Planter’s punch flows as naturally as the ocean water in St. Barth. There is not a bar or restaurant you go into that doesn’t have it on its menu.

Like most Caribbean islands, rum is king in St. Barth, and it is at the heart of this cocktail. While the recipe may vary slightly around the island, the foundation is always the same – high quality rum and fresh fruit juices indigenous to the area.

La Cantina, a popular spot for small plates and drinks, creates a well balanced and fresh tasting planter’s punch by combining rum, passion fruit, guava, pineapple, mango and grenadine together. The drink is the essence of the island neatly distilled into a glass, and its pink hue is reminiscent of the sun setting over the island.

Planter’s punch is as core to St. Barth as the water and the palm trees, and for that it is an absolute staple in any trip to this island oasis.

Colombier Beach

Accessible only by foot and boat, Colombier is an isolated beach that promises stunning views. The path to the beach was a 30-minute treacherous hike through heavily wooded areas where stones and logs make up the rather steep steps. My old Reef flip-flops that no longer bore tread were no match for this rugged path. As a result, I spent most of the trip down on my butt – missing some of those alleged captivating views. When my feet finally hit the sand, I couldn’t help but notice that Colombier was decidedly calmer than other beaches with very few other people on the beach. (Apparently, everyone else got the memo about that hellacious path and stayed away.) As beautiful as it was I am not sure I would go back, but if you like steep routes where you could feasibly fall off a mountain, by all means check it out. Otherwise, I would rent a boat or sit this one out.

Gouverneur Beach

There is a good reason Gouverneur is one of the most highly regarded beaches on the island. Still undeveloped, it is the peek of perfection with powdery white sand and deep aqua blue water. Popular for its good looks and secluded location, it has also become a favorite among sunbathers who are looking to avoid the suntan lines (if you know what I mean). It is the quintessential Caribbean beach and its inexplicable natural beauty was the perfect muse for an amateur photographer looking to snap a few choice photos for this here site. The quietness draws you into a retrospective state, and it is easy to find peace just laying there reading and listening to music.

St. Jean Beach

Perhaps I have just listened to too much Jimmy Buffett, but when I think of paradise I imagine basking in the sun and wasting away with a fruity island drink from some little beach shack. St. Jean Beach offers all of that and so much more. Easily the most well rounded beach, St. Jean has an infectious energy and a slew of activities that make it anything but dull. For me, nothing was better than hanging out at the bar at Tom’s Beach sipping on piña coladas while watching the planes come in and out of Saint Barthélemy Airport. As tempting as it is to just sit there, St. Jean is an excellent beach for exploration and the paddleboards for rent are a great way to get around. Just be sure to avoid the coral that is plentiful around this area – unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way.

So, when I began planning a trip to Europe, the idea of using Airbnb to stay in someone else’s home did not seem that strange of a concept. But what I have realized is that while the sharing economy might be the social norm in big cities like San Francisco, it is not as pervasive in the suburbs or rural areas where these services have yet to emerge. As such, there is still a healthy dose of skepticism.

I am hear to tell you why I love Airbnb and think you should push aside any reservations and give it a try.

Democratizing travel

Airbnb’s collaborative consumption model has effectively democratized travel for the masses. With lodging at any price point, it is easy to find suitable housing no matter what your budget. When I set out to plan a solo trip across Europe, I knew that I would have to be smart about where I spent my funds. After all, the romance and history of places like Rome doesn’t come cheap. Typically, a mid-range hotel that is centrally located in the city will cost you between $150-300 a night. With Airbnb I was able to stay in a highly desirable area between Piazza Navona and Campo D’Fiori for just $50 a night. This was a huge cost savings that I was able to apply to additional activities and enjoying nicer meals out.

You get a more authentic experience

Think about where the most popular hotels are in your city. Are those the areas that you would recommend people visit? Personally, I pity the person who visits San Francisco and only manages to see Fisherman’s Wharf, but it is a scenario I hear often. Hotels tend to be relegated to tourists areas, and visitors’ movements don’t usually extend very far from where they are staying. With Airbnb you are staying where people live, so you are going to the places where they shop and the restaurants where they dine. Also, staying and/or renting from locals essentially gives you a personal concierge. My host in Rome knew I was a foodie, so she had lots of recommendations and maps lined up for me upon my arrival.

Self-regulating community

A lot of the apprehension around Airbnb that I hear is whether it is safe. Part of the reason Airbnb works so well is that the community is self-monitoring – meaning that guests can rate hosts and vice versa. Being a productive member of the community means providing constructive feedback – something that most take very seriously. As a result, I was able to get opinions from my peers about the hosts; their homes; and what the surrounding area was like. After narrowing the field, I was able to exchange messages with the prospective hosts to determine whether it would be a good fit for both parties. For me, the priorities were having a central location and a host with flexible house rules – something I was able to determine well before I got on the plane.

Final thoughts

All of my Airbnb experiences have surpassed my expectations. In each location I paid well below market price for lodging, and I certainly wasn’t roughing it. In search of old world charm, I stayed in buildings steeped in history that offered far more than the oft-sterile hotel room. I wasn’t sure what I would think about renting a room and staying with people, so I primarily rented entire apartments and only stayed with hosts in one location. Considering how little time I actually spent at the apartment, I would opt to rent more rooms next time. I found the experience of staying with locals to be rewarding, and I love knowing that I have this connection to these people half across the world. (We even exchanged Christmas cards this past year.)

I believe that travel is important for shaping our worldly views. It adds depth and tolerance to our character. My experience traveling across Europe was richer because of the people who welcomed me into their homes. And such a trip was possible because of the barriers that services like Airbnb help eliminate.

My hometown of Florida is hardly the Deep South, but growing up with a grandmother that was bred in Alabama meant that I got a grasp on the traditions and more importantly the food. So, to say I am a harsh critic when it comes to Southern cuisine would be an understatement.

As good as the food in San Francisco is, and it is truly something special, I often have gripes about the nouveau Southern dishes that turn up in restaurants in town.  The biggest offender is fried chicken. One bite and I usually want to scream, “you are doing it wrong!”

But every once and awhile I am pleasantly surprised and such was the case when I recently visited Foundation Café, a new breakfast and lunch spot that has cropped up in the Financial District. With its white washed walls, community style seating and easy scrolling across the chalkboard – the café felt comfortable and inviting.

A quick glance at the menu, and I knew that despite any reservations, I really had to try the fried chicken sandwich. All it took was one bite, and I was sold and could hardly put it down.

The sandwich started with a thin piece of chicken that was dressed with a flavorful coat of breading that managed to achieve being crispy and moist all at the same time. Stacked on a fresh ciabatta roll the sandwich was adorned with grilled scallion aioli, smoked bacon and Swiss cheese. The flavor profile just worked and the pickled veggies that came as a side were just a bonus.

Foundation Café found a way to embrace tradition while putting its own spin on a beloved dish. And while it might mean signing up for a few more Zumba classes, I eagerly await my next fried chicken sandwich.

Foundation Café: 335 Kearny St. San Francisco, CA 94108 

Sans the required reservations, I showed up in front of Tempo Doeloe at 9 p.m. one Thursday. I rang the doorbell and anxiously waited to see if I would be beckoned inside. A short time later the owner greeted me. After the obligatory explanation about how I failed to make a reservation but was really hoping to snag a table (or closet), he nodded and escorted me to the bar where other anxious diners were waiting.

At the bar I was greeted by a lovely young lady around my age who turned out to be the owner’s daughter. She had a kind eyes and a welcoming smile and we instantly clicked. While bar seating is often categorized as second place, I love it. The entire evening I felt like a VIP and even got to sample interesting things like Pisang Ambon, a Dutch-made banana liqueur.

When it came time to order I was met by a round, jovial woman, who I immediately felt warmth in her presence. As is often the case, I turned the ordering process to my server. I told her I would like to do the tasting menu and that she could pick all of the dishes. My only stipulation was that the none of them be so hot as to sear off my taste buds.

For the next several hours I enjoyed course after course — for a total of six dishes. The flavors and spiciness awakened and challenged my taste buds. There was sweetness from coconut, freshness from citrus and heat from chillies. I enjoyed dishes that ranged from chicken soup to the classic rijsttafel (Dutch for rice table.) By the final dish – a mango dessert – I felt like I was busting at the seams.

I ended up staying well after the restaurant had closed. The chef even came out to see how I liked my food and informed me that since I had survived I had graduated to the next level of spiciness. Before I left the bartender told me she would love it if I would return to Amsterdam and come back to Tempo Doeloe.

And I will definitely be back, but as to whether I will try spicier dishes…well that is another story.

Tempo Doeloe: Utrechtsestraat 75, 1017 VJ Amsterdam

At The Cupcakery, a Las Vegas-based chain, there are a lot of unique flavors to choose from, in addition to the more traditional varieties. Since I tend to stick with red velvet or cookies and cream, I decided to get something a little more festive and picked the sparkly cupcake with an liquor element, since that felt more Vegas-esque.

The Kir Royale is a raspberry cupcake with champagne frosting, and I was expecting a more refined duo, since champagne isn’t especially sweet – at least not the good champagne. Some of the other interesting flavors included the “good morning” cupcake, vanilla with cinnamon sugar frosting or lemon berry with a bright blue frosting.

The raspberry cake was really delicious – fruit flavors can be kind of iffy, but this one wasn’t artificial tasting, it was moist and the perfect level of sweetness. The frosting however was a little different, well actually the opposite of the goodness of the cake – too sweet and artificial. A little was fine, but a little went a long way. I ended up removing most of the pretty, sparkly frosting, and just enjoyed the cake by itself.

Overall – I would pass on this particular combo again, opting for a more conventional frosting, but would recommend The Cupcakery if you need a sugar rush on the strip!

We had thought about trying this many times before, but as we often book hotels as part of a package or through a discount site, we weren’t sure if the agent would just laugh at us since even with an extra $20, we were still getting a huge deal. But after having read a lot about trying this on all corners of the Internet and even real books, it seemed worth trying, and since Vegas is all about gambling, it was a good way to kick off the trip.

One of the tips that we had read is to try to get a feel for the different agents currently working, if there are multiple like there usually is in Vegas, to try to size them up to see who seems experienced and therefore more comfortable and used to providing upgrades. We lucked out in that we didn’t have to let someone go in front of us and pretend to be looking for something in our purse or check our phone in order to try to get helped by the desired person, as we had a pretty experienced looking guy when it was our turn at the Aria. Per protocol, he asked for an ID and credit card, so we slipped the $20 bill in between the two, smiled big and passed it over. He placed the $20 on the counter and we tried to be as pleasant and chatty as possible as he said he would see what he could do for us in terms of a room. Since the $20 sat on the counter while he typed in the info from our ID and credit card we weren’t really sure if that was some kind of denial, so there were some nerves, but at the end he said, “since you have been so nice, I was able to upgrade you to a deluxe view room.”

Those were the words we were waiting to hear! While views can cost a pretty penny, we were able to get an upgrade that provided us with a view of the CityCenter property, along with the Monte Carlo pool and MGM Grand.

Maybe next time we’ll try a $50 and see if we can get a suite, although that would really start cutting into our gambling money. Have you used the trick? Let us know if it worked for you!

Yes, nighttime pictures would have been better, but by the evening hours, photo skills had diminished slightly.

Today, Instant Grativacation turns two.

Seeing how the site has evolved over the last couple of years, it is hard to believe it all began with a little trip to Vegas back in April 2009. (Check out our awesome excursion.) At that point, Elisabeth and I were new friends – having only hung out alone once for dinner at Chevy’s followed by a viewing of Confessions of a Shopaholic. So, our respective families were a little surprised when we up and took off to Vegas together one Friday after work.

After a weekend away where we were around each other non-stop, sharing the same $2 purple sale eye shadow from Walgreens, our friendship was effectively cemented. While our Vegas vacation only lasted through the weekend, we knew we were capable of many more adventures. Thus, the idea for Instant Grativacation was born.

It would take us some time to get our act together (too many planning sessions with cocktails), but exactly two years from our Vegas trip we issued our inaugural post. Since then we have managed to get cast as extras in a movie, film scenes with Suze Orman and Bravo’s Start-Ups. We have met Tori Spelling and crashed a wedding expo. There have been mishaps too – like the very unfortunate gallery event and the time we were involved in a hit-and-run, wrecking a brand new Volvo.

Instant Grativacation is our own little corner of the Internet where we get to share our random musings and whacky outings. Thank you to all who have partaken in these moments – whether it is in our day-to-day lives or by popping in for a read. We figured we have a few more years left where we can get away with our shenanigans, so here is to many more!

Hours before the streets told a far different story.

Often called the Venice of the North, there is a deep beauty that underpins Amsterdam that is often overshadowed by the illustrious activities that have made he city one of the most visited in the world. Admittedly, before visiting Amsterdam I had judged it as a place that people went to connect with their daemons and feed their desires.

But I was wrong. There is a rich culture that can be found in every nook and corner of the city. Even the notorious De Wallen, one of the best-known red light districts, is beautiful in its own right. It is here where Oude Kerk, the oldest building in Amsterdam, can be found amongst many other architectural gems.

It is the dark underbelly that steals your glances though. As dusk falls a red glow cloaks the district – very apropos. The ladies of the night (the ones I imagine Sting is singing about in Roxanne) take to their windows like living mannequins. The women preen and beckon potential clients their way – and every now and then one welcomes a customer inside.

De Wallen attracts all kinds – including many bystanders who are just anxious to see what it is all about. Curiosity gets the best of most people and inevitably you will end up there. Go, but don’t linger too long. There is so much to see, and the Red Light District is just one frame of a place that has so much more to offer.

Visit one of the many brown cafes, which are the Dutch equivalent of a pub where you can grab a beer and bar snacks. I visited Café ‘t Smalle in the Jordaan District. Despite being a very popular spot, I managed to snag a table next to the canal. Even though it was quite cold the day I visited, I sat there for hours sipping on a Heineken Extra Cold – watching canal cruises filled with tourists float by.

Sample the foods indigenous to the area. Amsterdam might not receive the culinary praise that neighboring countries do, but it does offer its own unique point-of-view. Having inadvertently missed Indonesian cuisine on my first trip, it was a top priority. So, I found myself at Tempo Doeloe (more later), where the food was spicy and the hospitality warmhearted. But one of my all-time favorite discoveries is bitterballen, a Dutch fried snack, that is commonplace in most bars.

Be highbrow and take in a museum. There are the homes of important historical figures like Rembrandt and Anne Frank, who each in their own very different ways have left an indelible mark on the city. There are also a number of art museums like the Dutch national museum, Rijksmuseum, and the one dedicated to the work of Van Gough.

As I reached Centraal Station ready to board my train to Amsterdam Airport Schiphol, I noticed that the street cleaners were already hard at work piecing the city back together. The trash that lay on the ground was a temporary mark on an otherwise beautiful and oft-misunderstood city.

The Wednesday before SXSW convened, 6^th Street in downtown Austin was eerily quiet. It was the proverbial calm before the storm. The streets were nearly empty – void of the raucous behavior that normally inhabits this popular party corridor.

The only noise that seemed to be was what drifted from the nearby bars and clubs. The rhythmic bass of a rap song from one bar and the stomping and yee-hawing from ladies dressed in tank tops, ripped jean shorts and cowboy boots dancing on the bar at the Coyote Ugly.

A mere 48 hours later it would be a completely different scene. The streets would fill with the tech elite and the smell of smoke, cheap pizza and cold beer would linger in the air. Billed as a professional event, SXSW Interactive seemed more like the trailer of Spring Breakers but with Twitter counts.

The next five days would be filled with parties hosted by companies I had never heard of in the company of new and old friends. The alcohol flowed freely (figuratively and literally). This was not always the case with food, and if I had learned anything at my 29 years of age I knew this could be a bad combination.

At then end of the night when the parties began to wind down people would gather at the historic Driskill Hotel. Despite there being any number of bars open, we would all stand in line like chumps so that we could treat ourselves to poor service and overpriced cocktails.

As one evening concluded at the Driskill and my tired feet walked me through the streets of Austin, I couldn’t help but think that I was just a few years past my prime for SXSW. Now I had never heard of the bands playing, and they were young enough to be my children (well if I was one of those MTV teen moms).

There was also a time I would have loved to party hop and stay out to 4 a.m. Now I knew that trying to go out every night until the sun came up would only leave me with regret. My younger 22-year-old self would have laughed at me, but I was too tired to care.