daughters, hence the restaurant’s moniker. Anthony trained to become a chef in Bologna, Italy, which made it easy for Mom and me to choose the first entrée we’d split – the Tagliatelle alla Bolognese. We just had to decide on the other one, and an appetizer.

Our server, Erin, was friendly and upbeat and surprisingly not hoarse (at least not yet) from having to talk loudly over all the east coast accents going on over at the bar. She was an expert on the menu.

“Is the gnocchi homemade?” I asked. I wasn’t really planning on getting the gnocchi, but I’ve discovered if an Italian restaurant doesn’t make its gnocchi from scratch, it’s probably not going to be very good.

She said it was, as was the pasta from that day’s special. Mom liked the sound of the special, which was pasta mixed in truffle cream sauce with mushrooms, shrimp and prosciutto and the added bonus of two cheeses: mascarpone and parmesan.

So we ordered that along with the Involtini di Melanzane as an appetizer.

The appetizer arrived and not only was it a sight to behold, it was amazingly delicious. The Involtini de Melanzane is pan-fried eggplant rolled with prosciutto and ricotta cheese. It is then baked in the oven and covered in marinara sauce. It was pretty much awesome. I’m not even an eggplant fan, but I was drooling for more. The prosciutto gave the vegetable a salty kick and the marinara sauce was the perfect blend of olive oil and tomatoes. It was delicious.

The Involtini de Melanzane appetizer. (Plus, isn’t the plate pretty?)

Next came the entrees.

Despite being the signature dish of Siena Restaurant, the Tagliatelle alla Bolognese was one of the few dishes that did not come with homemade pasta due to how long it takes to make Tagliatelle from scratch, though the pasta that is used is imported from Italy. The authentic Bolognese sauce made up for it though. A hearty blend of spices mixed with pork, pancetta, sirloin and a touch of cream.

Tagliatelle alla Bolognese

The daily special was the highlight of the meal. The truffle sauce was divine, rich without being overpowering and perfectly matched the taste of the shrimp. Again, the prosciutto added a pleasing salty kick to the meal and the mascarpone and parmesan cheeses just made it all even better (as cheese is prone to do).

The daily special – DELICIOUS!

Siena also serves up Italian pizza and Italian desserts, including my favorite – Tiramisu. In addition to the location in Providence’s Federal Hill, Siena also has a location in East Greenwich, Rhode Island, called Siena Cucina · Enoteca.

Mom and me after we devoured the Tiramisu.

Thanks for reading Siena Restaurant in Providence, Rhode Island

Overcoming Self-Doubt and Frustration to Follow My Dreams

Following my heart to my ideal career path.

I quit my Director of Marketing job earlier this year.

After five years, I felt it was time to move on. It was a job I’d loved ferociously at the beginning, but over the past couple years the joy of it faded. I felt bored, frustrated, and melancholic in my career.

I told myself to suck it up and get out of the funk I was in, but after a year of feeling that way I knew it wasn’t a funk. Still, I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to escape my cubicle so bad.

I was even angry with myself.

I was the Director of Marketing in a role that oversaw most aspects of marketing, social media, and even content (writing had always remained my biggest love) for a travel company. It was what I had always wanted. What I cried myself to sleep over in my early twenties because I wasn’t on the path to that type of career yet, and I wanted it so bad. Then in my mid to late twenties, it happened. I got what I thought was my dream job. For awhile I was insanely happy.

I was one of those annoying people who always talked about how much I loved my job and that I was excited for Mondays.

Then, things changed. There were some internal factors with the job that started to frustrate me, but the main problem was thatI couldn’t stand someone else being in charge of my time.

This was also the case when I started out in the real world after college when dreams of travel and entrepreneurship were all that I thought would make me happy. I thought I’d squashed those (unrealistic and irresponsible so I thought) dreams. But they came slinking back, ready to hit just when I thought I’d gotten my life pretty comfortable and ideal. And once that urge was back, I couldn’t get it to go away, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise.

There’s a recession. You work in the travel industry and get four weeks vacation a year with huge travel discounts – you know how many people would love to have that? You have a team of 12 people under you, you don’t have to do any grunt work anymore – isn’t that what everyone wants? You have a job, period – what’s wrong with you?

I was so mad at myself for feeling this way, and I was in limbo. I halfheartedly started this blog, but I couldn’t see a way out. I didn’t want to leave the travel industry, but there weren’t many marketing travel jobs in southern California and moving from San Diego wasn’t an option at the time. I missed writing, but everyone always said it’s impossible to make a career out of writing. I’d love to do freelance marketing, but how would I ever get any clients? I’d negotiated myself up to a decent salary in the past few years at my job – did I really want to go back to worrying about every dollar I spent?

So many questions. I was stuck.

And then I went to TBEX. And everything changed.

At the TBEX Keystone travel blogger and media conference I realized maybe I could make things happen. Maybe it was ok that I wanted a change. I prepared and did my research and got a couple regular (paid!) writing jobs out of it. I listened closely to how other people made it work – this whole balancing a life of travel with work, and more often than not, turning travel into work. I took notes from all the speakers and was particularly intrigued by Chris from C Around the World, who talked about how she balanced a freelance writing business with her travel blog. Though I was pretty convinced at that point that my freelancing would need to be some marketing to pay the bills, the way she described how she ran her business excited me and I felt it gave me some stepping stones to being serious about starting a freelance business.

I got back full of ideas and ambition. I knew I couldn’t quit my job yet and I didn’t know the end date, but I knew I was no longer stuck.

It took me another few months to get marketing clients (network, network, network – and have a web presence) and I began writing more on my blog. For awhile, I balanced all three, working until the early hours of the morning and dragging myself out of bed a few hours later to get into the office of my “day job” as I began referring to it. Then, a fellow travel blogger who I had a lot of respect for, approached me regarding a business idea and partnership. I was sold and knew then that it was time for something to give – namely, my “day job”. It was time to officially start on the entrepreneurship road. Nothing was a guarantee, there was no steady paycheck, but that excited me. It was time to pursue my true calling – being a writer and being a location-independent entrepreneur.

The location-independent part is important to me. If I want to work from my family’s house in Montana or from a café in Paris, I want to have that flexibility. Since quitting my job, I’ve been to Utah, Boston, Montana, Mexico, Nantucket, and San Francisco. If I’m visiting people or traveling with others, I make it clear before departing that I’ll be working every day. By managing that expectation, working on the road is not a problem. Most people in my life are ambitious so they’re busy working, too, or they accommodate plans while I’m in town around my work schedule.

Thanks to my new location-independent lifestyle, I was able to hang out with my mom and sisters before my sis, Coley, moved to Cambodia.

This type of working would have been nearly impossible when I had my desk job – it’s just not allowed in most office environments. What’s great is I still get to do what I love. Though writing will always be a passion of mine, I love marketing, too. It’s interesting and always evolving. And now that I’m able to have the time to dedicate to both, I’m thrilled. It was a long, sometimes scary road to get to this point, but I knew I’d always regret it if I didn’t try.

So, after careful planning of what I was going to say, I walked into my boss’ office 4 months ago and put in my two weeks notice. It was one of the scariest and best days of my life.

Later that night my husband took me out to my favorite wine bar and we toasted to my new beginnings – really our new beginnings. He no longer had to listen to me whine about my job and there was no way I could have taken this leap of faith into entrepreneurship without his encouragement, support, and tolerance of me typing away on my laptop until the wee hours of the morning every night.

I’m excited to see where things go with Tarnacki Marketing (my marketing firm that focuses on travel and lifestyle brands) and the writing I’m doing through One Day in a City and the other publications I write for. Travelers revel the unknown and exploring, and so far as an entrepreneur I’m reveling that each day could bring something new and exciting for my career. It’s turning out to be more exciting than scary (though I assure you I still have some freak-out days) not knowing what tomorrow brings.

I definitely look at entrepreneurship as a career – one that has me busier than ever, so will still be posting regular articles on this blog about how to balance a career with travel. In my case, to balance it, I had to find something location-independent, but there are many ways to find the right mix for you to have both the career you desire and the traveling you’re itching to do.

If there are any things in particular you’d like to know about balancing your career with travel or starting a business or getting into freelance, or have any other questions, please leave them in the comments. I’d be happy to answer them.

Thanks for reading Why I Quit My Job and Became an Entrepreneur

Experiencing the Nantucket local way of life with my super cool Uncle Dean

The Nantucket lighthouse…getting ready to greet tourists. But not yet.

I visited Nantucket at the beginning of April while the air still had a harsh crispness to it, the flowers weren’t yet in bloom, and the downtown area only had about half of its shops open for business. There were many signs saying “Closed for the Winter, see you next year!” There weren’t any ladies prancing down the cobblestoned streets in Lily Pulitzer dresses with Nantucket Lighthouse baskets dangling from their arms. The beaches were void of people and a frigid wind bit at the cheeks of anyone daring to walk along the shoreline.

Yet I loved it.

Nantucket’s downtown during low season – not a person in sight.

The island was beginning to unfurl itself from a sleepy winter as it prepared for summer and the hordes of tourists that were soon to come, and you could feel the action and excitement beginning to fill the air as restaurants were stepped in once again by crews getting them back into top form, and shops ran one last “everything is 50% off sale” to clear merchandise before bringing in new items for the summer crowds.

I was on the island to visit my Uncle Dean.

I haven’t spent much time on the east coast of America. Growing up all my family’s vacations were to the west coast from Minnesota (or we stuck around the Midwest). So when I got the chance to go to Nantucket recently to visit my uncle and his fiancé with my mom for her birthday weekend I jumped at the chance.

I’m the oldest of four children. I adore my siblings and if you knew my sister, Coley, you would understand why I’ve never fully felt like I was the “oldest” in my family. Despite Coley’s incessant responsibility and poise in the wake of my childhood and teen dramatics, I was still technically the oldest. But unlike most oldest siblings though, I never had to wonder much what it would be like to have an older sibling. My poor Uncle Dean filled that role. I say “poor” because at only three years older than me and five years older than the next round of cousins (all of whom are girls) we were always trying to get in his space and probably tormented him through most of his teenage years, as we all treated him like an older brother and was keen on getting him in trouble at every turn and teasing him about every girl he spoke to. I remember calling him “Brother Dean” instead of “Uncle Dean” much to his annoyance for much of my 9^th or 10^th year of life.

Being only three years older than me (my mom is the second oldest of ten children) I always felt so lucky to have an uncle that was so close to my age – which I used to brag to my friends about.  Well, let’s be honest, I still brag about it, even though my husband can’t seem to grasp the fact that I have an uncle so young.

“So you’re going to Nantucket to visit your cousin?” Tom inquired when it got closer to my departure date.

He’s my uncle!” I shouted. “We’ve been together for four years. Shouldn’t you know this by now?”

“Yes, yes,” Tom agreed. “I just forget sometimes. It’s weird!”

“Not that weird,” I retorted. Hello, Modern Family!?

Ok, my family’s not that modern; my grandparents just had a lot of children.

Much to my glee, my Uncle Dean started dating Kate, who has a great sense of humor and is super sweet to my uncle. She is also a writer, so needless to say, I love talking to her as I feel she actually understands why I keep/love writing.

Kate is also close in age to me so it was wonderful to get to visit her and my Uncle Dean (plus her totally delightful younger sister who also lives in Nantucket) and get a taste of how the locals live on the island. Both Dean and Kate worked in the restaurant industry and that’s what brought them out to Nantucket, a known culinary haven, though recently Kate has transitioned back into writing again. This was the reason my mom and I visited Nantucket a couple weeks before the tourists are due to arrive because once they do, we’d never get to hang out with my uncle while visiting. He’ll be the throes of restaurant life for most of the summer.

In Nantucket, you get to eat gourmet cuisine in adorable places like this.

My Uncle Dean is admirable in that he’s someone who’s lived life his way, sometimes against the grain. These days, he seems to be living a pretty great life living and working as a chef in one of the epicenter’s of the food world, ready to exchange vows with the love of his life. It’s weird because I still remember playing Nintendo in the basement, just wanting his friends and him to think I was cool. (Pretty sure they never did.)

Dean and Kate showed us their favorite parts of the island, plus as foodies they introduced us to some of the most amazing food on the island. Dean, being a chef, also made us a deliciou meal in the charming little bungalow they rent. The food was incredible, but what was even more neat to see was the way the entire community of Nantucket comes together and acts as a small town during the off-season. Everywhere we went on the island, Dean and Kate often saw people they knew. Even if they didn’t know the person, if they were on the island this time of year, everyone treated each other like a neighbor. It warmed my heart and – just like when I visit the town where my mom and uncle grew up – it makes me wonder what I’m doing in massive and unattached southern California.

The brewery on the island is one place locals like to hang out, drink, and play games. It’s a super fun, laidback place in the off-season.

I’m not leaving California, though… at least not anytime soon. So I’m happy to be able to experience this way of life with my uncle and soon to be aunt, the latter of whom grew up on the dynamic east coast.

One of the best parts of visiting my uncle with my mom, though? Seeing the connection that’s between him and my mom. This is an over 20 year age difference, people (dear mom, please don’t be mad at me for mentioning that number) and yet they share a bond that is deep and is so siblingish – that it truly reminds me age is but a number. Dean may be only three years older than me, but he is without a doubt my mom’s brother. And he is, like many of my uncles, someone I look up to and admire. Each of my many uncles I admire in a different way, and in Dean’s case it’s that he followed his heart all the way to the beautiful island of Nantucket, where his cooking is enticing people into the restaurant he works at just as his current home entices many people from all over the world to visit it every summer.

My mom and Dean braving the frigid evening wind to walk on the Nantucket beach. Kate and I decided it was too cold and went back to the car. (What can I say – I’m a California girl now.)

Thanks for reading Visiting Nantucket in the Off Season and My Modern Family

One Day in New Zealand, This Happened…

A Kayaking Trip in Abel Tasman Cut Short by Rocky Waves

At the beginning of the Kayak trip, before we realized everything would NOT be smooth sailing.

The waves were rapidly getting larger. I tried to stay calm as I pushed my paddle through them and hoped Tom was focusing on keeping the kayak straight forward to the waves the way the kayak rental expert said.

Capsizing was not an option.

I looked forward through the spray of the waves, blinking rapidly, and saw a huge wave coming toward us. I was too scared to even open my mouth to shout or alert Tom. I simply gritted my teeth together and prepared for the worst.

The wave hit the front of the kayak hard, lifting the nose up precariously. We rocked briefly on top of the wave, then thudded down with a sickening thump in my stomach. I waited for the water to cover us, holding my breath. Then after another breath I realized we were fine. We weren’t capsized. A smaller wave came toward us right as I heard Tom swear behind me.

“Babe…” I started.

“We need to turn around,” he said, mimicking my thoughts.

“Yes,” I said. No more words were needed.

It had been a long thirty minutes since we’d left the shore after spending the night camping on Anchorage Bay in Abel Tasman. Rain was scattered throughout the night and in the morning, we surveyed the deep bay and it looked choppy, but the board at the Anchorage Bay information point said it was fine.

So, with our kayak rental instructor’s warning of only going outif the waves were manageable, we took off into the bay.

As soon as we left the bay and got into the open sea, the waves quickly became large and…well, very scary. We knew it was a short kayak to the nearby bay of Te Pukatea. We just had to get there, we assured each other, then the conditions would get bigger.

Then, with the last large wave when I was sure we’d capsize,  making it to that bay seemed unattainable.

We paddled back to shore.

Once we hit the sand we climbed out of the kayak and pulled it up farther onto the sand and then sat down, exhausted.

“How often do you think the water taxis come by?” I asked breathlessly as I laid my head on Tom’s shoulder, both of us plopped on the sand.

“I don’t know,” Tom replied. “They made it sound pretty regular.”

With that, we didn’t say anything for awhile, and with one side of my pressed into the sand, I dozed away on Tom’s shoulder. A very short while later I was suddenly woken  by a kiwi accent.

“Is that your kayak down there?” I heard a voice ask as Tom rustled under me.

A smiling woman looked down at us, her blonde-gray hair blowing in the harsh wind. I groggily smiled back, trying to be friendly, while Tom answered. “Yes, we’re waiting out the weather.” He paused. “Or waiting for a taxi.”

“Oh, thank goodnesss,” the woman answered cheerily as she plopped down right next to us. “My husband and I were worried we were the only ones around who weren’t going out in these waves!”

I’d fully woken up by this point. “You guys are worried, too?” I asked. “That makes us happy because we were worried we were just being wimps!”

She settled down more into the sand and shook her head. “Oh no. We’re camping on Te Pukatea and the waves are huge over there. We hiked over here to see what the prognosis was.”

Tom shook his head in frustration. “Well, it says its fine, but the waves seemed huge when we went out.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, we’ve been here for a couple days and that seems to be the norm. The weather prognosis is always wonderful. Even when it isn’t.” She looked over to the far shoreline and waved at someone. A man began heading our way.

“My husband,” she explained. “He’s on the lookout for a water taxi.”

He showed up next to us. “No luck yet,” he said after introducing himself to us.

Tom nodded. “We’re thinking a water taxi is our best bet, too, but we don’t know how long.”

So we sat. Shielding ourselves from the wind and sand flies and sharing stories of our lives. We learned they were from the North Island and tried to travel to the south island once a year to partake in all the outdoor activities down south. They assured us they had kayaked over a dozen times and had never encountered weather they didn’t feel comfortable going out in…until now.

This made Tom and I feel better, but once the water taxi finally arrived, we were still worried we were on the verge of being judged and having eyes rolled out “us stupid tourists” for being too scared for battling the waves via kayak.

The couple we had been talking to had arranged with their rental company to pick up their kayak tomorrow (the bay was even too rocky for boats). They’d headed back to the bay to get their camping and personal belongings so it was just Tom and me pleading to be saved at that very moment.

The young guy with surprisingly surfer blonde hair was very obligingly. He assured us no one should be out in this weather. Feeling guilty, both Tom and I – after heaving all our belongings out of the kayak and onto the boat (the kayak has many compartments to hold tents, food, extra clothing, and many other items) – went to grab the kayak to heave onto the back of the boat.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he assured us. “I have it. Take a seat.”

“Are you sure?” we asked, slightly concerned. The kayak was heavy.

But then, with seemingly no hardship, he hoisted the kayak from the ocean shore up onto the end of the boat. He deftly secured the kayak with bungee cords then took the helm of the boat, assuring us again sweetly that no one should be kayaking in these conditions.

Kayak transporting on the back of the water taxi.

“To be fair, they’re making like 70 New Zealand bucks off of us and this kayak, so why not assure us we’re doing the right thing?” I hissed at Tom. We knew from our kayak rental company that transporting the kayak was more than transporting people.

Just then, the boat hit big wave ,they type that instead of giving your stomach a rollercoaster type roll instead makes it feel like it just ran into a brick wall.

“Ok, maybe he’s telling the truth and not just being nice,” I muttered.

We hit a few more big bumps that were a less harsh. I giggled as my stomach jumped. “It’s like a roller coaster out here,” I whispered to Tom. Green hills and standalone, small islands several feet from the water’s edge stand out from the shoreline. I breathed in sharply as it was all the places we could have explored more in depth had we still been on our kayak.

Had we made a big wimpy mistake?

Our boat driver pointed out that we saw no kayaks out except for one lone kayak going north. “Going north is much easier than going south,” he assured us.

While traveling through the water, he continued to try to get ahold of our kayak rental company. This was standard for water taxis who picked up people with kayak since, you know, it was people with a kayak that belonged to the company in question.

“I heard back from them,” he called back to us from his helm at the steering wheel. “They won’t cover this.”

He looked so apologetic and sad by this news, we both swung into reassurance mode. “That’s fiiiine!”

“We’re just happy to be warm and safe.”

“We never expected it to be covered.”

“Don’t worry,” we said in unison and smiled placidly at him.

He still looked uncertain as he shot us another look over his shoulder. “I just think they should cover it if you can’t get back cause of weather,” he said earnestly.

As happens to me more and more as I get older (annoyingly) I felt an endearing tug at my heart that there is some young’un out there who wants to do good in the world, and told myself to chill. He could just be being nice.

Though, as I’ve discovered in New Zealand, that’s not normally the case. People really are. Just. that. Nice.

So nice!

To us Americans, it seemed almost fake. But it wasn’t.

Our nice taxi driver navigating us through the rocky seas.

We arrived and our driver transferred us to a trailer to take us the rest of the short way to the kayak rental building. We thanked him again profusely for saving us (or not saving us…who knows…).  The kayak rental place even took pity on us and docked $20 from what we owed them for the taxi ride.

The good thing that came of all our possibly wimpy kayak saving on the high seas?

We got to have time to taste Monkey Wizard Brewery and arrived in Marlborough County with enough time to grab dinner there before spending our following day wine tasting.

Thanks for reading Kayaking in Abel Tasman: Being Rescued by a Taxi Boat

Think the Office Will Fall Apart in Your Absence? A Lunch Break Will Make You Think Again

Is this your typical lunch break at work? Get away from your desk! And then take a vacation…

Working around the clock is common these days. Late hours, emails from bed at 10 p.m., and lunch at desks is often normal. This working around the clock mentality has become so common in America that many workers feel their jobs will be in jeopardy if they take a vacation. The reasoning being: “I work all day long every day, how will the job ever survive without me?”

Newsflash: It will. Or the company you work for is doing something very, very wrong. And if you’re at all valued at the company (which I’m sure you are) then they’re not going to replace you if you leave for a week. Think how often you’ve said “I can’t believe it’s already Friday, this week has flown by.” Now picture your co-workers and boss saying that the week you’re lying on a tropical beach somewhere. They’ll probably barely notice you’re gone. Still, that’s easier to say than put into practice.

Maybe you’ve even convinced yourself you don’t need vacation. I’ll tell you straight: that kind of thinking is crazy.

So how can you start weaning yourself from the office and assuring yourself that all will be fine if you take a vacation?

Start taking lunch breaks.

If you don’t take already take a lunch most days – and running to the nearest fast food restaurant to get something to bring back to your desk to eat doesn’t count – you’re missing out on a prime point of rejuvenation each day that will make you a better employee.

Starting to eat lunch away from the office each day will also mentally begin to prepare you that the whole office won’t fall apart in the half-hour or hour you’re gone. (If hour lunches are allowed at your place of employment – take the whole hour whenever you can!) You’ll also start to realize that you’re more rejuvenated once you get back to the office and a more productive worker the rest of the day. Instead of hitting that sluggish point around 3pm, a lunch break will help your mind get fired up again to make it through the rest of the working day.

Here are likely excuses you’re thinking:

No one at my office takes lunch: Really, not one person? If you really think you will stick out like a sore thumb as the only one taking lunch breaks, start out with once a week and work your way up. Soon, no one will pay attention to you leaving for lunch.

My boss doesn’t allow it: Are you sure about that? Most bosses understand you need to eat and in this litigation-happy world my guess is most bosses would be scared to ban their employees from taking a proper lunch break. And if you’re an hourly employee, it’s illegal in many states to work while eating your lunch.

I don’t have time: This is an easy one – make time! If you truly don’t have time, analyze your day and figure out where you could streamline projects to find 30 minutes for lunch.

If I don’t take lunch, I can leave earlier: In my experience, employees always say this, but it never happens. You’ll either feel guilty leaving earlier than usual, even if you put in the time; or, if you’re used to working late, something inevitably will come up to prevent you from leaving early anyway. It’s one of the side effects of being a workaholic – you can always find something to work on.

I have meetings all day: Block out time on your calendar for lunch so coworkers don’t schedule meetings during that time.

Get Away From Your Work Space for Lunch

When taking a lunch, head outside the building into a courtyard or to a nearby coffee shop. Drive to work? Taking lunch in your car can be a good place to escape. You can turn on heat in the winter and air conditioning in the summer, lean the seat back, take out a good book or magazine, and escape work issues for 30-60 minutes. If you have no other option besides the employee break room, use it, just try not to get caught up in work conversations with other employees taking a break. Wearing headphones can help stem off conversations, even if you don’t have them on.

Where are your favorite places to go for lunch to get away from work for a little while?

Thanks for reading Having Trouble Justifying a Vacation? Start Taking a Lunch Break

A Couple Conflict Over the Inca Trail – Should We Axe It?

Will I regret it if I go to Machu Picchu and don’t hike the Inca Trail? (Photo Credit: Ian Armstrong via Flickr)

If you’ve been following me on this blog or on Twitter for awhile, you may have noticed I have an obsession with going to Machu Picchu. It’s been at the top of my bucket list for years. When people ask when I’m having children I joke that it won’t be until I make it to Machu Picchu. Yet I can’t seem to get a trip there to actually happen.

Part of the problem – and it’s a good problem to have – is that I can’t ditch my husband to go. It’s a trip we’ve talked about doing together since we first started dating (though I’d like to point out that I’m the one who introduced the Machu Picchu obsession to our relationship). Since then we keep saying we’re going to go, but things keep coming up for it not to happen.

We originally were planning on going to Machu Picchu two Christmases ago until we looked into it more and realized December is not a good time to hike the Inca Trail. So we went to Thailand instead. Which was awesome.

Next, we talked about going the following Thanksgiving. We were so close to booking that I even wrote a blog post about it. Then Tom realized he had to be available for a school project that week. (Darn smarty-pants MBA-getting husband. Though I am very proud of him.) So we decided to go somewhere over Christmas instead and decided on New Zealand. It was also awesome.

But I need to see the awesomeness of Machu Picchu! Tom then figured we could go as soon as he finishes school this June as a celebratory vacation. He figured whoever his employer was would be fine with (he was still looking for a job at the time. He has since landed one. Again, so proud of smarty-pants husband). Alas, we went to start planning and…all the Inca Trail permits were already sold out! This is several months ago, people. We thought we were planning with well enough time. Apparently not.

Are you seeing a trend here? The Inca Trail. I’m ready just to axe it from the trip.

Too many conditions need to be aligned for us to hike it, so it seems. And to be perfectly honest, despite the many hundreds of glowing reviews out there for hiking the trail, I think it sounds quite awful. Is the scenery really that much more amazing than in the rest of Peru that it’s worth five days of strenuous hiking, sleeping in the cold, crappy toilets, and altitude sickness? I’m not convinced.

So therefore I’m trying to convince Tom that we can stay the night in Agua Calientes (the closest town to Machu Picchu) and still get up to Machu Picchu before the tourist buses all arrive, and just skip the whole hiking the Inca Trail thing. He’s steadfast in that we will regret it if we go all the way down there and don’t hike the trail. He’s now promising we’ll go in the fall.

To which I say: But what if….(fill in the blank of some reason we can’t go and which is why I think we should go sooner than later and skip the Inca Trail.)

What do you all think? Is the Inca Trail an absolute must? Is it really as spectacular and memorable as people say? Or are they just so glad they survived that in retrospect it become this incredible journey?

And will I ever make it to Machu Picchu?? (Maybe this is all just a sign that I shouldn’t have children yet…)

Thanks for reading Is the Inca Trail Really Worth It?

Not only is it starting to feel like summer in southern California where I live, it seems other areas are finally starting to embrace Spring. Minnesota got one of it’s latest snowfalls in awhile…

Minnesota earlier this week.

…but the snow is melting and it seems spring is finally arriving to the state and the same story is going with other areas, too. You know what that means? Summer is almost here! And summer is the favorite travel time for many destinations. Here’s some articles on some of my favorites, plus some of my other favorite travel articles from the past week.

Steph of 20-Something Travel writes about a lesser known area of the Colosseum: the underground.

Mrs. O Around the World lists out her dream trips for 2013 that includes some of my faves plus  a dream of mine (hello Maldives!).

My latest blog post for Room 77 talks about how to balance working with travel (sometimes it can’t be helped) when visiting your favorite places around the world.

A favorite destination doesn’t always need to be necessarily on land, aka Royal Caribbean’s Oasis of the Seas and Allure of the Seas – the World’s Largest Cruise Ships. Therefore, I was excited to see news of their next innovative cruise ship, the Quantum of the Seas.

And while we’re on the subject of Royal Caribbean, they’re having a pretty awesome deal right now if you have kiddos (or friends you don’t mind sharing close quarters with). The 3rd and 4th guest in a stateroom travels for just $99 on select Caribbean and Europe travels.  This deal ends May 10th.

Thanks for reading One Day Around the Web: 4/27/13

Walking Around the Queenstown Gardens in New Zealand: Even Pretty on a Rainy Day

Not only does Queenstown, New Zealand already have a gorgeous harbor, 5-star restaurants, an extremely walkable waterfront and downtown area, and majestic mountains framing the massive lake the town bends around, but it also is home to one of New Zealand’s prettiest gardens. The Queenstown Gardens are a lovely showcase for the various floral and fauna that makes New Zealand the lushly green country it is. Add in botanical components to the garden and you’ve got a peaceful park to walk through with flower and trees you can observe and learn the names of. With picnic tables, bridges over streams, water fountains, and gazebos, the Queenstown Gardens are elevated into a lovely park that is ideal for walking through and not just observing.

Queenstown Gardens: Waterspouts and flower beds

Though the day I visited the gardens was gray and drizzling rain, it didn’t detract from the beauty and it was actually quite nice to walk around in since the gardens were mostly empty due to the weather (and I had on a raincoat).

A Blue Atlas Cedar tree in the Queenstown Gardens.

As is the case with most places in New Zealand, an area wouldn’t be complete without a hike through the forest and these botanical gardens don’t disappoint. At the eastern end of the gardens, there is a small hiking trail that leads down a hill through some tall trees and brush, which leads to the water’s edge at the bottom.

Trail leading down from the Queenstown Gardens to the water’s edge.

Rainy, but pleasant view, from the beach next to the Queenstown Gardens.

The Queenstown Gardens are easily found as they’re just a short walk east of Queenstown’s harbor. Allot an hour or so to walk around the gardens and trails and if you’re not stuck in drizzly rain like I was, sit down on a bench for awhile, and just soak in all the beauty that is New Zealand, whether it’s rugged forests or perfectly manicured gardens.

Thanks for reading Photo Tour Friday: Queenstown Gardens

 The Little Cray Pot Restaurant Makes a Big Impact

You have to go out of your way to get to the Cray Pot restaurant near Haast, New Zealand. It’s about 30 minutes off the main highway to Haast and once you reach there, you’re basically at a dead end and will just have to turn around once you eat.

The view from the outdoor tables at The Cray Pot.

Seriously, this is the town…er, or lack of town.

The town’s main street. It pretty much just consists of these buildings and The Cray Pot.

And you may see a tractor or two.

Then, there’s the restaurant.

Another view of the “main street” with The Cray Pot to the left.

The kitchen entrance and, farther down, the main entrance to The Cray Pot.

The Cray Pot is delightfully small. It’s in an old trailer that has been converted into a narrow restaurant with the open kitchen on one end.

Doesn’t take many people to fill up The Cray Pot.

Space is at a premium in The Cray Pot so supplies were stored under the chairs of the tables. It gave it a very homey, lived in feeling.

The menu only consists of a few seafood items which are all fresh and locally caught. To my disappointment, crayfish was not on the menu, so Tom and I opted for the fish and chips, which we had heard through the grapevine was very good.

The blackboard menu.

While waiting for our meal to arrive (which took only about ten minutes) I surveyed the wall, which covered in pictures of old fishing boats battling monstrous waves in the sea.

A couple of the fishing ship posters hung high on the walls.

It was a vast difference from the current day, which was sunny and calm with nary a ripple in sight on the ocean. Then the phone of the Cray Pot rang and reminded me it’s not always like this.

“Ah, yes, we just reopened today,” the owner said in her thick kiwi accent. “The road was closed all week. No one could get through.”

She paused.

“I’m doing alright on products, but some more milk would be great.” Another pause. “Yes, just drop it off by my door.”

I marveled at a restaurant that was so out of the way, it was dependent on one lone road – and at the whim of nature – to get both people and ingredients into its doors.

Luckily for Tom and me, the rain had subsided just in time for our day driving by the Cray Pot and we were about to enjoy the fruits of its reputation.

The fish and chips were delivered in wire baskets. The fish tasted fresh and was the perfect blend of flakiness and crispness. The flavor was a bit mild, but dressed up with tartar sauce and vinegar made it delectable. Putting some salt on my fries with one half of the adorable kiwi salt and pepper shakers was also a nice touch.

The Cray Pot’s freshly caught fish and chips.

The darling little kiwi salt and pepper shakers.

Was it the best fish and chips I’ve ever had? No…but it was one of the best. And was definitely the best setting I’ve ever had fish and chips in.

Indoor view of the ocean from our table.

A local fishing boat out to sea.

A panoramic view of the seaside spot The Cray Pot is on.

It’s wise to call the Cray Pot before you go to make sure it’s open, due to things like weather and other reasons a remote restaurant may be randomly closed. Their number is: 03-750-0035. There is also a walking trail nearby that takes you down to a rocky part of the area, where penguins sometimes hang out.

Thanks for reading The Cray Pot Restaurant in New Zealand

New Zealand’s Millions of Years Old Pancake Rocks

The Ancient and Mysterious Pancake Rocks of New Zealand.

In the town of Punakaiki on New Zealand’s South Island’s west coast lies the Pancake Rocks. Someone must have been hungry when deciding to name these rocks, because instead of calling them discs, or Frisbees, or simply stacked rocks, they got the moniker of Pancake Rocks due to the flat round stones making many stacks of “pancakes” around the area. The name is fitting…

A little stack of pancakes…

…and a big stack of pancakes.

More stacks of Pancake Rocks.

History of the Pancake Rocks

The Pancake Rocks have a bit of mysterious allure to them as well. While scientists and geologists have figured out they are limestone created 35 million years ago under the sea by fragments of marine organisms thanks to a massive amount of mud and sand pushing down into the seabed with so much force the organisms turned into limestone. One thing geologists can’t quite comprehend, though, is why the limestone decided to stack up on top of each other in pancake-like layers. It’s generally believed stylobedding, which is the result of mudstone being compacted between layers of limestone due to the pressure of the sea; thanks to the mudstone being eroded faster than limestone over the years, the Pancake Rocks get their stacked effect. Geologists still aren’t sure why some minerals escaped the limestone to create the mudstone during the creation process.

These stacked rocks used to be marine organisms underneath the sea.

Despite being created millions and millions of of years ago, it wasn’t until 100,000 years ago that the Pancake Rocks emerged from the water’s depths, due to an uplifting process in the earth that began five million years prior that also pushed up the Southern Alps.

Thanks to the uplifting process, visitors now have gorgeous views like this from the Pancake Rocks.

The Pancake Rocks Blowholes

Amidst the many piles of rocks making up the Pancake Rocks park are blowholes. Show up to Pancake Rocks on the right day time and time when conditions are right, usually around the time the tide is coming in, and you’ll see water swishing up through the flat rocks and making a large whale spout type spray above the gleaming rocks.

One of the blowhole areas.

The Pancake Rocks park is easy to get to as it’s just off the road with plenty of parking across from the entrance. A culinary name for a popular park needs food to go with it and there’s a restaurant and café across the road from the entrance to Pancake Rocks. If it’s too overpriced and touristy for you, head north to Westport or south to Greymouth for some eating establishments away from the hordes.  Punakaiki also is home to hiking trails and is a great jumping off point for kayaking in the sea.

Birds love the Pancake Rocks, too.

Thanks for reading Pancake Rocks in Punakaiki, New Zealand